The Y Virus Ch 07

The following story is entirely fictitious. Any similarity to any persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional. All characters depicted in sexual acts and scenarios are at least eighteen years of age or older. The following story contains aspects of BDSM, CBT (cock and ball torture), femdom, forced orgasms, tease and denial, prostate stimulation, anal sex, ass worship, sex with machines, and much more. If any of these categories don't appeal to you then I strongly suggest you don't read the following story and find something else more suited to your tastes. You have been warned!

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The Y-Virus

Chapter Seven: Dr. Miller's Secret

When I awoke the next morning everything seemed wonderful. I looked outside my window and the sun was shining without a cloud hampering its golden light. In fact, there were only a few wisps of cloud scattered here and there. It was a lovely day (even though I knew I wouldn't be able to enjoy its natural beauty from within the protective walls I was standing behind. This was the only thought that dampened my mood, but even that wasn't enough to keep me down much). The people I passed along the corridors were friendly and smiled with a nod. They didn't pester or embarrass me with senseless comments with sexual undertones about what I had done with Akira the day before.

I was glad that they kept to themselves for the most part. I think it had to do with the fact that there were two other men scheduled to impregnate a couple women in the facility a few days later. Some of the attention from the others would be redirected to these other men for a while and I welcomed the prospect of that. I was starting to get sick of the cheesy comments and nudges in my ribcage.

I made my way into the cafeteria and sat with my friend Keith. Even he was in good spirits and abstained from making unnecessary comments about yesterday. That's one of the traits I like about Keith: he never feels the need to stress his point in order to get it across. Saying something once is usually enough with him.

He was typing on a laptop (of sorts) when I sat down with him. When I inquired about what he was doing he told me that he felt it was important for there to be some kind of record about what the world was like after the Y-Virus fucked everything up, especially from the perspective of a gay man from the past. This inspired me to do something similar. I started writing about my experiences later that same day (I admit that I probably added far more sex than Keith did, and it would eventually become the very thing you're reading at this moment).

Tabby Cat came up to me and asked if she could make something for me for breakfast. She always seemed cheerful and upbeat whenever I saw her, but, like most of the other people, she seemed a tad bit happier on this day.

"Hmm . . . pancakes, if it's not too much trouble."

"Ain't no trouble at all, darlin'." She often called the men "darlin'," but she always had a slightly different inflection in her voice whenever she said it to me.

"Thanks, Tabby Cat. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, darlin'." She put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze before turning and going on her way into the kitchen area.

Up to this point I thought that nothing could ruin this day. Everything seemed in perfect harmony with everything else; almost Zen-like. I would soon be proven wrong because Zach Fillmore came up to where I was and, without invitation, pulled up a chair and sat down next to me.

Zach spoke to me with a hushed tone so that only Keith and I could hear, "Hey, man. You gotta tell me what Akira was like in the sack. You're such a lucky bastard. I'd give my left nut just to pound that bitch from behind. What an ass!" He lifted his eyes to the heavens.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, or give any other facial expression that could've been interpreted as annoyance. I'm the kind of person who abhors negative confrontations (especially physical altercations because I was bullied a lot in my childhood) and would do anything to avoid a fight. I tried to endure his obnoxious demeanor to the best of my abilities.

"I really don't want to talk about it." I said with some composure.

"Why wouldn't you?" Zach said at the same hushed tone as before. "If I were in your shoes I'd never shut up about it. I'd make sure everybody remembered that I made it with a woman like that. You should be proud."

"I am, but I still don't feel like talking about it."

The truth was that I didn't want to talk about it with him, of all people. Nothing was ever sacred with him; at least that's my opinion of the horrid man.

"What are you, gay?! I know that can't be it. You went all the way with her." Zach was beginning to speak in a more casual volume, "You bi or something?"

"Why do you assume that just because someone doesn't want to talk to you about their sex life then in automatically makes them gay or bisexual?" Keith interjected on my behalf. He was clearly annoyed with Zach and that didn't surprise me (Zach made quite a few bigoted comments to him before).

"Shut up, faggot, I wasn't talking to you. Don't you have a dick to suck, or something?" Zach said, trying to keep his voice down so the women couldn't hear.

Keith didn't say anything. The comment clearly hurt his feelings, but Keith wasn't about to give Zach the satisfaction of showing an emotional response. I could see Keith struggling to keep his composure.

"Dude, c'mon, that wasn't cool." I said with indignation.

"I'll say whatever I wanna say. You ain't the fuckin' speech police!" Zach was now a little louder.

"True, but don't talk to him like that. He's twice the man you'll ever be. You seriously need to grow up, man." I said.

I balled my fist under the table and readied myself for anything. I knew what I said would not sit well with Zach.

"Fuck you!" Zach slapped an open palm onto the table.

"HEY! Is there a problem over there?!" Dr. Miller yelled from across the cafeteria. She was beginning to walk in our direction with a finger up to her wrist remote.

I didn't say anything. I kept my guard up just in case something did happen; my fist at the ready under the table if Zach was stupid enough to resort to violence. I also braced myself for a possible shock to the balls from Dr. Miller's remote, although I didn't think she'd really shock me. She was smart enough to know who was the instigator was in this situation. I still braced myself just to be on the safe side.

Zach looked back at us and said quietly, "You know what? I don't need to waste my time with a couple of fairies like you guys."

I was glad to see him go; Keith even more so. Zach left through a pair of doors opposite the direction Dr. Miller was approaching. When Alexis reached our table, she moved her finger away from her wrist remote.

"What was all that about?" She could see that Keith wasn't going to answer her. He was still, quiet, and his eyes were closed. She turned to me, "Mr. Barber?"

Looking for a way to answer that wouldn't make me come off as a schoolyard tattletale, I replied, "Philosophical differences of the highest caliber."

Alexis just looked at me with a crooked eyebrow. She knew that wasn't how I usually spoke. Judging from the look on her face, she wasn't satisfied with that answer. I couldn't blame her.

She decided not to press the issue much further, but still said, "I need to know if what happened between you gentlemen might later have an effect on the peace within these walls. Is there any reason I should believe something more than a verbal spat might occur between Mr. Fillmore and you two gentlemen?"

"No, I don't think so," I saw that Dr. Miller was looking more at Keith than at me. I added, "But I think maybe it would be best if Zach kept his distance for a while. You see, he doesn't much approve of Keith's . . ." I paused for decency's sake.

I didn't have to finish. Dr. Miller knew, like everybody else, about Keith's sexual orientation.

"I can work out a new schedule that'll reduce the likelihood of him crossing paths with the two of you, would that be satisfactory?" She was asking Keith more than I.

"That won't be necessary," Keith finally said. His voice was a lot calmer than I thought it would be. I was half-expecting his voice to tremble a little. He was the sensitive-artist-type, after all. But he kept on amazing me by cracking a joke, "Zach's probably just upset because he has to take those chrome tentacles up his ass on a regular basis. I guess the prospect of having things up his butt threatens his heterosexuality."

I found his assessment/joke amusing. I couldn't suppress a laugh.

Keith added, "I think he redirects his thoughts on the subject by taking his frustrations out on people like me."

When I laughed, Dr. Miller turned and gave me a look that seemed to say, "That's not going to help anything." But if that's what she meant with that look, then I would disagree. Laughter can help, and it can be great medicine. Besides, it wasn't like Zach was around to be offended by the comment or my laughter. Even if he were around I could care less about his feelings after what he said to Keith.

"Very well," Dr. Miller said to Keith, "I'll keep the schedules as they stand, but I'm going to keep a closer eye on things. I won't risk losing the peace and order we have."

Keith and I both nodded our understanding and Alexis went on her way.

I felt bad for Keith having to endure Zach's intolerance, but his ability to cope with it using his sense of humor was admirable. We talked for a little while longer. I said, trying to sound a little optimistic, that he had some more material for his journal. He told me that it wasn't really anything new. Also, he said he wasn't going to put the same sort of prejudice, especially against him personally, in the journal word for word. He said he might only mention this latest encounter in a brief sentence or two, but wouldn't go into much detail. I couldn't blame him for not wanting to record something that made him feel horrible.

After a few more minutes of harmless banter, Tabby Cat came to our table with our breakfast plates. She looked worried. I knew she must've heard the commotion like everybody else in the cafeteria.

"Is everythin' okay?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, we're fine. Zach was just being Zach." I said.

Tabby Cat looked puzzled by my answer.

She didn't really spend a lot of time around Zach and didn't know about his bigotry, or, like most women in the CDC, his objectifying view of the more attractive women in the facility. He didn't really seem to care much for the other women who performed vital functions in order to keep the place running as well as it was.

Zach was, in truth, a short-sighted horndog who only seemed to think with his dick. But whenever he found himself in the company of women, he changed his behavior radically. He would smile and speak respectfully to each and every one of them, as if he were the friend whose shoulder you could cry on when things looked gloomy. I figured this act was just to avoid getting shocked in the balls. There was no doubt in my mind that he would've been shocked more frequently if the women knew the real Zach Fillmore.

I admit that I've succumbed to a little of the "horndog" mentality. Being offered to have sex with women like Akira, Alexis, and Mary McFlarghan was more than enough to cloud my thinking on a few matters. But I would often reflect on my situation, the other men's situations, and the state of the world as a whole when alone in my ward. It was often easiest to do this kind of thinking a few minutes after having my cum milked out by an Orgasmanatrix. Sex would be far from my mind after my appointments with those machines.

Zach, on the other hand, had no sense of introspection. In a strange way, I pitied him a little because of it; however, his most recent altercation with Keith and I changed that feeling into distain. I wanted his act to unfold around the women, but I wasn't going to resort to speech that might come off to the women as slander of a fellow man. Given the state of the world, it would probably seem a petty thing in the eyes of the women.

Besides, I had no way of proving that he wasn't what he seemed to the women. Even if I did it wouldn't change the fact that they needed his sperm just as much as they needed mine. Not much would change, and if it did it would only end in an even more serious state of affairs between him and me.

"Well, eat up, darlin'." Tabby Cat said, smiling.

"Yes, ma'am."

I took up my fork and knife and started to cut the pancakes on my plate. I was glad to see that she also graced my plate with a side of hash browns. She knew what I liked.

Tabby Cat took great pride in her cooking, and I enjoyed everything she made for me regardless of its simplicity. Her soup, oatmeal, grits, eggs, pancakes, waffles, and so on, were very good. She rivaled the cooking of my own mother and I looked forward to breakfast every morning. I suspected that she was adhering to that old maxim: The best way to a man's heart is through his stomach (not that there was anything wrong with that idea. Hell, I wasn't going to complain about a good meal).

The more I ate, and the more I enjoyed her food, the more I felt a pang of guilt. She seemed to be trying her hardest to gain my affections through her cooking. But my feelings were still guided mostly to Akira. With each bite I started to feel a little more like some kind of douchebag—like Zack. (Although we were douchebags in different ways, admittedly).

I was more than happy at the prospect of giving her a child. She was a cute woman and loving enough to be a fantastic mother. But I didn't feel good at the thought of possibly breaking her heart if she was falling in love with me. It wasn't my intention of ever hurting someone's feelings in such a way. A thing like this happened to me more than once in the twenty-first century, but, ironically, I found myself on the other end of the spectrum in the twenty-fourth.

The pancakes and hash browns had a bittersweet taste the more I ate and the more I thought about Tabby Cat, but I finished the plate easily enough because, in truth, it tasted so damn good.

Tabby Cat had returned to the kitchen area long before I finished my plate. I deposited my dirty dishes and cup into the usual receptacles before sitting back at my table with Keith.

"Don't dwell too much on Zach," I told him, "You shouldn't take that dickhead too seriously because he never took anything seriously in his whole life . . ." I thought for a moment, "except maybe the decision to freeze himself."

"I know," He said with much more composure than he did when Zach first made his comments, "but I thought that after centuries of technological advancements and social progress I'd be free from the prejudices of my own time. Not only do I have to still deal with people like him, but there are so few men in this time. The only other gay man in this 'prison' is someone I'm not all that attracted to."

"I think I understand, at least to a certain extent. I can't really say I understand it completely because I'm not gay, but I do sympathize."

I imagined this future world was like a personal hell for Keith. I felt a tremendous amount of pity for him. I silently wished for things to get better for him.

Aside from these sad feelings I had for Keith's situation, the rest of the day went rather well despite the confrontation we had with Zach.

I spent a good portion of the day reading the book on hover vehicles I had borrowed from the library section the day before. As I read the book I came to understand that most hover vehicles in this time period were powered by solar energy and had batteries within them that housed the excess energy that wasn't used. The solar panels of the future were able to harness much more energy than the ones from my time. One day in the sun was more than enough to fully charge a battery. Most batteries, in turn, could provide an average of thirty-six hours of flight without the presence of the sun.

There were also some designs that ran on electricity. These models had batteries which could be replaced and recharged if needed. According to the book, these designs were on the verge of becoming obsolete before the Y-Virus plagued the world (I knew this because the book was published in the year 2305, the year before the virus brought upon the apocalypse). There was one small benefit to this type of hover vehicle: If the weather became too cloudy over an extended period of time, they didn't need sunlight to refuel them. It was a minor benefit, but it was enough to keep the electric-powered units in production.

Later that evening, I asked Amy Hocke if there were any abandoned hover vehicles remaining in the parking garage which was adjacent to the CDC main building. The garage was located outside the quarantine, so the men weren't able to visit that sector of the grounds. She told me there were dozens, and all in working order thanks to her mechanical skills. Most of them once belonged to the men that worked in the CDC before the plague. Since the concept of property ownership had changed since the Y-Virus, they were used freely by Dr. Miller's scouts whenever they were sent out on missions.

Amy also mentioned that we had three military hover tanks at our disposal. Each was recovered by Kristine Lane and her girlfriend Trisha. Since Kristine had served in the U.S. Army, she knew where to find them and was well trained on how to operate them. Apparently Kristine convinced Dr. Miller that it was important for them to get their hands on these war machines before they fell into the wrong hands: The Black Widows.

I figured that the Black Widows would find military vehicles in other parts of the world, but I couldn't deny that it was a good precautionary measure to have a few hover tanks in our possession.

Amy also informed me that the tanks rested on a separate landing platform that was specifically built to hold heavy flying machines. I didn't know of its existence until it was mentioned by Amy. She said the reason I didn't know about it was because it was located in a field next to the CDC building, but the field was located on the opposite side of the quarantined area. The men didn't have access to the windows of that side of the building.

We talked for a few hours more. She told me of a few other heavy vehicles that shared the same landing platform as the tanks. These other hover vehicles were used primarily for the transport of large cargo. She told me about how the men were transported here in the cargo holds of these vessels while we were all frozen in our cryo-chambers.

"How else do you think we brought you guys here . . . on our backs?" She said jokingly.

"No." I said, laughing with her. "Knowing exactly how I arrived here was never on my list of priorities. Dr. Miller made sure that sperm production was on top of that list."

She laughed at this for a short while.

"I can't say I blame her," Amy said. "We all know how important it is for you boys to keep those balls working overtime." She made a gesture with her hand that looked like she was holding a pair of floating, invisible testicles in her hand. She flexed her fingers to make it look like she was giving them a quick squeeze or two.

I knew what she was really saying with this gesture. "Hey, how did you know I was into that sort of thing?"

"Word gets around, boyo." She curled up her lips into a half-smile as she squeezed the non-existent, invisible balls once more.

"Hey! You wait your turn." I said as I playfully batted her hand away with one hand as I put my other over my crotch.