View Full Version : The heavenly virus!!!

08-25-2009, 09:56 PM
Upfront note: This isn't exactly a rape story. But it's mean.


It was about 5:30 in the afternoon when the grey BMW came screeching round the corner. The short line of people waiting at the bus stop stared as the car pulled over and jerked to a stop at the curb, parking somewhat askew, and the door flew open. A classy-looking businesswoman of about 35 staggered out, clutching her head. She was wearing a navy-blue jacket and matching skirt of expensive material, dark stockings, and flat shoes. Regaining her composure she glanced up and down the street and then approached the five people waiting for the bus.

Three women, two men. The businesswoman addressed herself to the two males. "Please....." she clutched her head again. "I need.....you know. Could you....." She had shoulder-length straight dark hair and was fairly attractive, despite occasionally wincing in pain.

The older of the two, a man in his forties wearing a suit and tie, to whom her words had mainly been directed, answered with genuine regret in his voice. "Ma'am, normally I'd be delighted to accommodate you, but I just had to do the same for my secretary right before leaving the office, and that was just ten minutes ago. I wouldn't have any left for you."

She turned to the other male, a lanky blond college-student type of around 20 wearing jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt. "Sorry, lady, but I don't have time," he said. "The bus comes in two minutes. If I miss it it's twenty minutes till the next one."

"I'll make the wait worth your while," she said. She reached into her purse, pulled out a wad of bills, and thrust them at him. There were three twenties and a ten. The young man's eyes widened as he took them.

"OK," he said, and stuffed them in his pocket. "Where --"

The businesswoman grabbed his arm and pointed at a nearby alley. They rushed off together. The older man and the three women watched incuriously as they went.

Once in the dubious privacy of the alley, the businesswoman backed the young man up against the wall and got down on her knees in front of him, clawing at the fastening of his jeans. She quickly got his zipper open and pulled out his already half-erect penis. She took it in her mouth and bobbed her head back and forth along the shaft, sucking frantically, working on it with her tongue as well. The young man closed his eyes and began to make soft murmuring noises. He slipped one hand down inside the front of her expensive blouse and inside one cup of her bra to squeeze her breast gently.

Outside, the bus arrived, picked up its passengers, and departed. A few minutes later, had there still been anyone there, they would have heard a series of three or four male groans of pleasure emanating from the alley, followed -- if their hearing were especially sensitive -- by a faint gulp. A minute later the businesswoman walked out of the alley. The knees of her stockings were muddy from where she had been kneeling down, and she wiped her lips with the back of her hand as she walked to her BMW, climbed in, and drove off. A moment later the young man emerged, doing up his zipper. He walked to the bus stop and waited there, breathing deeply and evenly, a faint smile on his lips.

08-25-2009, 09:56 PM
There had once been a time when such a scene would have been considered unusual. Indeed back then, before the Proclamation, it would have been unimaginable.

At first the Proclamation had not been taken very seriously. It simply seemed too bizarre. It purported to come from a secret group of virologists and genetic engineers dedicated to the "reform" of human society to eradicate "sexual repression" and reverse the "unnatural" social equality of the sexes. An artificial virus, it declared, had been released into the Earth's atmosphere in a dozen widely-separated cities around the planet. It was an airborne virus and would soon be spread worldwide. On men, it had no effect whatsoever; it was designed to affect only human females in the age range from early adulthood to menopause. On these women, it worked in a precisely-engineered way. Most of the time it lay dormant, but periodically it would become active, signaling its activity by the onset of a severe headache. This headache would gradually increase in intensity; if left untreated for several hours, it would eventually reach full migraine level. There was only one way to make it stop. There was an antidote which could be taken orally; once this was swallowed, the virus would return instantly to its dormant state, the headache would cease, and the victim's condition would return to normal -- until, of course, the next time the virus became active.

This "antidote", the Proclamation stated, was a common, indeed universally-available substance: semen.

"This virus," concluded the Proclamation, "will cleanse the world of the lie of female dignity and autonomy and restore woman to her proper place – on her knees before the male, pleasuring him as though her very life depended on it."

At first the Proclamation was dismissed as a bad joke. Within a few days, however, a number of strange cases came to light in various parts of the world -- cases of women beset by strange headaches against which conventional medications had no effect, and which rapidly became intolerably severe. The desperate victims, remembering the Proclamation, resorted to performing oral sex on their husbands or lovers, swallowing the semen. In every case, this act brough instant relief.

08-25-2009, 09:56 PM

The news shocked the world. And within days, the number of cases grew into millions. The virus worked exactly as the Proclamation had said. Only adult women up to the age of menopause were affected. Only semen-swallowing stopped the headaches. Regular infusions of the "antidote" seemed to keep the attacks at bay; women who swallowed on a regular basis as part of their normal sexual activity never suffered even the initial warning headaches, but remained completely unaffected; in them, the virus always stayed dormant.

Soon it became clear that every adult woman on Earth carried the virus (officially designated Female Cerebrophagic Virus, or FCV). And the period of dormancy between attacks seemed to be getting shorter. At first it had been about two weeks; soon it was down to a few days. Eventually it settled down at around 36 hours. To be on the safe side, a woman needed a dose of the "antidote" every day. If this seemed too degrading, she could hold out until the onset of the vile headaches warned her that she had left it too long; then, she had no choice but to seek out a male to provide her with the elixir of relief.

Those who had husbands or regular boyfriends adapted with relatively little trouble. Those who were single faced a strong incentive to secure regular partners. Among those who would not or could not do so, the attractive at least found their looks an asset in procuring what they needed when the attacks came. The unattractive often faced the extra humiliation of having to offer money to males for the privilege of fellating them. Diets and weight-loss clinics boomed as these unfortunates strove to achieve the healthier figures which had now become even more coveted than before.

Lesbians faced a particularly troubling dilemma. Having long maintained that any form of heterosexual intercourse was anathema to them, particularly that act which was geared purely for the gratification of the male, these misguided women now found themselves forced to "kneel and nurse" alongside their heterosexual sisters. Some, having thus been introduced to male-female relations, were eventually inspired to make a full transition to normal sexuality, abandoning their Sapphic desires. Others never managed this conversion; but in defiance of their own orientation, they still found themselves having to perform the despised act once a day, using all their oral skills to coax forth a burst of the loathed but vital fluid from some man, after which they grimly but inevitably swallowed.

An entertaining sidelight to this situation was the wave of mysterious pregnancies which swept the lesbian community in the months following the Proclamation. The cause was, of course, their persistence in their customary practice of cunnilingus with one another, while neglecting to consider the implications of the residual traces of semen most of them now bore on their tongues.

Still worse was the plight of nuns, sworn to abstention from all sexual activity, and slaves to a religious dogma that semen's only legitimate use was procreation. Most held out with grim defiance for days or even weeks, until the unendurable torment finally drove them to obtain clandestinely that which they needed for relief, though their secret could in no case be kept very effectively, since the very fact of their ability to function normally betrayed their regular performance of the forbidden act.

With surprising speed, life settled into its new routine. It became commonplace and accepted to see women approach men, even in public places, and beg or even pay for the right to perform an act which they had previously been accustomed to dole out only as a favor. It was truly remarkable how fast men adjusted to the situation; as for women, they had no choice. And of course the long-hated phrase “Not tonight, I have a headache” very quickly vanished from the female vocabulary.

But obviously such a degrading state of affairs could not be allowed to continue. The government quickly launched the FCV Abatement Project, designed to fight the new disease.

08-25-2009, 09:57 PM
Dr. West glanced at his watch in irritation and pushed a button on the intercom. "Please page Dr. Larsen again," he said. "This meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago." The other eight team leaders were already present and waiting impatiently. Meetings took time away from work.

The page had just begun when the conference room door flew open and Dr. Larsen, slightly out of breath, strode in. "Sorry I'm late," he confided to West as he sat down in the seat to his right. "Nurse Neil got a sudden headache attack and needed me to...well, you know."

"OK, don't worry about it," West replied. He called the meeting to order. "First, Dr. Ross will brief us on the results of her lab trials of the Spoylphun-47 compound this month."

"Thank you," said Dr. Ross crisply, opening the folder before her. The 32-year-old virologist, a prodigy in her field, was slim and attractive with shoulder-length dark hair; she had been one of the first scientists to request assignment to the FCV Abatement Project when it was initially launched. "My results show that Spoylphun-47 does slow the replication of FCV in vitro by about 40%, though its effectiveness tends to diminish after about a week. I think adjusting the amino-acid content could increase its strength. I'd like to start testing variants Spoylphun-47A through 47G next month."

"Good work," West said. "Dr. Lee, can we start right away on getting those variants synthesized?"

"Amino-acid work is still a problem," Lee replied, shaking his head. "The equipment I'm working with isn't really geared for it. Until we get those purchase orders approved that we discussed last month --"

"Not another delay!" Dr. Ross groaned.

"Please, Dr. Ross," West said. "We're all doing the best we can. We have to do everything by the book and make sure our results are valid. We wouldn't want to get all excited about this and then find out it doesn't work. Remember Kyljoi-13."

"I remember," Dr. Ross said. "That was so frustrating! Kyljoi-13 seemed so promising, and then we suddenly started getting negative results....." She did not notice surreptitious glances being exchanged among a couple of the male team leaders. "Anyway, I can't understand why it takes so long to get a bunch of purchase orders OK'd. Can't we call Dr. Leperve in Paris and see if the French FCV project can synthesize the variants for us?"

"I don't think so," Dr. Larsen cut in. "The French have been running into delays of their own. So have the Russians."

"It's just one brick wall after another," Ross lamented. "In my whole career I've never been on a project where we spent this much money for a whole year and got nowhere --" She suddenly stopped with a slight gasp and clutched her head. "Oh, no!"

08-25-2009, 09:57 PM

She leaned in close and spoke in a low voice, still embarrassed and humiliated by the situation, even though this had happened any number of times during the year they had worked together on the Project. "Call a ten-minute adjournment and come with me."

West did so, then followed Ross out of the conference room and into a small unused office down the corridor. Ross locked the door while West, careful to let his face betray nothing of the anticipation he was feeling, leaned back against one wall, opened the front of his white lab coat, and unzipped his slacks. Ross got down on her knees in front of him and took out his penis, which instantly began to stiffen at the touch of her hand. She opened her mouth and took it in, and he surrendered to the pure sensation of the act -- the warmth and wetness of the inside of her mouth, the smooth massaging motions of her tongue on the ultra-sensitive underside, the passage of the circle of her lips up and down the shaft as she bobbed her head. She was very skilled at this; like all women she had had a great deal of practice over the last year or so.

West put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently through the fabric of her white lab coat. On some level he still sympathized with the humiliation of a fellow professional forced to degrade herself like this, but over the last year such distracting feelings had grown weaker and weaker in the course of countless such acts performed by Dr. Ross, other female researchers, nurses, and so on. He stroked her hair, resisting the instinctive urge to plant his hand on the back of her head as if holding her in place. Doing that always meant a chewing-out from her afterwards, and there was no need to hold her in place. A faint momentary whimper from her, doubtless in response to the steady headache, affirmed why she would be seeing the act through to the finish without any pressure from him.

She kept working at it, and West’s breathing got heavier as he felt his eruption imminent. Wanting to get the thing over with, Ross speeded up her tongue action, just the way she knew he liked right before climax. With a groan and an involuntary clenching of his hands on her shoulders, West shuddered suddenly and his phallus throbbed as the first jet of semen coursed through it and spurted out inside her mouth. He felt the motion of her tongue change as she frantically gulped the stuff down. Another, weaker jet of his essence followed, and another, until his climax gradually subsided. Swallowing again, Ross slowly pulled her head back, letting his softening male organ hang free.

“Are you all right?” West asked, zipping up his slacks.

“I’m OK.” She stood up, avoiding meeting his eyes. It was clear that the headache was gone.

08-25-2009, 09:57 PM
That day Drs. West, Larsen, and Lee had lunch together.

“How was she?” Larsen asked West.

“Better than ever,” West replied. “She’s gotten really good at that.”

“So’s my wife,” Lee mused. “It’s incredible. And of course in the old days she would never swallow, but now.....”

“That Spoylphun-47 could be a problem,” Larsen said. “One of the guys on Ross’s team told me those variants look really promising against FCV.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lee told him.. “By the time she gets those variants to work on, I’ll have figured out how to neutralize the amino acids in them. That’s what Shisaktmiyoff and Svalomakumsky did last month when the Russian project started testing Spoylphun-47 variants. It’ll be just another dead end like Kyljoi-13 was.”

“Yeah, thank God we managed to fix that one,” West agreed.

“I got a letter from my son at college yesterday,” Larsen said. “He’s been there less than three weeks and already he’s had to.....you know.....for nine co-eds and two really hot professors. He said one of the co-eds was a Japanese exchange student, and she made it so good that when he came he thought he was going to pass out.

“Couldn’t have been any better than the blonde in the denim shorts who came after me in the park last Sunday,“ West observed.

There was a pause.

“Dammit, we’ve all died and gone to Heaven, haven’t we?” Larsen said. “Every man on Earth.”

“Don’t even say that!” barked West in mock alarm. “Who wants to go to Heaven? Even Heaven couldn’t possibly be this good!”

“Amen to that,” Lee agreed fervently.

And for the hundredth time, they offered silent thanks to the unknown geniuses who had given this blessing to the world.

08-25-2009, 09:59 PM

Cheers from Collesfracture