Death by Fucing

© 2004 by Andrew Wiggin

Chapter 22: The Quick Years

The Year 13

Deirdre's Story:

I had to go into town to pick up something at the drugstore, so I grabbed Emma to go along for the ride. We have a rule in our house: no parent goes anywhere without being accompanied by an eKid.

There have been rumblings over the years about us. We've heard them. We've read about them. We aren't necessarily the most popular people in eastern Georgia. It's strange to take a teenager along as one's personal bodyguard.

The eKids are powerful. No one really knows how powerful. We've spent their lifetime trying to teach them not to abuse their powers. And in the idyllic existence we've made for them, why should they have to display their strengths?

Emmy and I had been into the drugstore to pick up a prescription to help Donnie and me with our menopausal woes. We had parked in the little parking lot in the alley behind the store. The drugstore was one of the old-fashioned ones that still have a soda fountain, so Emma had lingered behind to pick up something to drink. I should know better than to walk the streets alone, but Statesboro is such a lovely, safe little town.

I saw him standing in the alley. I know it is my prejudices speaking, but I just am less than comfortable around men who have tattoos covering their entire bodies from the chin down; especially ones who weigh two hundred and fifty pounds and wear leather vests with no shirt.

Like any other woman, I pretended to ignore his existence and made for my car in the lot. I felt myself willing him away. After all, what interest would he have in a person like me, a late-forties, frumpy old lady? But it was not to be.

As I approached my car, he stepped in front of me.

"Hey, baby. Where you goin' in such a hurry?"

For the first time I looked him in the eye. I would have looked him in the eyes, but one of his was obviously glass.

I said, "Excuse me, sir, but you are in my way." I quickly glanced around and realized that I saw no one. I suspected that this man may not have my best interests at heart, so I issued a little mental distress call to my daughter, still in the drugstore.

He said, "You're her, ain't ya' babe?"

I replied, "I'm who?"

He laughed. "You're the Progenitor's bitch! I've seen pictures of your naked ass. I've always wanted to see that ass for myself. Come on, baby, let me see that ass."

I said, "Please young man, you don't really want to talk to me that way. It would be best if you just backed away before someone gets hurt."

Just then Emma walked out of the drugstore and came hurrying up to me.

"Momma, is everything all right?"

I said, "Everything's fine, sweetie. This man is going to allow us to walk past him and go to our car."

But the man had other ideas. "Damn, you are one hot little thing! You're sexier than your mama. I might just have to do me a family sandwich. Yeah, you two are goin' to have a good time with me."

Then the huge ugly thing drew out a large ugly knife. "Why don't you two just get in the back of my van over there? It's time for a little mother-daughter fuckin'."

Emma actually laughed. "Little boy, you aren't man enough to take care of one of us, let alone handle two at a time. Why don't you take your puny little dick home and whack off?"

I have no idea why she finds situations like this amusing. I said, "Now Emma, you leave the man alone. I'm sure that he doesn't mean any harm."

The fat ugly thing looked confused. "What the hell are you two sluts talkin' about? Now get in the van before I cut someone!"

Suddenly the man looked past us and I saw a look of fear come into his eyes. I turned but couldn't see anything. Emma whispered to me, "You wanna hear this?" I just nodded.

In my mind I heard a herald of trumpets followed by a voice that sounded suspiciously like Cecil B. DeMille in "The Ten Commandments". You'd think that Emma would have some originality.

The voice said, "Thus saith the Lord: If thy right eye offends thee, pluck it out. If thy dick offends thee, cut it off!"

I whispered to Emma, "Is that really in the Bible?"

Emma said to the fat man, "It looks like you already did the eye part; how about the dick?"

The fat man looked stricken. He pulled down the zipper of his pants and reached in and pulled out a truly puny penis. I said to Emma, "For heaven's sake, don't let him cut it off!"

I heard the sonorous voice of DeMille shout "Stop! Go sinner and sin no more! If you try this again, you will be eating your balls for breakfast!"

The fat man turned and ran like hell. Both Emma and I were laughing by the time the man's van had sped down the street. I hugged her. She can turn even a dangerous event into a comic misadventure.

I said, "Emma, that man is a menace to society. We should do something to be sure he doesn't try to harm anyone else."

She laughed. "I saw 'A Clockwork Orange', Momma. That little heavenly vision is implanted in his brain. Every time he thinks about being violent he's going to have a visit from an angel."

I was shocked. "Emma, I didn't know you had any religion at all. When did you read the Bible?"

She just shrugged. "Of course I've read the Bible. Do you take me for an illiterate?

H. sapiens

like their religion, Momma. I sensed that the fat man was raised in one of those Southern Baptist sects that drive Daddy crazy. He doesn't go to church, but he still thinks he will burn in hell for all of the bad things he has done. Maybe now he'll stop doing bad things and he will end up in whatever weird little vision of heaven he sees.

"One day I'm going to write a book quoting all the contradictory passages in the Bible. I'll write a chapter using one set of verses, then another chapter condemning the previous chapter with another set of verses. I'll call it 'Dueling Bibles'".

I was horrified. "Well if you do, please use an assumed name. Don't mention your father at all. Please don't involve IAM in this. Most of the Religious Right already believes that we are blasphemers and heretics. Your father is the Anti-Christ. Don't give them any more ammunition."

We drove home. Everyone was waiting for us and we were mobbed when we got out of the car. Andrew looked so worried. I don't now whether Emma had somehow let the others know about our little confrontation, or if the others had sensed it by themselves.

He said, "Dee Dee, are you okay? Emmy, are you all right? That S.O.B. didn't hurt you, did he?"

Before Andrew could start lecturing me on making sure I am safe, I went for a preemptive strike.

I said, "Andrew, just calm down. We were never in danger. Emma is our personal little anti-violence crusader. She convinced the man to leave us alone and to be good from now on. He won't be a danger to anyone ever again."

Andrew hugged Emma. He always hugs Emma. I heard him whisper to her, "Maybe we can sneak you into the White House. You can train the President to be anti-violent and we can stop having all of these crazy little wars."

She just smiled and basked in his affection. She is a sucker for her Daddy's affection. So am I.

The Year 18

Donnie's Story: New Man U.

New Man University is ten years old. Already it's one of the most respected institutes of higher learning in the country. That certainly has something to do with the advances made in scientific areas by the faculty and students – mostly the students. But it also must in part be due to the integrity and ethics that are such an integral part of the university.

After we received our charter we started hiring the best possible faculty. We pay top dollar to top-of-the-line professors who want an opportunity to teach the intellectual elite of the world. The top minds on earth don't teach at New Man U. The top minds are the students at New Man U.

We've got research facilities being built constantly, upgrading to state-of-the-art hardware, much of it designed by our own students. We've received additional funding from major corporations who only want the opportunity to take advantage of the research that is a minor by-product of the education of the next generation. None of that research involves weapons.

Ours is a unique setup. Every attendee of New Man U. is on full scholarship. We don't charge anything. However, we make them sign an honor pledge when they come to school. They agree to give the University endowment fund 10% of the net profits of anything they develop while in attendance, continuing for five years after graduation. Like Andrew says, somebody has to pay for all of those scholarships. We can't expect Elle to devote her entire life to financing New Man U.

We don't do contracts. Contracts are things written to let people know what they can do to get out of the terms of the contract. We don't work that way. We have the eKids state that on their honor they will give back to the university some of what they got out of it. There is a stipulation in the pledge that if any kid really needs the money, the pledge is null and void. They can honor the pledge or not honor the pledge. There is nothing legally binding about it. We try to teach them that legality doesn't matter. It is their word of honor that counts.

We aren't a four-year college. An eKid can come to New Man U., stay for as long as she likes, announce her graduation and leave. If at some point later the eKid decides to return to the University, she will merely renounce her degree and come back. All of the older eKids are females. The D-generation didn't start popping out males until later.

We've only been around for ten years, but governments and businesses are panting for the graduates of New Man U. Our oldest students are eighteen years old. Our youngest are six. We even built quarters so that parents can come and be with their children.

Little does the outside world know that our basic curriculum here revolves around the teaching of ethics. We want to equip these kids to go out into the world and act as shepherds. They are already well equipped to handle life in the world of

H. sapiens

. We're worried about

H. sapiens

handling life in a world controlled by New Man. Because there is no doubt that eventually, sooner rather than later, the eKids will run the world.

So we teach them right from wrong, insofar as we understand it. I'm sure that soon they will be teaching us. Each and every one of them is a potential weapon. Each can achieve whatever he desires in the world of

H. sapiens

. Is it wrong for us to want them to fulfill their dreams without destroying the dreams of others? Is it wrong to teach them to leave a minimalist footprint wherever they walk?

One could call us bleeding heart liberals, I suppose, even though we don't look at ourselves that way. We look for a world where everyone is treated with respect and honor. That's our goal, Andrew's, Dee Dee's and mine. Before the first brick was laid, the first foundation dug, the first professor interviewed, we had a plan in place. We were going to create a wedge of intelligence and goodwill designed to split apart the mean-spirited, greedy, and self-destructive world that

H. sapiens

had created.

All of the living quarters and most of the college itself is underground. Our son Ethan designed a plan that called for minimally invasive buildings. There are people movers, also underground, taking students and faculty, mothers and fathers back and forth between their homes, classrooms, facilities, and the underground parking garage. So except for the few original buildings that were designed by an

H. sapiens

architect, and which are quite lovely, the area of the University and the Institute for the Advancement of Mankind still retains its antebellum appearance. Well, except for Andrew's tennis court and our swimming pool.

Because very young children come to New Man U., usually they are accompanied by their mothers, fathers or both. We provide room and board for them, too. And that gives us a nice pool of people to draw on for the University and corporate staff. We offer extremely competitive wages, full health care, and a very nice 401k plan. Our staff doesn't have to drive to work and they can eat for free in the cafeteria.

On the other hand, we don't need a bursar's office since we don't charge anything. We don't have a recruitment office. Well, there aren't that many applicants to consider, just the current batch of New Men. And if the family situation allows, they all come here. They certainly can't attend any normal school. Where else could they go?

Our only qualification for admission is proof of IQ. In an ecumenical move, we have allowed any person with an IQ above 180 to come to New Man U. That allows for the very upper echelon of

H. sapiens

to attend as well.

Oh, have I mentioned who runs the place? That's me: Dr. Donna M. Adkins, PhD., President of New Man University. Who'd a thought it?

The Year 20

Andrew's Story

Someone has to do the administrative work around here. Donnie sits in the President's office and looks official. Dee Dee spends all her time dealing with the family's business interests. That leaves me to do the dirty work. I try to put in four to eight hours a day at New Man U., just handling all the things that have to be handled in the life of a college. Even New Man U. has things that have to be dealt with.

So I have me an office, a workstation, a laser printer. I feel like I'm back at AWC but have moved up a step in middle-management. I'm not complaining. As I said, someone has to do this shit. Might as well be me.

I have a few administrative assistants under me, figuratively speaking. I'm pretty sure that at least one of them would like it to be more than figurative, if you know what I mean.

Every woman who works at New Man U. is a D-generation twin from the President on down. That's a little freaky. Well they are here anyway supporting their kids. I can't think of many other colleges where the students have their mommies with them. I'm just being a grump. I hate doing all of this paperwork.

So Doris Fleming is one of my Administrative Assistants. I mean, what is it with this job terminology today? She's a fucking secretary! Why don't we just admit it?

This is one sexy chick. Just about every time she comes in to my office to deliver a paper or pick up something or ask for assistance, she comes around my desk and leans over me. She has left a permanent impression of her tit on my arm. She's always touching me, thanking me for my help with a peck on the cheek or a quick hug. It's driving me nuts.

This girl is one of the youngest of the D-generation. She is in her early thirties. And she looks excellent. I'm not immune to such things, you know. Try having some lovely young thing hanging over you all day long and see how you feel.

I mentioned it to Dee Dee the other day, how Doris is coming on to me. Deirdre just laughed.

She said, "You've still got it, Andrew."

The woman loves to see me suffer. She knows perfectly well that there is no danger that I'll accept these advances. As a matter of fact, I was deep into Dee Dee when I told her about the way Doris is acting. I was horny. So I went over to the house and asked Dee Dee if she wanted to take some time off from presidenting or whatever the hell it is she does.

She said, "Andrew, I'm a busy woman. Can't this wait until a more appropriate time?"

I knew she was yanking my chain. She loves to see me suffer. I said, "Deirdre, there will never be a more appropriate time than the present. It's as appropriate as it is ever going to get. It's extremely fucking appropriate! Just put the 'out to lunch' placard on your door and let's go upstairs."

She said, "Sweetie you are so romantic. You just sweep a girl right off of her feet."

I was getting desperate. "Baby, I really need you right now. Come upstairs and I'll tell you about it. But I know I'll be a lot more comfortable discussing it while we are doing our Vulcan Mind Meld thing."

I could see that Dee Dee was pleased with my discomfiture. "Really, Andrew, I can't remember when you were so eager for me. I remember a night back in Cleveland many years ago when you practically raped me. You were so impatient! Sometimes I like that. Oh, well. I suppose the world can wait on my next executive decision. Let's go upstairs, sweetie, and scratch that itch."

I guess I was practically dragging her upstairs. We got in our bedroom and I attacked her. I couldn't help it. Her clothes were flying. My clothes were flying. I picked her up and kissed her as I carried her to the bed.

Dee Dee is older now, and she requires a little working up to become properly lubricated. But I was ecstatic to note that her juices were already flowing.

I've

still got it?

She's

still got it! The woman is fifty-five years old and still loves to make love. I think she really likes to know that she makes me hot.

It's not something that I can hide from them you know. We have this thing between us, Donnie and Dee Dee and me. We feel each other's emotions. It is a gift that Emmy gave us many years ago. We are an open book to each other.

She's fifty-five and already past menopause. I'm forty-five and still horny. It doesn't matter. She is still the same enthusiastic bed partner; still the soft and lovely girl of my dreams. Age will never wither her beauty; nor slow down her sex drive, apparently, thank goodness.

She lay on the bed with that Mona Lisa smile of hers, her soft round little body still lovely after all these years. She reached out for me and again I answered her siren call.

This still happens every now and then. I get crazed, I guess. I have to take her, hard. I get this overwhelming feeling of possessiveness or lust, one of those. I know she's mine. Deep in her soul, down at her most primitive, primal level, she belongs to only me and always has. Just as I belong to only her.

I like the way Doris is throwing herself at me, I'll admit it. It gets my juices flowing, that's for sure. She's a lovely and sexy young woman. Do I look like a eunuch? But once the juices are flowing, I go looking for my wife.

I rubbed my dick around Deirdre's sexy and soft pussy lips, just to pick up some of her lubrication. Well, hell, it felt damn good too! And then I drove it home.

Dee Dee's eyes glazed over as she felt the force of my entrance. I couldn't help it; I slammed into her, making her, marking her. She knew that this was going to be one of those fucks. I think she really likes one of those fucks.

My mouth was suckling her left nipple; my right hand was fondling that wonderful tit of hers. It's like cotton candy or clouds or something. Her breasts are so soft, so light, they practically defy gravity.

Let me parenthetically note that I've fondled a couple of thousand pairs of tits in my life, and none of them ever turned me on like Dee Dee's. Well, except for Donnie's. They are both the same. I have constant and ready access to the four greatest tits in the world. And if I'm a very good boy, sometimes all four at once. Just lucky, I guess.

I was hammering my cock into her, eliciting moans of arousal and delight from my arousing, delightful wife. I lifted my mouth from her tit and we kissed. Her lips are as soft as the rest of her. We were full circle, my mouth on her lips, my dick buried deeply within her, our souls merged in our dance of love and passion.

I mean, Doris is one sexy chick and I would be lying if I said she doesn't turn me on. But I've come to expect my sex life to be absolutely perfect. Perfection like that could only be achieved with Deirdre or Donnie. I can accept no substitutes.

I was having my way with Dee Dee. I guess she was having her way with me too. Our souls were in synch, but in these kinds of fucks, these balls-to-the-wall monkey fucks, our souls played second fiddle to our mutual, seemingly unquenchable, lust. We were humping like two teenagers on their first date.