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Message-ID: <38850asstr$1035076202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Homer Vargas <vargas111@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Examination of a NAG-Repost (MC, Mdom, humor, preg)
Date: Sat, 19 Oct 2002 21:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Examination of a NAG
Homer Vargas
Vargas111@hooyahooya.com
MC, Mdom, 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: The head of a feminist group visits The
Clinic of "The Examination."
First Posted 12/0/98
Last Edited 10/20/02

Although this story is self contained, it alludes to
three earlier stories, "The Examination," "On Further
Examination" and "Wonder Woman's Examination."  I like
to believe you will enjoy this more if you have read
the others first.


Sometimes Kate Harridan thought *Milly* was the cause
of her headaches, the way her administrative assistant
went on and on, urging her boss to see a doctor about
the trivial ailment.  Milly ought to have been working
for Kate long enough to know by now she ALWAYS got
headaches when she was under stress.  And Lord knows
Kate had cause enough for stress right now.  Just
moving the headquarters of NAG (National Association
of Grrls), the organization Kate had founded, from San
Francisco to Washington was stressful enough.  Then
the disasters began.

The movers had hardly finished putting all the ficuses
in place when the Finger scandal broke.  Carol Finger,
yes, Senator Finger herself, was caught in a sexual
liaison with one of her hunky interns.  "Sexual
liaison?"  Hell, the Senator was found getting her
lights fucked out daily if not more often.  Truth be
told, Carol Finger had never been a credit to the
World's Greatest Deliberative Body, but she was on
NAG's Board of Directors and the organization had to
back her up.  Always ready with a faux feminist
rationale for her erratic positions on issues, Carol
compiled an amazingly inconsistent and self-serving
voting record.

The disclosure that Senator Finger was having sex with
a boy half her age was bad enough.  Worse was the
grainy photo obtained by the other party showing the
plump middle-aged woman draped over an arm chair, red
skirt up around her waist and red panties down around
her ankles, being skewered to her obvious delight by a
muscular blond.  The President's picture above the
desk smiled down in apparent approbation, or was it
envy?

The Senator made everything ten time worse, however,
at the news conference she gave to announce her
resignation.  Kate had read the transcript and seen
the video enough times to have the gut-wrenching
performance memorized.  The rhetorical low points were
burned into her memory.

"Hell, yes, I'm having an affair with this gorgeous
boy and I sure don't intend to apologize for it," the
Senator declared.  "That's the difference between men
and real Grrls.  I do NOT beg forgiveness from my
husband and family and this has definitely NOT made my
marriage to the wimp stronger.  In fact, I'm going to
divorce his ass!  And for all you school marms of
whatever profession that 'can't understand' how a
woman of 'my age' can take up with a twenty year old
stud-muffin, let me spell it out for you.  S-E-X. 
Clear enough?  Let me be more specific.  T-E-N 
I-N-C-H  C-O-C-K.  Need more?  How about, T-W-O. 
I-N-C-H.  D-I-A-M-E-T-E-R?  I've got the boy putting
the wood to me like I haven't gotten it in years and
damned if I'm going to stop him."

"Take it from me, Grrls, get your self one of these,"
she proclaimed lustily, reaching over to fondle the
erection of the handsome young man standing beside
her, smiling even though he was a too little dim to
fully comprehend what was going on.  "Stop grinding up
the contraband Viagra in the old fart's oatmeal at
night.  It's not doing either of you any good," she
admonished.  "Loose some lard ladies, get your titties
a silicone upgrade if they need it, buy yourself a few
hot little minis, and wiggle your ass down to the
nearest sports bar.  I guarantee within a week you'll
be getting your pussy plowed or I'll let you have
Arnold for a night.  If you are lucky, you might even
find a plowman who can remember which morning to take
out the garbage, but don't hold your breath. 
Remember, Grrls, there's just one thing a man's good
for.  If he's well equipped between his legs, don't
worry about what he's got between his ears."

"There is, however, one particularly disgusting canard
out there, that I must most emphatically deny.  I did
NOT let my fuck toy 'get me pregnant.'  I got this,"
Carol paused for effect and lifted her obscenely short
skirt to display a telling bulge in her panties,
"Because *I* threw away my pills.  *I* decided on the
best dates.  *I* locked him in the hotel room and kept
the pillows under my ass.  *I* made sure he gave me
frequent re-fills of jizz all weekend long.  I'm
having this baby because *I* guided his big cock into
me and made him shove it farther down into my fertile
womb than he ever had before.  Arnold, the dear, just
supplied the semen, one thing he can do very well." 
Arnold grinned, suspecting the pretty older woman had
said something nie about him again.

Ex-Senator Finger had gone on for twenty minutes in
that vein.  For NAG it had been a public relations
catastrophe ending with the horrific finale. 
"Therefore I am resigning my seat in the United States
Senate.  Not because I am ashamed of myself, but
because there isn't a man there who can fuck worth a
damn -- and the women aren't much better.  I don't
have time to listen to windbags when I could be on my
back getting a hard, thick prong where it belongs. 
And so adieu and fuck yieu!" she concluded giving the
middle finger salute for the nation's television
cameras.

The furor over l'affaire Finger had barely died down
when NAG was embarrassed to learn their Honorary
president, Wonder Woman was out of service.  For some
time it had been damned hard to get in touch with her.
 The Army's main contact with the superheroine, Diana
Prince, was spending every free hour shacked up with
her boss Col.  Steve Trevor and had the little round
tummy to prove it.

When the lovebirds could at last be prevailed upon to
call in Wonder Woman, it was revealed just why the
superheroine had been keeping out of sight.  Although
the Amazonian Princess wasn't telling who had done the
deed, America's first line of defense had
irresponsibly let some man put a bun in her super-oven
and her doctor wasn't allowing her to travel. 
Consequently, the US military had to deal with a rogue
faction of the Ruritanian Defense Force without the
assistance of its superheroine.  It was close run
thing.

Finally, although it was not a crisis, Kate became
increasingly aware of the subtly hostile atmosphere to
NAG's agenda in the Washington social milieu.  Kate
had expected to find Washington full of angry women --
hard-bitten lawyers, disgruntled NGO executives, and
soured consultants -- eager to rally to NAG's cause. 
Instead, every time she turned around Kate heard
another story of a professional woman who suddenly
quit her job to become a happily knocked up little sex
kitten for her boyfriend or one who had to give up her
career when she "accidentally" let her husband make
her pregnant again.  Hundreds of women with children
in college were waddling around in maternity dresses
again or were back to washing diapers.  Some were
doing both.  Olivia Fuentes in NAG's Research
Department confirmed that the birth rate among upper
middle class women ages 30-45 in the Washington
metropolitan area was almost double the national
average and was still shooting up.

The queen bee of these "New Feminists," as she dubbed
them, was Angelica Lopez, the new editor of the
"Post's" Style section.  And Angelica made no secret
whom she considered to be the "Old Feminists." 
Angelica was an odd bird, Kate thought.  Admittedly
she had a strong claim to being a feminist.  She was a
successful young woman with a six figure income and a
handsome, slavish husband whom she kept home to look
after the house -- and the kids.  That was the odd
part.  Angelica had five children under four and was
pregnant again.  She filled "Style" with stories about
having sex and having babies.  Thousands of readers
adored Angelica, but unfortunately, most had rather
less supportive husbands than their icon.  So when
their bellies started getting big, THEY were the ones
who stayed home to care for the new little shoot.

No, Kate didn't come by her headaches gratis.  She had
to admit, though, that Milly might have a point.  Her
assistant did seem so happy and full of life since her
visit to Dr. Bock.  Maybe it was a good thing NAG had
selected him.  Several women doctors had bid for the
contract to be NAG's Preferred Provider of
gynecological and (Ha!) obstetric services, but Bock's
price was just too good.  Moreover, Carol Finger and
Milly, who had been on the selection committee, had
returned singing the praises of the Bock Clinic. 
Grudgingly, Kate told the eager AA to make an
appointment for her the next week.

This made Milly very happy.  Although she knew Kate
would not understand the recent changes in her life,
much less approve of them, Milly was convinced that,
somehow, the visit to Dr. Bock had been a turning
point.  Although she could not remember much about
what happened at the clinic, since then Milly had
blossomed socially.  To be more exact, were Milly not
such a little lady, one would say she had turned into
a cock hound!

Like many women who discover the joys of sex a little
tardily, Milly focused on the basics, seeking to make
up for lost time.  Candles at dinner were an
unnecessary expense and wine, however useful for
getting a guy into bed, interfered with best
performance once she had him there.  Experience had
taught her that a big plate of pasta before the main
event and Gatorade, kept by the bedside for quick
refills, were all that was needed for the nights of
strenuous lovemaking she demanded.

Milly was not yet much into romance.  Her idea of a
long term relationship was a guy who would pick her up
at work on Friday afternoon and would still be able to
get it up on Monday morning when she reluctantly
climbed off of him so she could get ready for work. 
Sadly, Milly had not yet found the man she was looking
for, so she made do with a team.  A major league
manager planning his pitching rotation for the
playoffs had nothing on Milly's strategizing her
boyfriend schedule according to her moods and social
occasions.

Primus inter pares was Horse, the Washington Wizards'
center who was hung like a ... well, the eponymous
farm animal.  Carlos was a dance instructor whose
introduction of the movements of Salsa, Cumbia, and
the Merengue into his frenetic lovemaking more than
compensated for his small stature.  Wentworth was a
pleasant looking banker, rich as sin, and not too bad
in the sack.  He had his uses.  The sleeper of the
group was Albert, a physicist at the National Science
Foundation.  He was terribly bright and didn't look so
goofy now that Milly had convinced him to get contact
lenses.  Albert was still a bit of a nerd, but Milly
decided must have a Ph.D. in the geography of
erogenous zones and that he had perhaps done some
post-doctoral work in cunnilingus.  He could get her
off so well with his fingers and his mouth, Milly only
fucked him to be a good sport ... and because his
prick was almost as big as Horse's.

Amaka was also happy to get Milly's call that Ms
Harridan would be coming for a visit and immediately
informed James.  "You handle her honey.  After all,
she *is* a feminist."  Emboldened by James's
confidence in her, Amaka did a little research on her
patient-to-be.  Although Kate had written several
books, the locus classicus of her anti-male ideology
was, "Forget It!"  This screed was mainly famous for
Kate's aphorism, that "a woman needs a man like a fish
needs a bicycle."

When Amaka saw Kate's scowling face, she knew this was
not going to be easy.  She decided that the best
approach would be a respectful, businesslike tone. 
"Since you're a new patient, Ms Harridan, I'll need to
get some preliminary information."

"I assumed that that was the purpose of having me fill
out the form," Kate icily replied.

"You're quite right," Amaka assured her, wanting to
get her into at least a semi-cooperative mood as
quickly as she could.  "All the basic, standard
information is on the form, and of course I won't
waste your time asking you to repeat it.  All I need
to do now is get some more details medical history,
and because so many questions are contingent on other
questions, it's a lot faster and more efficient to do
that in an interview."

Kate seemed to accept this common sense explanation,
if reluctantly.  She nodded and said, "Very well."

"OK, glancing over what you put down, it looks like
the only medical problem you've had in the past
several years has been headaches, is that right?"

"That's correct."

"No history of sinus trouble?  Good eyesight?  Has
there been a change in your symptoms recently?"

Kate answered the first two questions with a quick
negative shake of her head.  "The headaches have been
getting worse in the past few weeks.  Well, I'm not
sure they're worse, just more frequent."

"I see.  And has anything changed recently about your
habits or your diet or your environment at home or at
work?"

"I keep telling my secretary it's stress, and I have
certainly had to deal with a good many problems
recently.  Unfortunately, stress is unavoidable in my
work."

"Do you anything to relax?"

"I don't have much time for relaxing." Kate's
expression changed from sourness and impatience to one
of passionate zeal.  "I don't know if you're aware of
how much ground the feminist movement has lost in the
past few decades.  It's all we can do, those of us who
still care about it, to keep things from sliding back
into the dark ages."

"The real crisis is that we women have ourselves given
up the fight.  A lot of us have convinced ourselves
that full-fledged feminism is extremist rather than
simply right.  Some even take delight in being sex
objects, living their lives as if they were in some
male fantasy.  I don't suppose you've read Andrea
Dworkin?"

Amaka had in fact read some Dworkin, but she shook her
head, not wanting to extend the discussion if she
could avoid it.  But Kate seemed to be on a roll.

"Well, you should read Dworkin; she's a very important
writer.  But even Dworkin is too tolerant for my
tastes.  Men have subjugated women for years, using
them for sexual pleasure and to make babies and to
clean up after them.  And look at so-called women's
magazines! What are they about?  Babies, sex, and how
to have a pretty house! We're subjugating ourselves!
Every time a woman has sex, she's cooperating with the
oppressor!"

This was not going the way Amaka had intended.  She
had meant to gradually steer the discussion around to
the need to relax, then either to the use of
tranquilizers or self-hypnosis, which would give her
the opening she needed to start this woman's
conditioning.  But she couldn't help saying, "I've
heard that Andrea Dworkin says that any sex involving
penetration is inherently sexist.  Is that what you
mean?"

Kate shook her head emphatically.  "No, Dworkin has
that completely wrong.  That's a detail, mere
symbolism.  It isn't how you have sex, it's having sex
at all.  Any kind of sex subjugates women to men!"

Amaka looked at her with real curiosity.  "Well, what
if there aren't any men involved?  What if it's just
two gir -- two women?  How can that o--"

Kate cut her off impatiently.  "That's still sex,
isn't it?  Do you think that makes any difference to a
man?  Men love the idea of lesbian sex! They like it
as much as they do male-female sex.  Maybe more!"

Amaka opened her mouth to say something, but decided
better of it.  Reminding herself that this was not
going anywhere useful, so she decided to revert to her
original plan.  "You make a very good point," she
said, hoping agreement would avoid extending the
argument.  "You're absolutely right.  Your work is
very important.  Vital.  And I'm sure your headaches
are interfering with your work, so we had better do
something about them."

"Yes," Kate agreed, putting her palm to her forehead
and seeming to sag slightly.

"Are you getting a headache now?" Amaka asked.

"Yes," Kate said.  "I guess I got a little too
intense." She looked up sharply.  "But it's important!
Ow!"

Amaka stood up and moved behind the woman.  She began
massaging Kate's shoulder's while trying to make it
seem like an examination.  The woman's shoulder
muscles felt like taut steel cables.  "Ms Harridan,"
Amaka said, "I believe that hypertension of the
striated muscles might be at the root of your
sensitivity to stress.  I would like to examine your
staticodynamic ligomusculature more thoroughly. 
Please remove your outer clothing and lie down on the
examining table."

Kate looked sourly doubtful.  "I had assumed the
doctor would examine me."

"And I'm sure he will," Amaka said with a second
unstated meaning.  "But I assure you that I'm a
qualified medical professional, although I'm sure I
don't have to tell you that, since you would not
underrate the nursing profession simply because it is
traditionally female."

Kate seemed horrified by the very suggestion and
quickly said, "Oh, of course not.  I, I simply was
concerned about the time.  But perhaps you're right."
Efficiently, and without the slightest sign of either
shame or delight about the process, she stripped to
cotton briefs.  No doubt all her bras had been burned
years ago, Amaka told herself.

"OK, now if you'll just lie down here.  No, face down,
please.  All right, now tell me if I hurt you."

But of course she had no intention of hurting.  Amaka
massaged the woman's shoulders, her back, her legs and
arms, alternately gently and firmly, all the while
trying to make it seem like an examination despite the
pleasure she was sure she was provoking.  Occasionally
she allowed her large uniform-covered breasts to brush
against her patient's bare skin as if by accident, and
she let the tips of her fingers brush a few times
against the sides of the woman's breasts.  Kate showed
no suspicion of what Amaka was up to, but she did show
signs of responding and trying to conceal it.  Amaka
grinned inwardly, wondered if this woman ever had a
massage before.  Probably not the sort of thing a
tight ass like her would go in for.  May that was why
she was reacting so well to this one.

When Amaka shifted her attention to the surprisingly
cute little ass, though, she provoked a more negative
reaction.  "What are you doing?" Kate suddenly
demanded.

Sounding professional, Amaka said, "I'm sorry if I
startled you.  Headaches can originate in primary or
secondary muscle tension anywhere in the body, but
especially near the head and spine, and in particular
with the larger muscles, such as the gluteus maximus,
here.  I notice you seem to be particularly tense
around the base of the spine, and I really should
examine the whole pelvic area for my report."

Kate reluctantly let her press and feel her way
around, and after a while the ass muscles no longer
clinched up when she touched them.

"How's your headache?" Amaka asked.

"Why, it's gone!" Kate sounded genuinely surprised.

"Good.  Sometimes the physiological manipulation
necessary for the examination is itself therapeutic."
Damn, she thought, she was starting to sound like
what's her name on ER.  "In fact, I believe it would
help establish a treatment modality that I could
report to the doctor if I tried one additional thing."

Amaka looked around for some oil but couldn't find
any.  "I'll be right back," she said as she hastened
out of the room.

Kate lay there feeling better and almost relaxed. 
Perhaps her initial skepticism of this nurse had been
based upon some residual sexism.  After all, it
pervaded society, and patriarchal values were passed
on as much by mothers as by fathers -- that was the
insidiousness of it.  She should have thought to
mention that in explaining how even lesbian sex could
be oppressive of women, in that it reflected the
patriarchal socioeconomic system.  Marx had been, in
his typical male way, wrong.  It was not religion but
sex that was the opiate of the masses, especially the
female masses, and as with any seemingly pleasurable
addictive drug it was best avoided.

The nurse came back with some sort of bottle.  "This
is a therapeutic lubricating oil," she explained.  "It
will help me perform a palpatative examination of the
deeper musculature."  Amaka neglected to mention that
the oil had several tranquilizers that would be
absorbed through the skin mixed with it.  Since her
close call with that tough Ms. Lopez, Amaka took no
chances.  Slowly, she began to smooth the cool liquid
on Kate's back.  

Kate had found the initial examination pleasurable,
almost embarrassingly so, but when the nurse's oiled
fingers began sliding over her, pressing gently here
and there, then stroking so lightly it was barely a
touch, it felt incredible, like nothing, well, like
nothing she'd experienced in many years.  It made it
hard to think.  Perhaps she should make her stop, but
that was silly, this was simply a medical examination,
even if it was a kind she wasn't familiar with.

"Excuse me, but I don't want to get oil on your
panties," the nurse said, and Kate felt them being
pulled down to expose her posterior.  The sensation of
the slippery hands examining her bare bottom was
shocking to Kate, but she strove to avoid showing any
sign of it.  Only when an oiled finger feeling about
her tailbone slipped briefly down between her cheeks
did she start to say something.  It was over too
quickly, before she could object, although not before
it had given her a strange and strangely pleasurable,
frisson.

"Now please turn over," the nurse instructed, and Kate
did so.  The nurse put more oil on her hands and
proceeded to examine Kate's shoulders, neck, and
sides.  Amaka moved to stand at the head of the
examining table.  Kate felt the nurse's gentle fingers
trail lightly across the muscles of her face and
forehead, then to the sides of her neck and her
shoulders, then back to the face.  She felt much
better and more relaxed, but she noticed that her
nipples seemed to be standing up.  Much as she hated
to admit it, Kate knew she was becoming aroused.

The nurse said something Kate didn't catch.  She
realized that her eyes were closed and she opened
them.  The nurse was leaning over her, her face upside
down from this angle, some sort of shiny amulet
hanging from her neck and swinging slightly.

"I want you to relax as much as you can, Ms Harridan. 
Based on the what I've seen so far, I believe it's
very likely that your headaches are a consequence of
general musculoskeletal hypertonality.  It should
respond well to treatment if we know its full extent."

The skillful hands ranged more freely over Kate's body
as the amulet swung over her face, capturing her
attention.  Gradually Amaka moved to stand beside
Kate's head, one hand continuing to explore her upper
body and the other straying lower and lower in its
gentle, pleasurable examination of the abdomen.

Kate felt herself drifting into almost a dream state,
aware that she shouldn't fall asleep in the examining
room but too relaxed -- more relaxed than she had been
in years, she thought -- to really care.  In fact, the
nurse kept telling her to relax, and she kept feeling
herself do so more and more.

Almost in a daze she heard the nurse say, "Now, I need
to check some interior muscle tension, so don't be
startled.  This will only take a moment." And she felt
a lubricated finger slip gently into her vagina.  The
pleasurable shock was intense and it was all Kate
could do not to cry out or arch her back.  The finger
moved around inside her, setting off little rockets of
delight.  Then it began to pump in and out of her
while the nurse kept telling her to relax, relax, go
to sleep for her, go to sleep, listen only to her
voice ...

A weak thought that had for some time been in the back
of Kate's mind, one she had been refusing to listen
to, suddenly shouted its way into her consciousness. 
This wasn't any damned medical examination.  There was
no medical reason for finger fucking.  This was a
seduction attempt.  This so-called nurse was trying to
have sex with her, and a lesser woman than Kate
Harridan would have fallen into her trap!

"What the hell are you doing!" she spat out, trying to
sit up.

The nurse, still standing beside her, looked a little
surprised by the attempt at resistance, but her hand
didn't miss a stroke and Kate realized to her horror
that she half-wanted her to continue.

Amaka leaned over her, keeping Kate from rising,
murmuring soothing instructions to relax and as the
pleasure between her legs increased, Kate felt the
tenseness draining out of her again against her will.

"Stop it!" Kate insisted, weakly trying to close her
legs and push away the hand that was robbing her of
her will.  "I know what you're doing and it isn't
going to work!"

"Isn't it?" Amaka asked sweetly.  "I believe you've
overlooked something about sex.  Just because men like
sex doesn't mean it's bad for women.  In fact, it's a
source of female power.  I'm using it on you right
now, and it's pretty effective, wouldn't you say?"

"No, no That's lipstick feminism crap!  All bullshit!"
Kate replied foggily.  She was still trying to push
the nurse's hand away from her, but she was at a
disadvantage half-lying in this position.  Every time
she managed to force the nurse's hand away with both
of hers, Amaka simply writhed her oiled hand free and
went back to what she was doing.  Covering herself
with her hands didn't work either, because the nurse
simply shifted the focus of her attack to Kate's
sensitive inner thighs or sides or breasts, and Kate
was by now so turned on that almost any contact with
those skilled fingers sent involuntary thrills through
her.

This is crazy! Kate told herself.  Why can't I fight
this?  I've had enough men think they could seduce me,
hoping to bag a feminist as a trophy, and those stupid
bastards never came close.  What's this woman doing to
me?  Why can't I control myself?  Her mind seemed
sluggish, unable to think.  She felt the nurse's lips
encircle one of her nipples and begin to suckle, the
hot tongue flicking across and around the hard bud. 
She couldn't keep from whimpering from unwanted but
undeniable pleasure, and she began relaxing back onto
the table.

"Don't fight me, baby.  You're too hot to fight.  You
need to relax and have a good come!"  As her struggles
gradually weakened and eyes began to drift closed Kate
began to figure it out.  Amaka wasn't just seducing
her.  All that talk about relaxing, that sparkling,
waving amulet, it had to be hypnosis.  She was being
seduced and hypnotized at the same time, with the one
reinforcing the other and making them both incredibly
hard to fight.

That meant she was in much greater danger than she'd
realized.  This wasn't just some horny lesbian after
sex as she'd thought.  This was someone who wanted to
take complete control of her, to reduce her to some
kind of sex slave or worse.  She couldn't let that
happen, she had to fight it.  If she didn't fight it,
who knew what might happen?

Was this what had happened to Milly?  Had Milly been
brainwashed at this place?  And Carol Finger!  That
explained her disgusting transformation.  Now Kate
wasn't just angry or upset, she ought to be scared,
but somehow she wasn't.

She tried again to fend her off her seducer,
struggling.  This time she almost succeeded in sitting
up.

Amaka wrapped her arms around her and began whispering
in her ear.  "You can't get away now, you're too far
gone, honey, so horny.  Now relax for me, relax
now..."

Kate felt herself responding to the suggestions and
said, "No!" She twisted around, trying to get away. 
Amaka was still breathing in her ear, "You can't
resist me.  Give in.  You want to give in.  You want
to come too bad.  Close your eyes, now.  Sleep for me.
 Sleep..."

Kate continued to squirm against her attacker, trying
to get away, trying not to listen, but her sense of
touch, made hypersensitive by the massage, made the
struggling contact more and more erotic.  When she
fought to keep her eyes open despite the hypnotic
suggestions she felt her sexual arousal grow
irresistibly, and when she tried to concentrate on
controlling her sexual instincts her eyelids refused
to stay open.

Little by little she felt herself relaxing back onto
the examining table.  She ordered her body to obey
her, to throw off this female collaborator with the
forces of patriarchy, but her body had already sold
out to the pleasurable sensations Amaka could produce.

Amaka's hands were once again exploring her body,
forcing her to respond against her will.

Kate felt helplessly half angry, partly frustrated,
but more and more she felt another sensation, an
undeniable sensation, not quite a buzzing but
something rather like it, that seemed to pervade the
whole area between her legs and fuzzy mound just
before it.  Amaka's hands were there, making her feel
this way.

As the sensation grew it drove before it all her other
thoughts and feelings.  She heard herself gasping for
breath, felt her hips bucking violently against the
table, felt her vaginal muscles, all her muscles,
suddenly contract and squeeze tight and her breathing
stop for an instant, and then the first orgasm she had
had since high school, since before she joined the
movement, came flooding over her like a hot tidal
wave, like a wall of lava, like nothing she could even
imagine, and she felt her little remaining will
slipping away and her whole self, mind and body, fall
under the power of the beautiful black woman.

Two hours later Amaka was smiling as a dazed but
dreamily smiling Kate Harridan stood up to go, still a
little shaky.  "I'm so happy it turned out those
headaches were just stress related, Ms Harridan.  If
you just listen every day to the tapes and take the
pills Dr. Bock put in you bag, you'll be pleased with
the change." Amaka instructed, not adding that she
knew someone else who would be even more pleased.

*****

Milly did not expect an immediate transformation;
instead she just smiled at the slow improvements she
began to notice in Kate's demeanor and wardrobe.  Week
by week the hem of her boss's skirts crept up until
they were a really impressive six inches above the
large woman's knees.  The severe bun gave way to tight
curls with sexy highlights.  Some criticized the large
loopy earrings that appeared in Kate's newly pierced
ears and other thought the bangles were not serious
enough for the head of NAG.  High heel strap sandals
and brightly painted toe nails also signaled that
something was afoot.  Kate's blouses got frillier and
when they became translucent, Milly noted that Kate's
respectable boobies were on display in some
eye-catching push-up bras whose colors matched those
of the blouses.

For a few days Milly feared that Kate was getting
dolled up with an eye to making passes at her or some
of the other women at NAG.  In an organization like
theirs, several were of that persuasion.  Even before
Kate's transformation, Ethel Parker in Accounting had
lusted for the shapely head of NAG.  The slim woman
was always attracted by opposites.  She had dreamed of
removing Kate's thick jacket and heavy blouse and
getting her bony fingers on that overflowing set of
jugs.  She yearned to pull down one of those woolen
skirts and peel off the opaque pantyhose to get her
henna curls between Kate's plump legs.  The very
thought of the effort required to get Kate naked
almost exhausted her, but Ethel reckoned there was
enough Kate underneath all those clothes to be worth
it.  Now that Kate was sporting mini skirts with
stockings and revealing blouses, Ethel was shivering
with lust.

Ethel's desire for Kate was apparent to Milly who knew
she would have to be alert.  Nothing untoward must
developed before she could get the sexy redhead some
professional help from Dr. Bock.  Her worries about
Kate, however, vanished when Milly saw how her boss
enjoyed flirting with and teasing the bicycle delivery
boys.  The President of NAG became a real hit among
the young men as she bent over to sign for packages,
making sure her skirt hiked up almost to her crotch
and setting her titties to bob tantalizingly.  She
didn't seem to mind when the same boy returned to have
her sign two or three times for the same item.

Milly would have been equally amused had she been able
to observe the daily vignettes that had developed at
Kate's apartment.  One morning soon after Kate started
dressing a little more like a woman, she got a single,
almost deferential little wolf whistle from a worker
at the construction site across the street.  Kate
flashed him a grin and rewarded him with an extra
swing of her hips as she slid her shapely ass into the
little Neon.  The next day several pairs of masculine
eyes awaited Kate's emergence from her building.  The
sight of a healthily built lady with a skirt cut
closer to her waist than her knees and whose hips
rolled provocatively as she undulated toward her
automobile, did not disappoint them.  A whole flute
section of whistles and trills registered the men's
approval.

Fortunately, Kate was punctual, so she caused little
disruption to the construction schedule when every
morning at exactly 7:25 all activity stopped.  Seventy
five men waited  to see what bit of exaggerated
exhibitionism the hot broad across the street had in
store for them that day.  Whatever it was always drew
a chorus of approving hoots and cheers.  Kate loved
the effect she had on all those burly men.  Of course
all those burly men had quite an effect on Kate, too. 
During her drive to work she had quite a tingle
between her legs that forced her to steer with one
hand much of the time.  By her arrival at the office
the first few days, her panties were too soaked to be
worn.  She coped by donning 'Lite Days' and changing
the pad first thing.

Although Kate's headaches were gone, Milly noted that
her boss still was not entirely well.  She seemed
distracted and had difficulty concentrating.  Milly
smiled, remembering how antsy she had felt before she
met Horse.  Several times when Milly walked into
Kate's office unexpectedly, she glimpsed Kate quickly
withdrawing her hand from between her legs.  She
decided Kate was ready for the proffered help.

One day soon afterward Kate returned from lunch to
find a package on her desk.  "Milly, what is this
doing here?," she asked.

"I ...  er ...  it's ...  uhh ...  something I got for
you, ma'am.  I thought you might you need it."

Puzzled, Kate opened the package.  "Milly!  This looks
like a ..." she gasped, looking at the long
cylindrical object.

"The batteries go in there," Milly said shyly,
pointing and trying to keep everything matter of fact.
 "I put in a fresh set of Eveready Energizers."

Kate turned beet red and ordered Milly out of the
office.  Disgusted, she thrust the object into the
bottom drawer.  Try as she might, however, she
couldn't get it out of her mind.  She had already
changed pads once that afternoon; it was hard to wait
for five o'clock to go home.  She didn't make it. 
About 4:30, Kate told Milly to hold all her calls and
a soft hum interspersed with muffled moans and sighs
began emanating from Kate's office.  Milly was still
hearing the same sounds when she left for her night
with Horse.  Next morning, she found a more serene
Kate asleep on the couch in her office.  Milly made a
note to send out for more Energizers.

A few days later Milly got the call she had been
expecting.  "Yes, sir, I gave it to her." ...  "I
think so, sir.  She took it home and she's been coming
in late." ...  "If you say, sir."

With some trepidation, Milly spoke into the intercom. 
"A Mr. William Jenkins on the line for you, ma'am."
...  "He didn't say, ma'am."

"What do YOU want, Bill?" Kate demanded sourly.  There
was no reason to feign civility.  Bill Jenkins was
President of NARM (National Association of Real Men). 
His organization of male chauvinist pigs was the
antithesis of everything NAG stood for.  The fact that
Bill had dumped her for that skinny blonde bimbo back
at Berkeley had nothing to do with her distaste for
the man and his cause.

"Ahw, don't be that way, Katie," Bill pleaded, perhaps
forgetting how she *hated* being called "Katie."  "I
thought it was time NAG and NARM buried the hatchet,
you know, start to work together as partners.

"Partners?  In what, for heaven's name?"

"Go out to dinner with me tonight and let me explain."
he entreated..  "Please?"

Kate was about to hang up on the asshole, but
something made her hesitate.  Perhaps it would be
droll to hear how Bill Jenkins thought the
organizations he and Kate headed could be "partners." 
"Pick you up at 8:30?" he asked.

Kate surprised herself with the pains she took to look
her best.  She had been wondering when she would wear
that rather daring little red leather mini she had
picked up a few days ago on a whim.  Well, why not? 
Let the bastard look, for all he good it would do him.
 He had always been a leg man.  In fact, why not TEASE
him a little?  Make the old goat regret fucking that
blonde who had a waist twice hers by now, Kate would
wager.  A deliciously wicked thought crossed her mind.
 Did she really need a bra?  Her tits were big girls;
they could take care of themselves.  The stupid man
had passed up many a happy night pleasuring these
babies just because the blonde minx opened her legs
for him the first time they were alone together, Kate
thought with disgust.

Kate considered going without panties, too -- that
would give him an eyeful -- but rejected the idea. 
For some reason she was PRETTY damp down there
tonight.  She didn't want to soil her skirt.  She
decided red fishnet stockings would be a nice touch. 
Four inch heels were good enough for the office, but
she decided on the fire-engine red five-inch pumps for
an evening out.  Finally she dabbed on "Midnight
Assignation."  Marie?  Hadn't that been the bitch's
name?

Kate couldn't understand the way Bill squired her into
the restaurant, seeming to treat the occasion as a
date rather than a business meeting.  She tried to
turn the conversation to professional matters but
found it difficult over the arucula and radiccio
salad, broiled lobster, and a fruity Australian white
wine.  Bill repeatedly parried her questions with
witty stories that kept Kate tittering.  The pig was a
great raconteur; always had been, now that she thought
of it.  Letting him refill her wine glass that third
time could have been a mistake; it didn't get her any
closer to understanding his ideas of partnership.

She had even less success on the dimly lit dance
floor.  Kate had forgotten how much fun it was to be
whirled and twirled around by a man who really knew
those old steps that few people did nowadays.  When
the music turned slower and she felt his hands caress
her buttocks.  It just felt so natural to melt into
his arms and let him hold her close.  Snuggling her
head against his shoulder didn't really mean anything
romantic; it was just a social ritual.  But the
wetness she felt between her legs certainly was not
conducive to serious talk about institutional
partnership.

No, Kate realized, if she was going to find out what
Bill had in mind for NAG and NARM collaboration, she
would just have to go back to his house with him as he
suggested.  If she had not been having so much fun,
Kate would have been really annoyed at all this
beating around the bush.  In the car with his arm
around her was the same.  Would this bear of a man
ever get serious?  Why did he want to have a liqueur
on the couch before he would out with it?  It was very
nice of him to tell her how pretty she looked, but
what did that have to with his idea of partnership? 
And flattering though it was that Bill though she had
pretty legs and wanted to see more of them, pushing
her dress up like that was quite naughty, though it
did make Kate laugh.

Well, that she had a great set of jugs was no news to
Kate!  She guessed there was no real harm in letting
him unbutton her blouse to admire them better.  In
fact, it had its practical advantage.  If Bill had
been kissing her man melters, as he was now, through
the material of her blouse, what a dry cleaning bill
she would have!

Men!  They could go to the moon and explore continents
but needed help with the zipper of a woman skirt!  She
hated to think of the commotion if she hadn't been
clever enough to leave the bra at home.  Oh, that was
nice.  Having her titties kissed while a hand wormed
it way into her panties was a lot more exciting now
than she remembered from the back seat of Bill's
automobile in college.  My Goodness!  Bill Jenkins had
learned a few things about women in the last twenty
years, Kate reflected.  She was sure he would never
have know how to put his mouth down THERE in college! 
Uhh!  "A few things?"  My God, a lot!  When had he
pushed aside her panties?  He had his tongue in her
...  UUU! ...  He was going to make her ...  AAAH ... 
yes, she was about to ...

"Ahiyouuuuu!"

After that come, the exact sequence of events was a
bit fuzzy, but they included Kate tottering upstairs a
few orgasms later in just her panties and heels,
Bill's hand on her shapely ass providing the needed
guidance.  Somehow the panties, too, disappeared and
Kate found herself lying on her back, red spikes
pointed to the ceiling with a naked Bill Jenkins
looming over her.  His prick was about halfway into
her very wet pussy and sinking deeper!  Kate knew she
was about to orgasm again.

Moments later another inhuman shriek pierced the
midnight calm.

"Oh shit!" Bill thought  Of all the times for his home
security alarm to malfunction, why *now*?  He
scrambled down to the basement to turn the infernal
contraption off as quickly as possible without
disturbing the aroused woman lying naked in his bed. 
When he returned, however, he saw the spell was
broken.  With fire in her eyes Kate was down in the
living room with her panties back on, pulling up her
skirt and searching for her blouse.

"You son of a bitch!" Kate hissed.  "You deceitful,
low life, treacherous scoundrel.  Why waste abuse on a
snake like you?  Take me home this instant!"

Kate Harridan when she was riled, brooked no dissent. 
A chastened Bill Jenkins meekly opened the car door
for the fuming woman.  She slammed it closed herself. 
"But Katie ..." he tried to explain as he slid into
the driver's side.

"Shut up!  I don't want a peep out of you!" Kate
glowered.  There was nothing Bill could do but start
the car and point it in the direction of Kate's
apartment.  To break the silence he slipped a cassette
in the tape player.

Kate was furious, as wrought up as she ever remembered
being.  As with most women, when she was angry with
herself, she projected her ire outward.  What a creep!
 How could Bill Jenkins think she would fall for that
romantic evening routine?  Bill Jenkins playing the
gentleman!  What a laugh!  Bill Jenkins was no
gentleman.  He was a rogue, a cad.  The machista pig's
idea of a good night with a woman was probably to
throw the bitch down on a hardwood floor and fuck her
senseless.

Kate bet he'd done it enough times, too, starting with
that dumb blonde in college.  Bill sure had the
equipment for it.  Kate eyed the bulge in his pants
knowingly.  Silly women didn't stand a chance with men
like Bill.  Just like that college floozy, they would
glimpse a prong like Bill's and get so horny they
couldn't keep their legs together.  Any man with a
prick the size of Bill Jenkins's was dangerous.  Kate
had never seen a package that size in a pair of pants.
 Bill probably had women falling over him, hot little
numbers half his age that welcomed him into their warm
wet fuck holes in a trice.  Gad how she hated him!

"O. K., Katie.  Here we are." Bill said at last.  "And
I really am sorry about ..."

"I thought I told you not to speak!" Kate snapped. 
Bill waked beside her to the door in silence.

"Well!" Kate growled as she turned her key in the
lock.

"Well, what?" Bill asked uncomprehendingly.

"After your disgusting behavior tonight, do you think
you can just dump me on my door stoop like a sack of
potatoes?  Get your sorry ass in here.  I need to get
fucked!"

It was Zen, Kate later reflected dreamily as she
drifted down from a third orgasm and snuggled closer
to her now sleeping partner.  Once she stopped
searching, the meaning became crystal clear.  Bill had
his huge part'n'er and damned if it didn't feel good!

*****

The next few weeks saw a general relaxation of
discipline around NAG headquarters.  The President,
frankly, was not setting a good example, often ducking
out on Thursday afternoons for a long weekend with her
new silver-haired beau and sometimes not straggling
back until noon on Monday.

Fortunately, Kate had loyal staff that stepped into
the breech.  NAG's head of Security, La Toya Ruston,
put the fear of God into the unruly young men in their
fancy cars who were causing havoc, queuing up for
their dates every afternoon.  Olivia Fuentes in
Research tried to keep up a semblance of a media
program.  Victoria Chung of Personnel relentlessly
docked the pay of girls who couldn't wait until
quitting time to get started on their evening trysts.

One would have expected Milly to help hold the fort,
but Milly was facing one of life's big decisions.  A
little queasiness one morning brought something to
mind she had not thought about for a while.  She had
been having such a great time these last four months,
but she realized that since visiting the Clinic, she
had been forgetting to re-fill her prescription for
contraceptives.  With the exception of Wentworth who
was always responsible, she hadn't had much
protection.  When she got going with Carlos or Albert
or especially with Horse, she just didn't have the
heart to insist that they stop to put on a condom and
she sure as hell didn't spoil the moment by making
them pull out before they came.  Olivia would have
made a more exact calculation.  Milly's was rough. 
Let's see ...  three men, twice a week each for four
months, average, say, four times a night times maybe
three oz.  per come ...  Hum.  About two gallons of
semen by her reckoning.  Yep, she was probably
pregnant.

Waiting until the baby was born was not the best way
to assign paternity; it weakened her bargaining
position.  The decision was too serious for "enney,
menney minney moh."  A more objective method was
required and the answer was pretty obvious.  Wentworth
had even more money than Horse and was a lot more
malleable.  Of course Milly expected his lawyers to
try to push him into a stingy pre-nuptial agreement,
but she and Wenny would pay a visit to Dr. Bock to
talk about the baby and she was sure Amaka could give
her fiancee enough backbone to stand up to a few
lawyers.  Besides, Wentworth would need Amaka's help
to "remember" that night he had begged Milly not to
make him use a condom and not to wonder why their baby
was a lot darker than either he or Milly.

Horse, Carlos and Albert were not too happy when Milly
informed them she would not be able to see them quite
so frequently once she was married.  They were
mollified, however, when she promised to introduce
them to some of her friends.  The ones she had in mind
were taking work far too seriously, anyway, and needed
a little more fun in their lives.  Milly scheduled
appointments with Dr. Bock for Olivia, Victoria, and
La Toya.

*****

The group wedding of Kate and three NAG officers was
the socio-political event of the season.  Angelica
Lopez headlined the "Style" spread "They're All 'New
Feminists' Now."  The photo caption said it all,
"...from left to right the party comprised Mr.
Charles, "Horse" Jones and his bride, Victoria Chung
Jones; Mr. Carlos Valdez and bride La Toya Ruston
Valdez; Mr. Albert Wu and bride Olivia Fuentes Wu; and
Mr. William Jenkins, President of NARM and bride
Catherine Harridan Jenkins, President of NAG. 
Accompanying the party were Mr. Wentworth Stokes and
wife Mildred Stokes with infant and Dr. James Bock of
the Board of Directors of NARM and companion, Ms.
Amaka Ebe."

The touching photograph showed a delicate Victoria
with her dark, straight hair and almond eyes smiling
up blissfully as the huge basketball player looked
down on her in adoration.  Heaven help the man who so
much as LOOKED the wrong way at his darling Vickie. 
No bantam rooster could have been more proud than
Carlos at the side of the broadly grinning black woman
who may have doubled his weight.  Olivia and Albert
were oblivious to the camera, lost in each others
eyes.  Kate in her surprisingly short bridal gown
beamed as Bill held her around the waist like a prized
possession.  It was only a fluke of the camera angle
that enabled a close observer of each bride's belly to
note that she had jumped the gun by several months on
starting a family.

The photographer had not thought it seemly for a
family newspaper to include the adjacent tableau,
although it was of considerable human interest.  In
it, a thin fiery redhead stood grinning, very proud
and very pregnant, in the middle of the other four
Wizards starters who were looking quizzically at each
other.

The End
But not really: Read "Personal Examination"

Comments, please, to:
Homer Vargas
vargas111@yahoo.com

I wish to acknowledge inspiration from "Downing
Street" and someone else who does not wish to be
acknowledged without blaming them for the execution. 
I also wish to thank "Gary Grant," who ought to be
writing himself, and who will recognize his input.


=====
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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