(Homer Vargas) A New Infection (MC, Mf, FF, Fm, Cabinet, CNN, preg)
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NOTE: Posted by J.U. at the request of H.V.
A New Infection (MC, Mf, FF, Fm, Cabinet, CNN, preg)
By Homer Vargas
[Note: This story has its origin in "The Virus" by The Joker]
http://www.mcstories.com/Virus/Virus.html
That "universe" has been developed by several other authors,
including Borris Ludmenkov.
http://www.mcstories.com/MadmanAndTheGuineaPigs/MadmanAndTheGuineaPigs.html
and A4K Breakfast
http://www.mcstories.com/VirusAmanda/VirusAmanda.html
http://www.mcstories.com/VirusOrigin/VirusOrigin.html
from whom I took some of the premises of this tale. Of course,
I take it in a very different direction that is quite subversive
of the major premises of the "real" Virus stories, so you might
think of this taking place in a parallel "Virus" universe.
I also acknowledge the help of numerous readers who caught many
of my stupid mistakes before the rest of you could. I
especially thank Janey for proofreading, but since I have had my
filthy word processor on it since she cleaned it up, brand new
errors have no doubt have oozed in.
A New Infection
By Homer Vargas
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 All Seal alarm froze her heart. Putting aside false
hopes that it was only a drill, the Chief of the National
Institutes of Health's Western Biodome looked at the maze of
lights and lines to see where the emergency originated. Only
the gravest accident would require an All Seal, which severed
all chemical and biological links of the Biodome with the
outside. 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, the All Seal 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 All Seal
switch?"
The image of a tall black woman filled the screen. "I did,
Mechas. Look at this!"
Ayo Obkonko patched the television feed to the viewscreen in
front of Mercedes. The annoying CNN logo and fanfare was at
last fading and the bearded talking head of Wolf Blitzer
appeared. "To recap the 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 Europe and 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, Christiane 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 information. Then the camera focused
in on a gorgeous young woman with long, lustrous black hair and
smoldering, deep-set dark eyes. Mercedes was shocked at what
she saw, 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 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'
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 extra-ordin-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 to say it
just 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 BLEEPhim . . . 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 BLEEPed 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 neat places they send me!"
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 the seal on place?" Ayo asked.
"We have a vast store of water and several months 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 her for months."
"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 her 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 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. 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 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, but
her attention was jerked back when she heard him say, "You know
that I have found various positions for women in my
administration!"
The Secretary of State blanched and the Secretary of Energy
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
hear 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 sleazebag, but a sexy sleazebag, she thought.
Within hours Mercedes had reorganized the team's work,
everything else being pushed aside to work on the Virus problem.
As soon as things had settled down at the lab, she 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 we can't .
. .?" he asked nervously.
"Afraid so, Sweetie. I'll be here until we find a cure or we
run out of food."
"There is not 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 lovable if otherworldly poet. 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 sometimes monomaniacal
dedication to work. The sex was 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 body had almost no resistance to such a
virus. 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 the somatic
changes were not 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 key confirmed what Mercedes had long
suspected, that men and women were intelligent in different
ways. It turned out that at least some different genes were
involved.
In other ways things were not going so well, however. Her most
recent call had shown that Robert was now clearly infected. As
Mercedes looked at him 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, he
had become a studmuffin and was totally out of her reach!
"You're not doing anything foolish, are you darling?" she
inquired.
"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, she's been hinting . . . ."
"Well, let her hint. 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 Paul's department. Mercedes could not imagine a woman
whom she should fear less
"I'll try to 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.
*****
Weeks later things were getting dicey.
Events on the outside certainly gave Mercedes and her team
plenty of motivation. The 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 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 in
first babies, even of women in their forties and fifties.
Single women gave up waiting for Mr. Right and let Mr.
Whoever-Was-Handy make them pregnant.
Sales of women's apparel shot up as millions of former career
women ditched their conservative business attire, which no
longer fit anyway, for slinky skirts, revealing blouses and
spikey heels, only to have to change again as their bulging
bellies required a hot new 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.
Outside events, on the other hand, created a morale problem for
Mercedes as well as the others. Last week, when she had called
to check up on Robert it was a woman's voice crying out, "Yes!
Oh, Yes!" that triggered the voice-activated videocom link.
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 Robert's mouth was a
younger version of Ruth, screaming in orgasms of her own, "Oh
Mom, he's eating meeeee! . . . 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 problems. The lack of sex had them frustrated, jealous,
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 fucking 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 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 girl, but let's be practical." All eyes turned
to the big 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 m' Billy Bob is off bangin'
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, Sr."
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, a 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 some gen-you-wine simulated fuckin'."
"'Course, if ya cain't wait, I could share the Hardy Boys with
somebody," 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 while delivering papers, 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 big 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
hand disappeared beneath the table before the meeting turned 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 knew 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 conceptual breakthrough came from
Vivian Wu, who realized that what was needed was not a vaccine
-- the Virus had already altered the DNA of the infected host --
but a new infection altogether. With that insight Mercedes
could organize efforts to create a new virus 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. 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 for Social Security show that
the baby explosion we've got going will have the Trust Fund in
the black for a century. So, I've decided to call off your 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 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 to say,
"Thank you," too. He'd probably knock her up 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 nodding agreement. The voluptuous and amazingly
rejuvenated Secretary of State, though, was not paying much
attention, apparently too busy pulling aside her panties to let
the Secretary of Defense give her a delightful little finger
fuck. The Secretary of Energy was similarly distracted, holding
her miniskirt up to let the Secretary Housing and Urban
Development inspect her tummy. Proudly he was patting the
unmistakable little bulge that had resulted from a late-night
meeting at which, paradoxically, he had supplied most of the
energy, but she was doing the development. The VP's wife was
looking down over her enormous rack in adoration at her husband
who oozed earnestness as she ran her fingers through his thick
blond curls with one hand while with the other she fingered her
dripping pussy.
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. 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 and unseal the
facility."
"In the name of humanity, Sir, I refuse."
"You'll have to open the facility Mercedes. We are prepared
for your intransigence. If you do not follow my order, I will
have the power cut. Soon you will be without breathable air.
Then you can choose between becoming happy sexy women and
asphyxiation. Have a nice day!" A ruthless 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
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
silly to work," Bridgett added.
"OK, ladies. That gives us ten days. 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
seventy two hours and Mercedes could tell she and all her team
were infected with the Virus. The physical changes already were
evident. Her own bust had increased by two inches at least and
a growing, giggly horniness made it difficult to keep her mind
on business.
"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. "I'm not 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." She smirked and wiggled her tight, eyepopping
butt.
"There's only one way to find out, ladies. Drink up!" Mercedes
indicated the small cups distributed around the table and one by
one each woman drank down the pink liquid. "And that is that!"
Mercedes said with finality. "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 drew the petite but
curvy form of Vivian Wu into a sizzling kiss that did not go
unreciprocated.
The next morning the entrance opened by a time device and
allowed an armed SWAT team to storm into the Biodome. The men
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. 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.
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 used for quantum cosmology
with Bridgett Thursday was devoted to political science with
Monica Lou; and on Friday she and Mary Jo talked engineering.
Weekends she kept for herself -- and Robert except occasionally
when Christiane was out of town and she sent Jamie over for
safekeeping.
"Mechas, my dear, you simply fail to recognize the importance
of STRUCTURE. A hermeneutical exegesis of a messages can no
more be disguised by 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! 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 away to cook, or change
diapers, or whatever it was that men did. 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's easy access to her pussy. Gently, they
kissed and sucked each other to a last sleepy orgasm of the
afternoon.
*****
In the first interviews with the "Biodome Seventeen," as the
media dubbed them, Mercedes 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 virus
they created would not only reverse the intelligence-destroying
effects of the first virus, but would actually make women over
twice as smart as men 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 Austen novels, and men's utter
absorption by magazines like "House and Garden." They also
adduce changes in sports as well. Football and other contact
sports have disappeared, but the boys do enjoy watching those
top-heavy girls try to figure skate.
Others suggest women have to keep men out of public life in
order to protect them from other women who are not only smarter,
but who can screw them into submission at the slightest
disagreement. Knowing men's vulnerability, wives and
girlfriends wisely keep them home, where they are relatively
safe from exploitation. Imagine a man trying to turn down a
saleslady if his woman 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 because for
the first time in human history they can have all the sex they
want without having to go out to slave, lie, steal, and kill to
get it. Moreover, with women running the world it is so rich
and peaceful and requires so little work, and since child
rearing and household chores are not their concern, women can
indulge their men with large families. Occasionally, a man may
hesitate to take on the burden of another child, but that
hesitation never lasts long when his woman wants him to make her
pregnant.
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 their burgeoning families. It is just another
demonstration of the Goodness of our Creator and Her divine
Providence.
The End
Comments to Homer Vargas
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