Brooke
glanced up once more at the ads on the bus. They had caused no end of
mirth when they first came out, but people snuck glances at them now,
and the smiles had gone. You could see some people getting quiet and
thoughtful when they stopped to take them in.
One showed an
attractive woman looking at a pretty schlumpy-looking middle-aged guy.
"You wouldn't want to marry him, but he might be the one!" The thought
bubble in her mind showed a picture of her holding a gorgeous infant,
showing the age-old bond of love between mother and child. Brooke felt
a pang in her heart looking at that baby.
Another showed a
handsome man looking at a kind of pudgy woman with glasses, an average
face and a studious expression. This one showed in the man's mind a
picture in the gray of a dim room with her laid out on a bed, looking
hungrily and expectantly at him. Her breast showed and she had her
hands between her legs, presumably holding her pussy open for him to
stick his dick in. It was pretty explicit, thought Brooke, but at least
her pussy and the guy's dick didn't actually show. The caption read,
"Remember this part? She wants it! No strings attached! Ask her!"
Another showed a smiling but plain-looking woman examining her palm
pilot as a not-very-attractive guy looked on. "Make that one-night
stand count! Choose the right time of month!" Another showed a woman
lying back with her legs crossed in an opulent room. She was holding up
a little girl's dress and looking at it with a smile. "No worries about
money again! Free childcare!" The one that had caused the most
controversy showed a woman in a dimly lit room with her butt up in the
air. A man behind had his hands on her hips, obviously doing her doggy
style. She held a vibrator up between her legs and was obviously in the
throes of orgasm. In abstract view it showed another man with a smile,
his hand surrounding his erect dick so you couldn't quite see it,
getting ready for his turn. Another showed a man on his back with a
vague grin on his face, a man who had presumably just done her. The
caption read: "Forget what your mother said. It's what your body was
meant to do! Become a connoisseur of men's organs! Of the different
sounds they make when they give you their gift! It feels really good!
Choose the reasons you like, but when that time of month comes, be a
heroine!" And in another panel it showed the woman with a cute baby,
surrounded by fawning, happy men and women. To be a slut was now
patriotic.
She had always assumed she would get married, but her
dating life had not been promising lately. She enjoyed the times she
spent with her current boyfriend Hal, but she thought of it as a
pleasant interlude only.
She also knew she wanted a baby. And
those posters showed how to get a baby -- if you were lucky. The sooner
she started, the better her chances.
Stan
was a little nervous when he knocked on Brooke's cubicle door. They
worked together in the call center. He had asked her out a year before,
and she had politely put him off. But this was different.
"Hey, Brooke."
"Hi, Stan."
"Ummm. I was wondering. You know all those ads on the buses?"
A
little surge of fear and excitement raced through Brooke. He was
probably going to be the first one to ask to fuck her. Not date her,
fuck her. That was the right term. It's what she really ought to be
doing, letting him fuck her. So she gave him an uncertain smile.
"Yes..."
He blurted out, "I'll do you if you'd like. Just sex, nothing more."
After a pause, "It's patriotic!" he added nervously.
He
was crude and could be sarcastic. But his body made sperm cells. They
might be the right ones. He was actually decent looking, so the
physical act might be exciting.
"Sure," she said. Listening to
herself she realized she didn't sound enthusiastic, and she noted she
would have to work on that in the future. She didn't want to hurt a
guy's feelings when he was being patriotic.
"Great! How would next Wednesday be?"
"Ummm. It's got to be a particular time of month, right?"
"Right, damn, I forgot. This whole thing is weird."
On
a whim she decided to be a bit playful. "If we do it some other time,
then it's not the new kind of 'just sex', it's the old kind of 'just
sex'."
He smiled a little.
"It will be about two weeks,"
she said as Stan was walking away with a grin on his face. Brooke
reflected that if he bothered to do subtraction Stan now knew that she
was having her period. Oh great. Well, in two weeks he would learn
about her reproductive system in a much more intimate way. She figured
she would buy one of those thermometers to track ovulation. Might as
well get the timing right if she was going to start spreading her legs.
As
long as she was in slut mode, she figured she would use the momentum to
ask a guy. She felt almost numb with nervousness when she went around
the corner to Bob's cube. Despite herself, she couldn't help coloring
when she said, "Hey Bob, will you fuck me in two weeks? Do your duty to
humanity?"
Bob stammered. "Oh, Gee."
Was it surprise, or did he not want to do her? It would be really
humiliating to think a guy didn't want to fuck her.
"Umm, sure! You just took me by surprise."
"Remember what it says on the poster, it still feels good even if I'm a
dog," she said.
"You are not a dog!" he said, a little too loudly. There were a few
suppressed giggles and snorts from nearby cubes.
They were both flustered. That comment didn't reflect well on either of
them.
"About two weeks. I'll tell you exactly when."
Brooke appeared at Stan's cubicle door in just twelve days. His heart
surged when he saw her.
"I
guess I'm supposed to show you this," she said, handing him a little
slip with the date and a stamp saying "Clean!" It was from one of the
free STD kits. He smiled and said he would bring his own that evening.
They agreed she would come to his place at six.
"Can I get you a Coke or something?"
"Thanks, but I don't have long." She was due at Bob's at 7:30. A slut.
"Oh,
OK," he said. He led the way back to his bedroom, and seeing no other
signals from each other they stripped, instinctively turning away from
each other. She lay on the bed and on instinct pulled a sheet over her
to hide her nakedness. Would he find her body acceptable? Odds were
that since he asked her out way back when he thought she was
attractive, but all women are insecure about these things deep down. As
he turned she could see he was mostly erect already. An average-looking
cock. Not that she really knew. She had had a total of four lovers up
to this point in her life. By this evening it would be six.
An
image flashed through her mind of an endless series of cocks. If she
stayed with the program, her total of lovers -- or at least men who
shoved their cocks into her -- would increase rapidly for years. She
saw a graph with an arrow pointing up at an angle -- Ooo, very
Freudian, she thought.
Brooke was on the slender side, but she
thought her hips were too big. She had long dark hair, a round face
with a straight nose of moderate size and warm brown eyes. As he raised
the sheet to slide in next to her, Stan glimpsed what she usually kept
in her bra. They were luscious, with pale pink aureoles and modest
nipples that were at the moment small. He could see her nakedness
trailing away beneath the sheet, but didn't want to stare. His erection
got even harder.
She put her hand between her legs and started massaging to get herself
ready.
After a few seconds he said, "Can I do some of that?" leering a bit. Or
was it just honest desire?
"OK,
you can try," she said. She hadn't really been planning on letting him
do that, but the boundaries of 'just sex' were unclear.
He was
good. It wasn't the way she usually did it, but in less than a minute
her body caught onto his rhythm and she felt really good.
"Am I allowed to, uh, suck your nipples?" he asked.
She
hadn't been planning on allowing that either, but now she had to admit
she was excited by the idea. He used a technique she had never
experienced before, sucking in little bursts, resting between.
Something about it felt profoundly right. The juices flowed freely in
and all around her pussy, the entire area engorged and quivering.
"OK, I'm ready," she said, trying not to sound quite as hungry as she
felt.
He
rose above her and he let her guide him into her. His body was quite
impressive, with rippling arm muscles and a six-pack that was now in
evidence as he started in and out at a very nice pace. He had a grin
more of conquest than tenderness, but ... well, she didn't need
tenderness, not for this.
His cock was apparently longer than
any of her other lovers', because she felt it bump something way in
deep, and it felt good. The bumping against her swollen clit and the
spot deep inside were like stereo.
This was 'just sex', but it
was feeling terrific and she let herself go, panting and moaning. She
was on the edge. "A little faster," she gasped. He sped up. Her girl
animal took in the boy animal's muscled body and deep-throated grunts
and face slack with pleasure. She felt his throbbing member filling her
and pressing that newly discovered inner part of herself. All that
combined with the clit bumping and labial tugging was enough. Her body
convulsed with pleasure and release as she gasped. A second later she
felt his cock get even bigger and then felt it twitch and knew that at
that moment his sperm was shooting into her. Stan's convulsion inside
her extended her orgasm. He stayed inside her until she was on firm
ground again, then pulled out and lay panting beside her.
It had been the best sex of her life. By far.
No
protocol existed in the new regime of 'just sex' to calculate the
appropriate duration of afterglow, but she decided not to worry about
it. She let herself relax snuggled up against him.
She started
awake as Stan whispered, "Did you say you were meeting a guy at 7:30?"
The clock showed 7:25. Stan was considerate to remind her of her
commitments. Maybe she had misjudged him.
She didn't want to go
-- she wanted Stan again. So maybe she would be a little late to Bob's.
She slid her hand down to Stan's cock, and within a few seconds he was
fully hard again, and his body language confirmed that he was eager to
do it again. She was still pretty wet from before, but his fingers did
their magic to juice her fully.
She said, "I guess this is the old kind of 'just sex' now, not the new
kind, but it's still 'just sex', OK?"
Stan
grinned. She rolled onto her back and he slid in and pounded away. This
time he gently lifted her legs up and she held his head between her
calves. She had a slightly different but equally magnificent orgasm.
She liked the idea of Stan's sperm up inside her on her fertile day
when they just might make a baby, however unlikely that was.
But
the other man waited, so she sighed wearily as she got up and dressed.
As for Hal, her boyfriend, she couldn't see any point in their staying
together any more. It felt like an afterthought.
"Any chance
you'd like to do it again some time?" Stan asked. She couldn't help
giving him a flirty smile. She had this sneaking suspicion she would
want to do it again with Stan. Maybe a lot.
Obstetric
practices noticed it first. Starting in April of 2028 women stopped
calling. They stopped calling because they weren't getting pregnant.
Even in parts of the world that do not have obstetric practices the
same phenomenon was clear -- women didn't miss their periods.
It
was obvious that without pregnancies the human species was doomed, but
there were reasons not to panic. Science was very good at solving
medical problems, and the pregnancies might just resume on their own.
What
scientists found was essentially nothing. There were no detectable
changes in the reproductive process, whether looking at men's bodies,
women's bodies, their tissues, or their cells. The problem was simply
that the sperm wiggled against the eggs, but the eggs never let them in.
One
hopeful sign was that there still were occasionally women who got
pregnant. There was fewer than one pregnancy for every 100 there had
been before, but there were still a few.
In contrast, no one
observed a single fertilized egg in a test tube, and artificial
insemination produced a grand total of zero pregnancies.
Investigation focused on what factors were responsible for the very few
pregnancies that did occur.
As
expected, the more often a woman had sexual intercourse during her
fertile period, the more likely she was to become pregnant.
They
also found that a variety of different partners led to a much higher
pregnancy rate. The effect was far larger than could be explained as
compensating for occasional male infertility.
An unexpected and
disturbing finding was that rape was slightly more likely to lead to a
pregnancy than an ordinary act of intercourse. It was a small effect,
and government reports always equivocated. The authorities said that
different and unusual acts of intercourse were more likely to result in
pregnancy, and that rape was just a special case of an unusual and
different act of intercourse.
As time went on and there was no
medical solution and few promising avenues of research, the gravity of
the situation began to sink in. Anger and fear were loud, while despair
and resignation were quiet but just as powerful.
Before six
months had passed there was a noticeable increase in pregnancy which
the scientists determined was simply the result of couples shifting
from trying to prevent pregnancies to trying to achieve them.
Contraception use plummeted, more couples had sex, and there was an
effort to time the intercourse to the woman's fertile period. But the
increase was small. Extrapolating the observed trends, the scientists
estimated that pregnancies might reach one and a half percent of the
pre-crisis levels. Just trying harder to make babies in the usual
manner was not going to solve the problem.
The most promising
opportunity for increased fertility was in increasing the variety of
sexual partners. Promiscuity. There was a bit more sleeping around when
people learned that it helped, but not very much. Promiscuity within a
committed relationship when trying to achieve pregnancy is very
unusual.
The government set in motion a number of initiatives
to encourage more sleeping around, especially by women during their
fertile period.
The production capacity for ovulation-detection
kits was increased. Better and easier-to-use models were developed, and
they were offered for free. If a woman was going to take another sexual
partner outside of her relationship, it ought to be done at a time when
it might matter.
Sexually transmitted diseases promised to be a
huge problem. Condoms were of no use because the idea was to deliver
semen into vaginas, not keep it carefully confined and drag it back out.
There
was a huge effort put into STD detection. Better kits were invented,
ones that did not require lab work, and they were made available
everywhere, for free.
But by far the best solution to the STD
problem was the Sykes polymer. When applied monthly to the penis it
completely prevented female to male STD transmission, and unlike the
condom it enhanced male sexual pleasure instead of diminishing it.
There
was some indignation that this solution protected men but not women.
But most people came to understand that when men were not getting
re-infected and were then aggressively treated, women stopped getting
re-infected too. The polymer was of course made available for free and
its use encouraged.
A great many people have no interest in
making babies and are content to remain childless. To encourage them to
get involved, financial incentives were offered. The government could
easily afford to offer $50,000 per live birth.
It took two years
before the ads that Brooke saw on the bus were created. Despite a huge
controversy, the decision was made to push them heavily. They showed up
everywhere: buses, magazines, websites, billboards, and TV shows.
It
had been no easy matter for Brooke to get herself to sleep with Stan
and Bob. As Brooke arranged her liaisons, much of the anxiety of the
human mating dance remained. Did Bob find Brooke attractive? He had
accepted, but was he just saving her the pain of rejection? Stan had
also asked Melissa if she wanted to sleep with him. Although she did
her best to be polite, she turned him down, to Stan's dismay. And
ideally Brooke should have had sex with five men during her fertile
phase, not just two. For best results, while she repeated the
exhausting ordeal the next month it should be with five different men,
not the same five.
Brooke was attractive and reasonably self-assured. It was far, far
harder for many others.
Sabrina was at the supermarket looking over the fish when her cell
phone rang.
"Yes?" she said.
"We
have a mate for you." A little twinge of fear surged through Sabrina.
She had notified the switchboard that morning when her ovulation test
was positive. Last month five men had come to her house in the evening
and she had had sex with all of them. It was a surreal memory, and she
was preparing herself for the same sort of evening. But why was she
being called in the grocery store?
"Now?"
"Yes. Remember,
we're trying to shake things up. Try to spice things up to get that
rape effect without the rape. When he shows up, go into the back and
find some
place to have sex, OK?"
"Are you kidding?"
"No." She knew this sort of thing was possible. They had discussed it
during orientation. But the back of a grocery store?
Just
then someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to find a man,
maybe 5'8" tall, with a shaved head, an ample belly, and a number of
tattoos on his bare arms. At least his smile was friendly. Sabrina was
5'6", 38 years old, and not physically remarkable. She had
shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes.
She tried to hide her
dismay. Perhaps sensing it, he recited the mantra of the program, the
first line of defense against awkwardness: "We're just trying to make a
baby."
"We're just trying to make a baby," she repeated, managing a smile.
"In
the back of the store," he said, heading towards the hanging plastic
strips that defined the border that customers were not supposed to
cross. She followed.
"How are we supposed to find any privacy back here?" she asked.
He
was looking around actively. He found the employee bathroom, and looked
uncertainly into it. She only needed one glance before saying, "I don't
think so," and they continued their search.
He pointed to the back of an aisle that was out of the way and motioned
her to follow.
"Not
in public," she said. The program encouraged couples to not worry about
being seen, figuring that a little exhibitionism might help with
pregnancies too. But she wasn't ready for that.
"Hold on," he
said. He took down a few cartons holding breakfast cereal boxes and
built a sort of makeshift wall they could go behind. At least no one
would see them unless they actually went down the aisle to investigate.
But how would they actually do it? The floor was not appealing, nor was
doing it against the wall. He brought down one more box, this one
holding Wheaties, an odd fact that stuck with her. He placed it behind
their little wall. "Bend over?" he said.
He was proposing to
take her from behind as she leaned over a cardboard box, behind a
makeshift wall of cardboard boxes behind the scenes in a grocery store.
"I want a baby," she said to herself. The unusual was supposed to help.
She took a deep breath and said, "OK."
He pulled pants and
underpants down to reveal a cock which was not flaccid but not hard
either. He started stroking it. Sabrina decided she could keep her
skirt on if she stepped out of her panties. She opened her purse and
took out the vibrator, then reached up under her skirt and applied it.
She felt her vulva swelling, her pussy lengthening, and felt herself
getting wet.
He was stroking away, but his erection wasn't there
yet. She smiled at him in encouragement. Procedure here encouraged her
to give him some head, but there were other things to try first. She
gently took the end of his cock in one hand and with the other applied
her own vibrator not directly to his cock but to her hand as it cradled
his tip. That did the trick and soon she had a hard member in her hand.
He smiled and said, "Thanks."
Sabrina leaned over the box and
flipped her skirt up. He came up behind her and spread her pussy lips
-- too hard, it hurt a little -- and plunged in. She wasn't terribly
wet, but it wasn't going to hurt. He thrust back and forth fast and
hard. She heard footsteps coming down the aisle, and said "Shit!" but
he didn't stop and she didn't want to fight with him. "I want a baby,"
she said to herself.
In about 30 seconds he dug his fingernails
into her butt (ouch!), slowed his pace just a touch and did a couple
really deep strokes with a big grunt. That was what the whole thing was
about, getting his sperm up her pussy. Just as he pulled out she heard
snickering and quickly flipped her skirt down, feeling mortified. A
young guy had come to see why the boxes weren't on the shelves any more
and had watched the end of their coupling. The guy with the tattoo gave
him the finger along with a menacing look and the kid quickly
disappeared. She felt hot from shame and embarrassment, but repeated to
herself, "I want a baby." When they had both dressed he started putting
the boxes up on the shelves where they had come from. She did one
herself.
"Thanks for trying to make a baby," she said.
"Thanks for trying to make a baby," he repeated.
He
headed one way and she returned to her cart in front of the fish, aware
of her engorged sex organs and the semen that was dripping out onto her
panties.
"A pound of haddock, please," she said, taking a deep breath.
Frank
took his place at the podium. The lecture hall at the Center For
Disease Control was packed. The lights dimmed as his first slide came
up. After some preliminaries he got to the meat of his talk.
"Today
I present the results of the first Systematic Mandated Pairings
experiment, called 'SMP'. We found 273 young women and 324 young men to
take part in the experiment. They were volunteers but were aware they
would be receiving $5,000 if they carried out all of the matings that
were suggested to them, though they were allowed to miss a few. A total
of 262 young women and 287 young men completed the entire eighteen
months of the study.
"The young women used their ovulation kits,
and 85% of the time they reported the beginning of their fertile
periods accurately. This number is not bad, but clearly there is room
for improvement. Dr. Fitzhugh's work on detecting ovulation
automatically by way of a sensor probe inserted into the hypothalamus
could be very helpful in improving that statistic.
"The computer
model we had was quite simple. We tried to get as many different
male-female matings as we could over the eighteen months of the study.
Hired staff manned the cell phones to direct the men and women to their
matings.
"Having screened the applicants for basic
attractiveness, both partners attempted 94% of the suggested matings.
Male performance difficulties reduced the number of successful
intra-vaginal ejaculations to 88%. Overall, these women received on
average 3.8 intra-vaginal ejaculations per fertile period.
"The
bottom line number, of course, is how many pregnancies were achieved.
The answer is 12." An excited murmur rippled through the audience. "Ten
of those babies have now been born, and the other two are due within
the next two months.
"Those results are quite promising. The
next question on everyone's minds is what characterized the successful
matings. As you all know, it is very hard to find anything definitive
with a mere 12 data points. But if we rate the circumstances of matings
on a 'novelty' scale, then novel situations seem to be associated with
more pregnancies, but the difference is not statistically significant
(p < .30).
"While twelve pregnancies is excellent,
consideration of the personal situations of our volunteers paints a
more sobering picture. Three married couples were in our SMP study, and
those marriages show no signs of undue distress. Eleven married men
participated without their wives. Two now report marital difficulties.
Four married women volunteered for the study without their husbands.
One dropped out, and two of the remaining three report that they are
headed for divorce. Setting aside cases where the husband volunteered
for the program himself, that leaves a single married woman who
participated in the SMP experiment and whose marriage survived.
"The
evidence is anecdotal. But it is easy to speculate that we are running
up against a fundamental social limitation: Women cannot both remain in
a closely bonded relationship and engage in the systematic and frequent
promiscuity that is the key to successful reproduction."
Malcolm Smith was the President of the Mormon Church, and he was now
granting an audience to Xavier Chen.
He
had read the executive summary of the report with skepticism, but
somehow this young man's passion was getting through to him.
"To
summarize, sir: Without another major breakthrough, humanity is heading
for extinction. Literal, total, biological extinction." Xavier's face
as he delivered those words jolted Smith.
"There are liberals
and libertarians who are engaging in the sort of rampant promiscuity
that gives the best pregnancy rates we have observed anywhere. These
are precisely the people that the conservative churches have reviled
for so long.
"What we need -- what humanity needs -- is a church
that is known for its social conservatism to come out in favor of the
rampant promiscuity needed for an adequate pregnancy rate." Smith
wasn't sure of much in this whole matter, but he was certain that a
better phrase than "rampant promiscuity" would be needed to describe
the salvation of humanity.
"Mormonism is a unique combination.
You have a fierce commitment to family and children. A graying Mormon
faith without children is no longer a Mormon church." Once again Chen's
delivery hit Smith at a deeper level.
"A great many Mormons
follow church teachings, even when they are inconvenient." Smith
thought again of the despair of his years on his Mission, a despair
that was so common to the young men.
"And you, sir," said
Xavier, pointing at Smith in a way that he would ordinarily consider
impertinent, "can receive messages from God that influence how millions
will behave."
"You, sir, may be the single person who holds the
fate of all of humanity in his hands." Xavier's eyes burned. The young
man looked at first one hand, "Extinction," and then the other, "or
Survival".
Smith lay awake that night. Although he was now the
head of the church, he had never expected to receive any revelations
from God. The closest thing he had to visions was images of
ten-year-old boys with their pants down, visions accompanied by impure
thoughts. To his consternation, regret flickered through his head that
he would never see such a thing -- those Catholics, sigh.
Xavier
wanted Smith to say that rampant promiscuity -- OK, let's work on that.
How about "many-fold love for God's creation"? Xavier wanted Smith to
say that many-fold love for God's creation was a good thing.
He
thought long and hard. It would ruin his reputation. He might well be
forced from his position. He had gotten where he was by working the
system, playing politics, playing it safe. It would surely cause
upheaval in the church. But that image of graying Mormon communities
without children made him shudder.
As he was just drifting off
to sleep a thought flashed to his mind. Xavier might be an emissary
from the divine! Smith thought of the way his eyes burned, the way he
spoke insolently but Smith had found himself captivated. It was
probably an illusion, his everyday self cautioned. But as Xavier's face
conveyed as much as his words, without radical measures humanity was
doomed. It was time for a leap of faith.
Smith clenched his one hand, then let it relax and clenched the other.
"Survival," he said.
Smith's
decision was of monumental importance. In later years scholars wrote
bookshelves full of analyses and speculation. Just as Jesus the Jew
gave rise to the far more influential Christianity, Smith of the Latter
Day Saints would be granted nearly divine stature in the Church of
Survival.
Smith's impure thoughts about young boys surfaced in
hints in the journals published 50 years after his death. Scholars
speculated that those impure thoughts tipped the balance away from
rigid morality to sexuality, to forgiveness of sexual trespass, and to
life itself.
While
there was turmoil and a schism, 68% of Mormons followed Smith's lead.
Women and girls gritted their teeth as they raised their skirts to
strange men in God's name. Men gnashed their teeth and shuddered as
they considered this abomination against their womenfolk -- an
abomination that God had ordered. They also experienced it directly
with different emotions, since they were the ones poking inside the
panties of other men's daughters and wives.
As Xavier had
foreseen, the shift in the Mormon church sent shock waves throughout
the conservative religions. There were schisms everywhere. For at least
a sizeable minority in every denomination, "Be fruitful and multiply"
won out over "Thou shalt not commit adultery."
Denominations
formed their own SMP programs. Different rules for how to match
partners yielded different degrees of effectiveness. That in turn
provided data for better ways to arrange future programs.
Every city in the country had at least one SMP program, although a tiny
fraction of the population was enrolled.
It was Xavier who had been chosen to address the Congressional
committee. He was the most charismatic of the radicals.
"It
has been six years since the pregnancy crisis began. Time is running
short for the human species. We might in theory have another 10 or even
20 years, but remember that no one expects any particular step to solve
the problem instantly. We are still on a slow, agonizing path. But we
need to take the next step. We have a ditch to cross, and it will
require a leap.
"Last month the last doubt was removed and a
strong hypothesis became irrefutable fact: The higher the percentage of
people in a city or town who are participating in a Systematic Mandated
Pairing (SMP) program, the higher the pregnancy rate.
"What we
need is an enclave where everyone -- 100% -- are participating in the
program. And 'enclave' isn't the right term. It has to have a critical
mass -- 100,000 people is a minimum."
"We need a safe haven
where participants can be open and proud about their choice without the
fear of disapproval, harassment, or even violence.
"Coercion to
have sex within an SMP program is of course unthinkable." Though
ultimately, Xavier reflected, I would support it. Will I be here in 10
years making exactly that case?
"People will be free to leave
the city, of course. But having made the choice to join, the decision
to leave will not be made lightly. Social pressure within the city will
tilt in favor of staying in the program and the material benefits will
be substantial. We want to give people every opportunity to work
through an initial adjustment period and come out the other end
committed to the SMP program -- to survival!
"The major city
with the highest SMP participation rate is Salt Lake. Malcolm Smith's
historic revelation has led a large percentage of Mormons to
participate, and the momentum has attracted and convinced others. 38
percent of the city residents participate."
He paused and shifted his tone.
"The transformation of Salt Lake will be profound."
"We
will require any people who do not participate in the program to leave
and we will take their homes by eminent domain. They will be very
generously compensated. Nonetheless, this is by far the most difficult
and controversial step we are proposing.
"All those homes will
be occupied by those many people throughout the nation who want to
participate in this grand new experiment.
"Agreeing to the
transformation of Salt Lake City is a politically difficult step. It is
the most difficult step a politician has ever been called upon to take.
But consider your place in the history books -- oh, but wait! If you
stick with business as usual, there will be no history books. There
will be no one in 100 years to read the books. We will be extinct."
A momentary eerie silence descended upon the committee chamber.
============================================================
Salt Lake City
The
last of the property has been taken by eminent domain. The last
die-hards have had their hands pried from their front doors and been
dragged away. They have been offered plenty of money to afford
comfortable accommodations in other cities. The immigrants have poured
in to occupy those homes.
The last of the protesters are gone
from the city, and the guarded perimeter is in place. Protests still
occur, but not in the view of Salt Lake residents.
Forty-four
percent of the city's population elected to stay. The selection process
took into consideration some variables related directly to the SMP
program. Not surprisingly, more men than women were interested in a
life of brief sexual encounters, so the excess men were turned away.
Married couples were highly prized. Marital bonds will feel stress, so
couples who volunteered are a vital bulwark in maintaining the
institution of marriage. The most coveted of applicants were married
couples with children who would come of age in the new environment --
especially daughters.
There are no potholes. There is fresh
paint everywhere. Rent, groceries, and other necessities are heavily
subsidized. Jobs are plentiful. There is comprehensive and enlightened
childcare available, and although there are few babies now the system
is geared for rapid expansion. Because there were far more applicants
for immigration than spaces, the new residents are predominantly
energetic, enthusiastic people with a positive outlook on life.
There
is one price everyone in the city has agreed to pay: when the central
authority tells them where to go and who to mate with, they go and they
mate, at least most of the time.
Technology has been at work.
Instead of the cell phones used in earlier SMP experiments, each person
wears a dedicated device behind their left ear. It is called a
Reproductive Assistive Device, or RAD for short. All the residents of
Salt Lake City are encouraged to wear them, even the old women who are
past their childbearing years. It is a symbol of allegiance to the
noble project of the city.
The banks of volunteers manning cell
phones have been replaced by a single seamless computer network.
Unprecedented breakthroughs in artificial intelligence have created a
very impressive system. The RADs offer to their wearers far more than
instructions on who to mate with.
Potentially the biggest payoff
of the sophisticated computer network and its RADs is that they allow a
massive scientific experiment that could allow for further dramatic
increases in fertility.
It has been known from the beginning
that unusual sexual practices -- including, to everyone's
consternation, rape -- are associated with higher fertility. With the
ability to dictate matings not only of particular males and females but
the particular circumstances of those matings, enormous amounts of
high-quality data will be available. Hypotheses can be generated,
tested, and refined, and then results can guide new experiments as part
of an iterative cycle.
Gerald's RAD spoke, "She's behind the next big tree."
Helen's
said, "Panties and jeans down, get on your hands and knees, please."
Helen sighed. This was not her favorite position. Especially kneeling
on dirt and pine needles. "Now please rub yourself to achieve
lubrication." Gerald approached and they exchanged the briefest
greetings. It didn't take Helen long to get lubricated, because she had
already taken three loads of semen up her cunt that day from other men.
Gerald's cock hardened quickly watching Helen massage herself. When she
was ready she nodded to him.
Gerald's RAD spoke, "I think you know what to do."
"Yes, RAD, I think I do," he said, grinning.
Gerald
knelt behind her and slid his organ up inside her. He humped away
happily for a minute or two, stirring the semen from the other men as
he thrust, then lunged up inside her and held himself deep during his
ecstasy as he added his own sperm to the mix. As his pleasure faded, he
pulled out and after a moment to recover from his orgasm he stood.
Helen took the hand he offered to help her up. They stole an occasional
glance but parted with a muttered "bye" and "see you".
It was one of the computer-generated matings of the new Salt lake City.
Not romantic, but practical and matter-of-fact.
---------------------------------------------------------
Lori and Stephan
June 3rd
Dear Stephan,
The
weather here in Salt Lake is magnificent. The skies are clear the air
is pleasant and dry. It's now 43 days since I left. So far I've been
able to write every day, but will you forgive me if I miss one some
time? I miss you every day. I beg you once again to reconsider. Let me
go over our argument again. I want a child. I want a child so badly
that I am willing to have sex with a half dozen different men during my
time when it rolls around once a month. When I lie down at night,
though, I want to lie down next to you. I want to make love to you. I
want to cook for you, to read the paper with you, to take those
romantic weekend getaways (here, by the way, those weekend getaways are
virtually free). If I do conceive a child, I want to raise him with
you. I want you to be his daddy. You always wanted to be a daddy.
All my love, Lori
June 4th
Dear Stephan,
Carl
asked me to go out with him. He was one of my sex partners last month.
I turned him down politely because I am waiting for you to join me. I
miss you so much. I cry myself to sleep at night.
All my love,
Lori
June 5th
Dear Stephan,
It
was my day today. I am very tired but I am making myself write you
anyway because I love you. What is it like? Well, lots of sex, of
course. Two doggy style today, two missionary, and two in the dark. One
of them told me nasty things the whole time. Do I think of you every
time? No. I don't think you'd believe me if I lied that way. They have
nice bodies. Some of them are handsome. They pump their sperm into me.
I let them do it because I want a baby. Our baby. They wouldn't be your
genes, but it would still be your baby.
All my love,
Lori
June 6th
Dear Stephan,
Have
you ever thought of your side of it? You get to, well, I'm
uncomfortable using the word, but I know you like it. You get to FUCK a
new woman every couple days. You get to FUCK her like there is no
tomorrow. A lot of these guys don't pretend to make love to me. They
FUCK me, and I can see that to them I am just a CUNT, nothing more. A
warm, wet place to CUM. I'm hoping they can give me a baby. It's
nothing like what we do together. But you can go FUCK the other women,
shoot CUM into their CUNTS, then come back and make love with me.
All my love,
Lori
July 4th
Dear Stephan,
I
missed writing you a letter yesterday. The first day I've missed since
I've been here. Will you forgive me? It's just that it was my time
yesterday, and it was really exhausting. And something happened that
was interesting -- I hope you find it more than interesting. I hope it
gives you a hard one and makes you think how you'd like to be here.
I
was with a man but also a married couple. The man was for the wife and
the husband was for me. That's where the first ejaculations happened,
anyway, the big ones. We did lots of other stuff too. When the husband
was doing me, his wife was there first, all over his body. She's the
one who held my labia, I mean my CUNT, open while he slid in. She told
him how much she wanted him to FUCK me and CUM inside me. She kissed
him all over and stroked his balls. That man had a really happy
expression on his face when he came, and at that moment he was grinning
at me.
Later, the husband FUCKED his wife hard and fast, and
even though it was his second time he came, then he rolled off and was
panting. That's when the other man moved in. He came quietly just a few
seconds after he stuck it in. Meanwhile, the wife was gazing lovingly
at her husband while he was lost in afterglow.
Stefan, I want
that so much for us. I want you to feel me guide your COCK into another
woman's CUNT and admire you humping away and then urge you to CUM in
her CUNT. I want to feel you FUCK me sometimes, hard the way you like
it, I want that for you, and then I want to gaze into your eyes while
the other guy does his quick little breeding thing. Will you come join
me, please?
All my love,
Lori
July 5th,
Dear Stephan,
I
cried myself to sleep last night. I want you so bad. I went to the
nursery today and played with the babies. I want one of them so bad.
Come join me. We can have one too -- I hope. And don't forget me
sliding your DICK into another woman's TWAT, and telling you to FUCK
her. You can squeeze my TIT when you CUM in her, you can squeeze it so
hard it hurts me. Then FUCK me, and come home that night and FUCK me
more, and sleep with me, and then the next night FUCK me again, and the
next, and hug me, and please? Please?
All my love,
Lori
The
doorbell rang. Lori answered, and standing on the doorstep was the
answer to her prayers. She suppressed the impulse to leap into his arms
-- she knew he didn't like that. She muzzled her screams to mere
squeaks of joy, and she fought back tears.
And he was official, too. Not on some sort of visiting permit. He wore
a RAD in his left ear.
He still wasn't exactly smiling. "Doggy style, in the bathtub, right
now," Stephan said, watching her closely.
Lori
didn't hesitate, not for a millisecond. She beamed a smile and raced to
the bathroom, tugging him along. She had never let him do it like that,
ever. In the old days it had been a little festering sore with them. A
contest of wills. And now she didn't hesitate, not for a moment. He
thought if she would do that, she must really want him back. Yet she
had been getting fucked so many different ways that her aversion to
doggy style in the bathtub had vanished long before.
The truth
was, he loved Lori very much and had missed her terribly when she was
gone. She had gotten her way, getting him to move to Salt Lake. But
then she had managed to make some concessions to him too -- ones she
never would have made before. Fucking all those other babes later --
that would be great too.
He didn't know how much her RAD had helped her devise and carry out her
plan to get him back.
Lori
and Stephan wouldn't get to do too many of their matings together in
the way Lori had described in her letter; that was kind of like an
introductory rate on a credit card. But he would adapt.