The three men who sat around the coffe table did not look like conspirators; they looked like nerds. One was a professor, two were grad students. The professor was impatient. "Where is John? I hate it when he's late," he complained. One of the grads tried to calm him. "Relax, Bill, you know John. He's probably had another brainstorm and is slaving over a hot simulation." "We are done with simulations. It's time to act--or not act. That's what tonight is about." The professor was one of the most eminent virologists in the world. His name was prominently mentioned whenever the Nobel prize was mentioned. One of the grad students was a brilliant geneticist; the other a top- notch computer scientist. And the missing man was probably the foremost nanotechnologist in the world. At last, the fourth, John, arrived. "Sorry I'm late. I had to wrap up something...." "As usual," Bill said sourly. "Allright. Let's get to business." He looked around, fixing each man with an intense stare. He sought their eyes, as if trying to read their thoughts. It was a dramatic moment, intentionally so. "Gentlemen, when we formed this...conspiracy...over five years ago, we began working towards this day. Let me show you what we have achieved." He walked to a side table and brought back a small tray. On the tray were twelve small aerosol cans, similar to "travel size" antiperspirant sprays. "I completed the production run yesterday. The same revision level as the one we tested on Julie and Gwen. You willall recall that the results of the tests were highly successful and met all expectations. "These are the results of our efforts. The question is: shall we proceed forward and use them? It is an awesome step, a huge responsibility. If we do, we shall alter human history--and human nature--with no possibility of undoing our handiwork. We shall be reviled as monsters, as enemies of humanity...worse than Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot. So I ask you: are you confident enough of the rightness of our aim to carry it to completion? Or shall we destroy these without using them?" A long silence. Then one of the grads spoke up. "Sir, I'm in favor of proceeding. You remember when John approached us, the discussions we had? We've been all over this, many times, in the time we've been working together." John said, "I agree. We've pledged to carry out this effort. It's for the good of Mankind, even though they will not realize it. Eventually we shall be vindicated. I can live with the name-calling. I've made my peace over the human impact. It has to be done. You know that." The others agreed, each in his own way. Bill, the leader, handed three cans to each man, taking two for himself. Then he handed out airline tickets. "Paul, you've got LAX, Dallas, then Rio. Jim, Chicago, Miami, Heathrow. Sam, JFK, SFI, then Narita. I've got Seattle, Atlanta, Moscow. You all know the drill?" Assent. "All right. We'll meet here in one week. Good luck." *** Jim, one of the grad students, strolled along one of the concourses of O'Hare International. In his hand, concealed under a folded newspaper, was one of the cans. Every few moments, he released a small amount of the aerosol. Particles swirled in the air currents, carried to every part of the huge airport. Trillions of synthetic viral particles drifted, inhaled by thousands. Many of those infected boarded jets, carrying the virus to other destinations. Exhaling the virus with every breath, infecting still others unknowingly. When the can was empty, he ditched it in a trash barrel, then sat down to wait for his next flight. He knew his brothers were duplicating his actions in the major air hubs of the world. He smiled grimly. *** "Mr. President, we have a very serious problem." This was how Dr. Jensen, the President's Science Advisor, opened the meeting. "Two days ago, the FBI and NIH received the videotape you are about to be shown. We have every reason to believe it is genuine. We also have been informed that the major world governments have also received this video." He nodded, and an aide started the tape. On a blue screen, white letters appeared. "SAVE THE MALES!" said the banner. The banner held for a few seconds, dissolving to show a man at a desk. His face was shadowed; his voice distorted but understandable. "I represent the Brotherhood of Men. Three weeks ago, our agents released aerosol sprays of a tailored virus in every major airport of the world. By now the virus has spread throughout the world. Our computer projections show that the infection is nearly complete. In a few days, the first signs of the infection will become evident. "We have no demands. The result we desire will be effected by the inevitable social and political changes caused by this infection. We are men who are sickened by the rise of feminism; we have brought this un-natural abomination to an end. "Our virus is the result of years of concentrated research. There is no antidote, no cure, no vaccine. It is intensely contagious and once it has invaded the cells of the body, it cannot be removed. The virus causes irreversible and permanent changes in every female human being it infects. Men are carriers; that is, they can infect others but are not themselves affected. "The effect of our virus is simple and easy to explain. Any female over the age of five years who is infected will develop an intense biological need for male semen. Any female who fails to receive fresh semen every 72 hours will sicken and eventually die. An intense craving, an un-natural hunger, for male semen will commence once every three days. Only fresh semen will ease the symptoms; frozen or refrigerated semen must be used within eight hours of production or it will prove ineffective. Although ingestion is the most effective, any contact with semen will be sufficient to remove symptoms for 72 hours. Pregnant women will not suffer the symptoms during the term of pregnancy. "You will discover that, if a female receives her 'essence' from the same man repeatedly, she will come to 'favor' or prefer his to any other man's. She will still be able to accept sperm from any male in a pinch, but given a choice she will always return to her 'primary male supply'. If another male begins supplying her needs on a regular basis, she will gradually change her preference to favor him. We recommend a gradual replacement of one male's fluid for another, if a deliberate trade is being made. "Some of the changes that the virus will bring should be obvious. Unattractive women and lesbians will be quickly eliminated from the population. That should account for the majority of feminists. You will have to make changes in the law and customs; we'll leave those up to you. You'll really have no choice; therefore we need not enumerate the changes you'll make. "That is all. Do not try to find us; we cannot be found. You can thank us later." The tape ended. "Mr. President, I met today with Dr. Weston, the head of the Centers for Disease Control. She informed me that this tape is accurate. A sample of the virus was supplied with the tape. The virus has been isolated and is being analyzed. It has been found on every continent, and in every city in the U.S. where we have had time to look. Our estimates show that over 97% of the population has been infected." The President was visibly shaken. "A cure...vaccine...?" "No, sir. At present, we have not an inkling of any way to defeat this infection. It is only part virus. Nanotechnology has been applied. The technology is impressive; world-class. In some respects it is beyond the state of the art as it is currently known. These are half-virus, half-machine. We have no known way to respond to it. Due to the artificial component, normal immune reactions have no effect on the infection." "Have...symptoms...been reported?" "Yes, sir. Mostly on the West Coast. We speculate that the virus was released there first. There have been riots in San Francisco. We've had a news blackout since they began. "Sir, here is a tape that was taken in the infirmary of Seton Hall Women's Institute, a women's prison. This tape is classified 'Top Secret, Eyes Only'. The prison physician recorded the effect of the virus on women who could not obtain male sperm. Sir, I must warn you: it is quite gruesome." "Let me see it." It was shown him. "Good God...." The President's face was ashen. "I...feel a bit...ill...give me a moment..." "Sir, the question now is: how do we inform the public?" *** Jim and Paul, the two grad students, met for lunch. "Have you seen any of the...signs?" asked Paul. "Yeah; a couple. I figure one more day, it'll be full onset, all over campus." "Hmfff. I've got a few, uh, prospects picked out. I guess I'd better get moving." "Me, too." He grinned. "One real plus to all the late hours and pure hell we've been through: we get first pick. For a change." "Right." Paul picked up his pack. "See you later. I gotta see Jenny Chin." "The cheerleader? Wow. But leave Kathy Pitman alone. I got dibs!" *** Jennifer Chin was in her dorm room, trying to study. She was a lovely asian, with long black hair, shapely legs, and an exceptional chest for such a petite girl. She was having trouble concentrating. She felt hungry, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what she was hungry _for_. The knock on her door startled her. "Yes?" A male voice answered. "Hello? I'm doing a project, and I need subjects. Can you help me?" Jennifer looked through the peep hole. Sized him up instantly: A gangly, pimpled nerd. Harmless. She sighed and unlocked the door. She needed a diversion; studying wasn't doing any good, anyway. "All right. What kind of project?" "It's on smell. I need you to smell a few samples, and answer some questions." "How long will this take?" "Not long. Only a few samples." "OK." She let him in, and he spread several wide-mouthed vials on her desk, handing her a questionnaire and a pencil. She read the instructions. "Sniff each vial and circle the letter which corresponds best to your impression of the odor." Jennifer opened the first vial, sniffed hesitantly. She wrinkled her nose. "Yuck. Smells like old socks." She didn't see Paul quietly shut the door. She opened the second vial, raised it to her nose. Paul watched intently. Jennifer took a small sniff. Her eyes grew wide. "It's...it's...oh my God..." Now she was clutching the vial. Almost as if by its own volition, her small pink tongue emerged from her mouth. She began lapping up the fluid in the vial, totally consumed by hunger for it. She soon emptied the vial, but her tongue continued to probe the vial, seeking the smallest remaining drop. Her eyes were glazed, her expression vacant. The tongue kept up its quest for just one more drop... She was interrupted in this activity by Paul's hand on her shoulder. "Uh, Jennifer...." She looked up at him, with a confused stare. "Wha...what?..." "Would you like some more?" "More? Oh, yes!" She was _SO_ HUNGRY; she HAD to have MORE. "I have more, as much as you need." He took her hand, led her to the bed. "Here it is," he said, gently, as he unzipped his pants. *** "How'd it go? "Great. Jenny's mine; completely bound. I got two others: Terri Boyce and Lisa Lawton. I missed Anna Hinley, though; I'll get her tomorrow, with luck. How about you?" "The same. Kathy went like a stone. Then I got an idea. I went to the third-floor lounge in Kathy's dorm and opened a vial. Geez, they swarmed in there like flies; I hadda fight 'em off. By the time the frenzy was over, I had eight--or was it nine? Anyhow, three of 'em are bound; the others will have to wait 'till I can, uh, recharge." *** The man stood in a shadowed section of the sidewalk. Here they came, two innocent little schoolgirls, in identical uniforms. White blouse, short plaid skirt, white knee-socks. They looked about 12 or 13, he thought. "Excuse me, girls..." The blonde one said, "Huh? What do you want?" "Um, I have something you might like..." "Go away! We won't take anything from strangers! C'mon, Cindy, let's go; you remember what your mother told you..." "But, girls, I think you'll really LIKE this....Here it is." He opened one of the two vials he'd brought. They were already walking away, but the breeze was blowing in their direction. The red-head stopped suddenly, almost as if she'd been on the end of a leash. "Ooooh...what's THAT? It smells so _good_..." She turned and came back toward him, eyes focused on the vial. "Megan, come on! What are you _doing_?!?" "It's, -slurp-, so good!..." The blonde one returned, to try to persuade her friend. Then _she_ got a whiff. "Oooh. Can _I_ try it?" "Sure. I have one for you, too." Now both of them were eagerly lapping at the vials, literally eating out of his hand. Soon the vials were empty. The girls were dazed, still licking their lips, as he withdrew the vials. A bit unsteady on their feet, too, he noticed. "I'm afraid that's all I've got here," he told them. "But I know where you can get more..." "More?!? Where?!" "Well, if you'll just come with me, I'll take you there." They followed him eagerly, all memory of their mothers' warnings forgotten. Now all that mattered was getting more of that wonderful liquid. He grinned. Worked every time. These were the fourth and fifth in his growing little stable. Soon they'd be bound only to him; no more schoolwork for THEM, he thought... *** Joe Lohman parked his car and walked wearily to the door of his house. Inside waited his wife and two young daughters. He steeled himself, then went inside. The TV was on; there was some sort of government announcement going. He thought he heard something about "martial law". He collapsed into his easy chair and picked up the paper. Suddenly, his eight-year old daughter, Connie, was in his lap. He peered over the paper at her. She was half-naked, wearing only panties. "Connie, what are you doing running around like that?" Connie licked her lips. "Daddy...I'm...Hungry...!" "Well, Mom will have supper ready soon. Now get down." "No...I'm Hungry...for YOU...!" her tone of voice was strange, almost animal. Joe was shocked. "What on Earth?!?..." Connie lunged forward and kissed him, hungrily. Her tongue thrust into his mouth. "I...want...you...NOW!..." she growled. Her little hands were busy at his belt. In moments, she'd freed his cock and had slid downwards. Now she was licking it, moaning about her hunger and need. Stunned, for a moment Joe did nothing. He sat watching the eight-year-old work on his cock, which was firming under her efforts. "Connie! Stop this instant," he began. But suddenly she was joined by Amy, her ten-year-old sister. Now there were two girls bent on bringing him erect. It felt GOOD. He gasped, "Girls, this is wrong....what will you mother say?!..." At that moment they were joined by his normally- aloof wife, who had crawled on her hands and knees and was now caressing his balls as the little girls licked his shaft. In moments, he spurted. The three licked the come up hungrily, almost fighting over it. When he was clean, they sighed, and relaxed. "Mmmm, Daddy, that was delicious," purred Amy. "Delicious," agreed Connie. "I'm not...so HUNGRY...any more..." Joe looked at the three of them. What the hell was going on? *** "Hey, Paul!" "Oh..hello." "I haven't seen you in weeks. How've you been?" "I've been...busy..." "Yeah, me too. I've got a stable of bound girls to look after. A big responsibility." "I know. Mine's over twenty now. It's wearing me out. Need a few?" "No, thanks. Mine are all I can handle. You know, it's great watching ones like Suzy Morris trying to deal with the new situation. She -hates- me, but now she needs me to live!" "That castrating bitch. She deserves it, if ever any of them did. Me, I like having Tracy Cole under MY thumb. Remember her? A real cock- teaser. She played her games with me, time was. No more, pal, no more." "I hear you. Have you seen Professor Gilman? I never knew he had it in him!..." "Yeah; he bound three or four co-eds right away; then he did his department chair. So far, they all look healthy, so he must have _something_ left!" "And what about John? Have you seen...!" "Yup. I never woulda thought he'd go for kids. But he's got, what, ten or twelve, none older than fourteen. He's keeping them happy, too. I asked him about it; he just smiled and said, 'SOMEbody's gotta take care of the children'!" "Wow. And I hear their parents are grateful--some even brought their daughters TO him!" "Yeah; I heard the same." "All in all, I'd say it's working out pretty well." "Uh huh." *** "C'mon, Suzy, don't cry..." "I can't help it. What are we gonna _DO_?" "Nothing. There's nothing we _can_ do. They've got us. We have to have their...stuff...to live. We're just like junkies. So we just gotta learn to, you know, adapt..." "I don't want to. I'd rather die!" "Did you see what happened to Karen Clausen? _She_ tried to do without...it. God, it makes me sick just to think about it. Do you wanna have _that_ happen to _you_?" "NO. But I _might_ just jump from the bell tower...or something..." "No you won't. It's not that bad. I'm actually starting to...like...him a little. He's OK; not so awful. And we've gotta face reality: he's our...Master...now. He knows it, and so do we. If we keep him happy, we'll be OK..." "You actually _like_ him? He's a monster!" "No, he's not. Every girl has someone just like him, now, or else she's dead. And I've heard that SOME of them are really monsters. He really doesn't ask for much. I don't mind dressing like this--it shows my figure, anyhow, (along with everything else!). And so what if he makes us call him 'Master'? It's no big deal, Suzy, really..." "Maybe to you. But it makes me sick to call him that..." "If it helps us get, you know, what we need...what's so bad about it?" "Oh, god, you're doing just what they _want_. Going along. Geez, Jen, pretty soon, you'll be _happy_ with what they've done to us!" "Maybe I will. It's better than being dead." *** "You wished to see me, Master?" "You may stand, girl." "Thank you, Lord." "You'll be needing a 'booster' soon, won't you?" "Yes, Master. My last was almost 68 hours ago." "This is my friend Joe. You know him, don't you?" "Yes, Sir." "Joe and I have arranged a little trade. For the next couple of weeks, you'll be receiving your....fluid...from both of us. Today, for example, it's 80% mine and 20% Joe's. Each time, we'll increase Joe's portion and reduce mine. By the end of the second week, you'll be getting 100% Joe." He grinned. "But, Master, I love you! I don't want to, uh, take anybody else's..." "It's already decided. I'm sorry, Wendy, but you'll belong to Joe, and I will get his pretty little Leslie in return. I'm sure you'll like, uh, working for him. He's a lot like me, gentle but firm...Here's your first, um, dose..." He exchanged grins with Joe. They'd already had a similar little scene with Leslie... She was on her knees, slurping it up before he had the cap properly off. *** Two years had passed. The more thoughtful shook their heads in wonder at the changes that had happened in those years. The social disruptions had been massive. Civilization struggled to regain equilibrium; human biology had changed, and human society had to change to accomodate the new facts of life. It slowly dawned on the leaders and thinkers that the Brotherhood virus had forever changed the nature of females. No longer could 'female equality' be discussed with a straight face. The virus made females naturally inequal, dependent on males for their very lives. Sex ruled their bodies and minds; only through sexual means could they continue to live. The virus made males the Masters; women and girls the servants. Many railed against the new reality; that did not change it. Slowly, then with increasing speed, society changed to reflect the new nature of things. Nothing could prevent these changes; they were entirely logical and inevitable, given the action of the virus. Laws against rape and incest had been repealed. Child "molestation" was no longer a crime. Sexual harassment laws, while still nominally in force, were a joke. Women still had the vote, but few bothered to exercise the right. They had no time for politics; survival and the acquisition of semen were their main--their only--concerns. Prostitution was non-existent, at least the kind with female prostitutes. Women and girls dressed in a way that would have been termed "outrageous" a year ago; it was common to see young girls, as young as six or seven, wearing tiny miniskirts and see-through tops. This was considered "normal" by everyone. Crime was at a record low. Men walked around with happy expressions on their faces; adolescent boys were in Heaven. Now women were the ones who had to beg for sex and MEN controlled the supply. For the first time in human history, the supply of sex equalled the demand. The media had had a field day, at first, reporting on the extravagant impact of the virus. "MAN SERVICES UNDERAGE DAUGHTER; POLICE REFUSE TO ARREST", screamed the headlines. "SCHOOLTEACHER HELD FOR CHILD ABUSE; ALL CHARGES DROPPED!"; "WOMAN HELD IN SEX ASSAULT!"; "CHILD PORN KING ACQUITTED; 'JUST TRYING TO SAVE LIVES', HE SAYS AFTER COURT TRIUMPH"; "NATIONAL ORGANIZATION OF WOMEN DISBANDED" Shocking stories abounded. Of the young girl, whose father was out of town, who walked into the local Police station begging for sperm. A gruff Sergeant accomodated her. "I have daughters myself," he explained. "I couldn't bear to see an innocent child suffer." Later he was given a medal for meritorious service. Of the fourteen-year-old boy who collected a harem of young girls, aged ten to fifteen, dominating them totally. Of ageing wives, unable to arouse their husbands, sickening and dying in the gruesome syndrome which had so shaken the President. Of rage and revenge, as women realized they could no longer coax from their husbands the fluid they needed to live, and struck out against their indifferent spouses. "FEDS BUST COVEN OF KHOONTZES!" shouted the papers. The covens were a new phenomenon; groups of ugly, fat, or gay women who organized to abduct boys and men. The victims were held captive and forced to provide sperm for the coven. Frequently a pretty young girl was also held, to provide "encouragement" for the males to "produce". The authorities were ruthless in their treatment of such groups. Frequently they were burned at the stake and the burnings televised as a warning to others. One aspect of the virus' action was a closely-held government secret. It was discovered that the virus was slowly altering the ratio of live births. Instead of the "normal" 50/50 split, the live-birth ratio was slowly tilting towards females. Computer projections indicated that the ratio would eventually stabilize at around 10:1, that is, one male for every ten females. The virus also gave females an amazing ability to seek out sperm. Their sense of smell and taste was amplified to an incredible degree, and seemed optimized for detection of semen. Experiments showed that girls and women could detect and find small vials of fresh semen from great distances. Adolescent boys used this effect to lure girls to them, placing a small container of semen in a secluded location and waiting for the female to come seeking it. What transpired then was obvious and predictable. Families no longer protected their daughters' virginity; what was the point? And the dating scene was turned on its head, with sex the primary object for both boy and girl. The school system collapsed under the strain. Children were having sex in the hallways, with other students and with teachers. Under these conditions, male teachers could not resist the temptation posed by hordes of eager and insistent young girls. Female teachers suffered from 'unfair competition'. Over time, the schools were re-established, in a strange new form. Segregated schools were now the norm. Boys were trained in one set of schools, girls in another. In the male-only schools, the curriculum resembled that of the past, with academic subjects receiving the most attention. In the girls' schools, quite a different course of study was followed. It was reasoned that girls' survival depended on their ability to attract and satisfy a male. Therefore they were taught how to dress and act, and were given an advanced series of sex-education courses designed to enable them to extract the life-giving juice they needed so badly. If any feminists had still remained alive, they would have been shocked at the frank and explicit training given to even young girls. The girls were taught to be submissive and subservient; to obey their 'primary male' as their master and owner. Females were slipping back into the role of property, chattels to their male dominators. This was unavoidable, given the new reality imposed by the virus. In many foreign countries, the practise of female infanticide underwent a resurgence. In the U.S., unattractive or ugly girls were frequently driven into the streets by their fathers; a system of 'orphanages' was established for these unfortunates. These institutions, called "Chelsea Houses" after the extraordinarily ugly child of a past President, provided the life-giving liquid to some of the girls unable to obtain it for themselves. The sperm was provided by priests, and was extracted by pretty nuns who had dedicated themselves to this service. There was an intense controversy surrounding these houses. Some decried their existence, arguing that there was no reason to maintain defective females. Others, dismayed that they could not satisfy the demand for such shelters, argued that they were unfair to those who could not find a place within them. Yet others felt that it was cruel to maintain a "non-viable" female until age 18, when she was inevitably ejected to fend for herself, frequently with disastrous results. The courts reeled and buckled under the onslaught. Whole volumes of law were repealed or re-written. Women were no longer allowed to testify in Court; they were classed with underage children as unreliable witnesses. Too many women had been forced to perjure themselves by threats to withhold semen. And likewise, female lawyers ceased to practise. In one celebrated case, a male lawyer reduced his opponent to helplessness by opening a vial of his own fresh semen in the courtroom. The sight of this formerly-professional woman, dressed in a conservative suit, kneeling before her adversary and slurping his come from a small plastic cup, was enough for the judge and jury. Now, when a baby girl was born, she was exposed to her father's sperm when only days old. Although The Hunger did not begin until age 5 or 6, the practise had grown up; parents believed that it helped to "bind" the girl-child to her father. So a little ritual was performed, in which a few drops of the father's seed were smeared on the baby's lips while she was still in the creche. It was considered a good sign when a tiny girl used her tongue to lick the sperm from her lips. "She'll be a man-pleaser," the nurse would say of such a one. "Ready to suck it down already." *** Generations passed. The world, as remade by the Brotherhood, could barely be recognized. Men ruled the roost, presiding over large extended families of compliant and subservient females. A man could maintain a household of dozens of females, so long as he and his sons could keep them satisfied with semen. There were no ugly girls or women now; selective breeding had ensured that. Lesbian tendencies were likewise nearly gone; surprisingly, the gays had been right, and their abnormality was hereditary. Now it was nearly extinct, eliminated by genetics. Girls were 'inititated' into sex when they began experiencing The Hunger, at approximately five years of age. Young girls, as young as six or seven, were incredibly skilled at the art of pleasuring a male. Women who could no longer satisfy their owners were traded to other males or painlessly euthanized. The planet was peaceful and happy; women and girls had settled into their new, more natural role, and were now completely at home with it. The schools had evolved into 'training institutes' for girls, centers where intense sexual training was conducted. Girls were returned to their primary males ready for a life of service and pleasure; they never forgot the extraordinarily rigorous course of 'study' they were made to undergo at the institutes. Now, obedient and submissive, they accepted their new lives, living only to satisfy their Masters, existing from one ejaculation to the next, and thinking only of their next dose of sperm. Females were property, owned by their males. Killing a female was not illegal, but was considered to be 'unrefined behavior' by the other Masters. A Master's word was law in his own domain; his women obeyed helplessly, bound to their Master's life-giving seed. Within each household, the dominant male established rules of dress, behavior, and duties; the females submitted willingly to these rules, unable to even conceive of another way of life.