One in Ten

*Fear is a terrible seducer. It steals you away from the rest of the World*

Thanks to PokingFun for coming off her (near) Death Bed to edit this story for me.

I pulled up to my new apartment complex and groaned. It was a two story building shaped as a big U with a large swimming pool in the middle and a gym situated at the open end. Not for the first time I wished I had paid the hefty bribe and moved into a 'married couples' building and not this 'singles' complex the Housing Authority had saddled me with.

Head down, I began unloading my rental van and lugging my few belongings to my second story condo. I avoided other residents until I had my third box at my door. I wasn't stupid enough to leave my door open so I had to fiddle with the knob while balancing the box with one knee.

"Hi there," a female voice caught me off guard. "Do you need help with that?"

Now I'm no idiot. Sure, I had my long-sleeve shirt buttoned down, tight jeans that would be difficult to remove quickly and a strong belt on, but I wasn't inviting a strange woman into my dwelling. The odds of getting a conviction of female on male rape these days was nearly impossible. The assumption was that if I invited the girl in it was because I wanted to get fucked – essentially, I was asking for it.

"No, thank you. I've got this," I replied politely. "I turned and saw an attractive woman with dirty-blonde hair, around five-ten and athletically built. Her grey eyes bore into me and, while her smile remained plastered on her face, it grew frosty.

"Bracelet," she requested politely.

It wasn't something I could refuse – it was the law. I had to give my identity to any female of legal age. For the law's sake, all men had quarter-inch metal bands attached to their right wrists. The integrated chip was updated every twenty-four hours and held all my vital statistics. I was about to put the box down when she placed a hand underneath it.

"We can do that inside if you like," she suggested.

"That's very nice of you, but I don't know you," I evaded. I put the box down and extended my right arm toward her. She pulled out her phone, scanned my bracelet and then smirked.

"Single White Male, twenty-one, no attachments and you haven't had sex in the current cycle," she mused.

"I can help you with that," her demeanor warmed up slightly, mistakenly guessing that not having sex yet so late in this 28 day cycle I would be more receptive to her advances. All women liked to believe men were willing and eager to do our part in the procreative process. I had certainly never been asked about it.

"Thanks, but I've had a long drive. I need to finish getting the van unloaded and then unpack everything," I tried to be as nice as possible. That was not the answer she was looking for.

She looked back at her phone and scrolled through something. I took the opportunity to open my door and quickly pushed the box inside with my foot.

"You have been paying the fine for the last four cycles," she noted with critical interest. It was a demanding, dominant look. I couldn't tell if she was going to challenge my masculinity or make me cringe in fear at the exposure of my confidential information.

"Wait," I gulped. "How do you know that?"

She shifted her jacket aside and showed me her badge – and gun. She was a Metropolitan Police Officer – oh shit. Sexual harassment by police officers on men was frighteningly common.

"Yes," I replied promptly. "Yes I have."

"What's wrong with you?" she questioned me. "Are you homosexual? Can't you perform?"

The fine for male homosexuality was far more crippling than merely abstaining for a short while. Not having sex with a woman for six straight months was grounds for the violation of my civil rights and we both knew it. The plethora of male enhancement drugs and surgery made me not performing a joke. The whole issue of paying fines for abstaining from sex was confidential for a reason. It pissed many women off that men could still buy their way out of spending time with them. In the past, when that information had been generally available on our bracelets, some females had taken it upon themselves to 'teach' the offending male a lesson. To put a stop to this practice, the information had been reclassified as confidential.

"I really don't want to answer that," I said softly. "Please, it is personal."

"Very well, Mr. Jensen, or would you prefer I call you Israel?" she studied me.

"Thank you..." I stammered. Her grin grew as she pulled out her card and thrust it into my hand.

"Detective Angel Kristi," she informed me. "My roommate and I live right across the hall. Her name is Roni and she's a paramedic. I'll come by and check in on you when I get off shift." With that she headed downstairs. I took a deep breath. I had no illusions that her checking up on me was something I could refuse.

I managed to get the rest of my stuff inside before my second encounter. Two girls came at me with a bottle of tequila and a Tupperware container with all kinds of food in it. One was a tight-bodied Asian woman, a slender 5' 3" with black hair down to her shoulder blades. The other was a black girl, around 5'8" and built like a female volleyball player.

"Welcome neighbor," the black girl greeted me enthusiastically. "I'm Aniqua and this is my roommate, Kuiko." Kuiko waved with her free hand.

"Hey, Kuiko and Aniqua, I'm Israel Jensen" I gave them my best noncommittal grin. "Thank you."

"Sure," Kuiko stepped right up to me. "Is someone helping you unpack?"

Since the odds of me having a male roommate were miniscule (two guys in one domicile only happened in pornos and sitcoms). We both knew she was really asking if I had a girlfriend. That probably would have saved me, but they might have asked permission before getting me drunk and dragging me off for a fuck session. I decided to save them the trouble of scanning me.

"I'm a single White male; no attachments," I sighed. It took Aniqua a second to figure out what I wasn't saying.

"Bracelet," she 'suggested'. I offered, she scanned and she took a deep intake of breath. "You haven't had sex this cycle yet – oh goodie!"

"That's," gulp, "nice, but I'm exhausted from the move. Can I catch up with you ladies later?"

"Damn," Kuiko looked upset – and very frustrated. That gave me a sinking feeling.

"Am I the only guy in the complex?" I worried.

"Yes," Aniqua confirmed excitedly. "You are not only the only one here, but the only one on the entire block."

Oh fucking God! This couldn't be happening to me. When I was a freshman in college, a girl I trusted took me to a sorority party. She promised me she was only showing me off to her girl-pals. I was fucked raw for an entire weekend and they got it all on video. Like an idiot, I went to Campus Security.

They told me 'girls will be girls' and what did I expect going to a sorority party. As I left in utter humiliation, they joked about me having a nice ass. I never trusted a girl again. Once a month I picked a random girl on campus and asked her to fuck. I never got turned down and I never slept with a girl who hit on me.

In my junior year my Mother died and I received a small amount of money in an insurance policy. After that, I skated the law by paying the fine for five months at a time. The police came to visit me and I had court appointed psychiatrist appointments (again). Technically, I was still a citizen so they couldn't force me to take aphrodisiacs.

I met a guy who went down that road and he was a mess, hardly able to say 'no' to any woman, or women, he met.

"I really appreciate the gifts and the information but I really need to get my apartment in order before starting work tomorrow. Don't want to mess up my first day on the job," I informed them hoping they'd take the hint and back off.

"What's your job and where are you working?" Kuiko inquired.

"Public Relations for the Office of the Mayor," I confessed.

"Oh, you are political," Aniqua drew the wrong conclusion.

"No," I kept smiling. "I work for the city."

"I bet the reporting pool is going to love you," Kuiko sighed. It was not lost on me that city's chief executive might have chosen my application because of that. Essentially, I was a pretty face to put the best face possible on her policies.

"Well, I hope they will respect that I was top of my class," I suggested.

The girls giggled as if what I was proposing was absurd.

"Oh, you're adorable," Aniqua patted my shoulder. "You are going to be so much fun to have around."

"The last guy was a really fun slut," Kuiko sighed. "Then one day the poor little moron thought he was in love and got married to a woman who wouldn't share."

"Yeah, some women are no fun," I gulped. "On that note though, I really have to go," I backed into my apartment.

"Bye now," they waved in unison. As the door shut I heard Kuiko say,

"See the chest on that guy? He's got some real stamina," she mused.

"I hope he has a really big cock," Aniqua added. "Joseph was okay but he was barely five inches. Let's go online and see what his reviews are like."

I lost track of their voices as they wandered down the hall. I busied myself unpacking my meager belongs in my pre-furnished pad. I paced the place. I checked to see if the windows would open, but they were all stationary. If I wanted out, I'd have to kick a window open. All the interior doors were flimsy and the locks cheap. With every revelation, my heart sank deeper into despair. This didn't feel like a home. It felt like a holding cell with a comforting veneer.

I didn't like being in a place that had only one way in and out. My history left me like that. In the end I went for my old college trick of moving my dresser against my bedroom door before I went to bed with my baseball bat. I would have rather have had a gun. Men had to jump through hoops to get one and with my 'mental' history I knew that wasn't going to happen.

Maybe they were afraid I'd blow my brains out and that wouldn't do while I still had two working testicles. Despite the strange surroundings I managed to get to sleep without my sleeping pill which had been prescribed for me. I hated taking those pills. They left me feeling like I was walking in a fog.

I woke up a bit past midnight, feeling that something was wrong. I didn't know what it was until I heard the doorbell ring – again, I assumed. Fuck that noise, I wasn't answering the door after midnight. Hell, I didn't want to open my door after dark. There were two more rings then I guessed they gave up.

When the door knob turned, the brass candlestick I had placed on it fell. I grabbed my phone and called 9-1-1. The operator kept me on the line while letting me know that a patrol car was on the way. I nearly lost it. The intruder tried to get in my bedroom, bumping against the dresser.

"Israel, it is Angel," the intruder informed me. I thought about what to tell the 9-1-1 operator but there was no way I could see to win this. I informed the operator that there was a police officer already here with me, who she was and that the intruder must have been scared off. A few seconds later, Detective Kristi's phone rang and she verified my version of events.

"Are you going to let me in?" she asked.

"Do I have a choice?" I replied.

"Sure, but I read your file and I think we need to talk," she countered. I didn't say anything for the longest time. "I'll go if you want me to," she finally spoke up.

"Are you going to keep coming back?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered. I sighed and moved the dresser aside but I kept my bat. Angel came into my room and I backed to the bed. For a second, in my fatigue, I sat on my bed. When I realized where I was, I shot back up. She would assume my waiting on the bed meant I was 'receptive'.

There was a curl to Angel's lip as she regarded me.

"I would like to talk to you," she repeated. "We could talk out on the sofa if you prefer." That was a ruse. I'd been held down and screwed on all kinds of furniture as well as the floor, carpet and the dirt. No place was safe.

"We can talk in here," I allowed.

"I would feel better if you put down the bat," she requested.

"Are you going to put down your gun?" I countered. Surprisingly, she unholstered her weapon and put it on the dresser. I felt obliged to lean the bat against the wall. It was well within arm's reach. My action was a concession to a cop not a sign of trust.

Detective Kristi walked toward me and sat on the bed, patting the space next to her. I remained standing next to my bat.

"I know what happened to you when you were sixteen," she said softly. When I was sixteen, I was walking home from a date with my girlfriend (I was normal then) when I saw a woman having trouble on the side of the road.

I stopped to help her only to realize she had a body in the trunk. I found myself staring into the eyes of killer with a gun. She quizzed me about whether I was a good boy or not. I told her I was coming home from a date with my first girlfriend. She asked if we had sex. I confessed that she'd only given me a blowjob because I was unready for complete intercourse.

That admission saved my life but led to 87 days of hell. She kept me in her basement where she raped me at least once a day and sometimes three or four times. When she wasn't raping me, she was luring male prostitutes and dancers home and killing them for being 'impure'. She was a female police officer out on permanent disability (she had been shot in the stomach and lost both ovaries).

The experience left me awfully traumatized. I was ordered into therapy and was awarded an eighteen month exemption on sexual conduct. The therapy cured me of my terror...right up until I went to college. I took the psychological training I had learned after my abduction which encouraged me to reintegrate into society and tried to be normal. I met a girl two years older who aggressively pursued me. I reciprocated, we dated and I thought we really had a mutually supportive relationship. I was conditioned by the whole social/civil system to believe my girlfriend would keep me from harm.

That systemic subliminal conditioning convinced me to trust my girlfriend and that led me to being an unwilling participant in an orgy at her sorority. My ensuing encounter with campus security effectively eliminated any intentions I may have had about women and relationships.

"Well, you know what happened to me," I replied quietly. "Why is that relevant now?"

"You seemed to have transited the recovery program rather well but when you went to college you seem to have relapsed," Angel stated. So much for the confidentiality of my medical files, I thought.

"Oh," I stared at her, "you are now an expert on male rape and recovery?"

"No, but I showed your file to a co-worker who does specialize in it," Angel told me. "She says your behavior is abnormal."

"Good for her. Thanks for prying into my private life and medical files," I grew angry.

"I can't tell you how much I enjoy having a total stranger rip my life bare for your and your co-worker's enjoyment," I added. "Is this the point where you comfort me in my grief and then I perform for you?"

"No Israel, I only came by to talk," she took a deep breath.

"You don't need to be seeing women as the enemy," Angel went on. "That's not healthy. You need to trust women again like you did before your rape."

"What? My complaint to Campus Security didn't make it into my permanent record – what a crime," I joked bitterly.

"Your fucking therapy worked, Cop," I grumbled. "I trusted a girl in college and was raped for a weekend by her and about forty of her sorority sisters. The video was all over the university for months. Since I was so clearly a whore, girls felt it was okay to touch and grab me when and where ever. Why exactly should I trust when all therapy taught me was a lie?"

"Israel, you cannot live your life in fear," Angel sounded intense. "Women are everywhere. Besides, therapy wasn't a lie. Most women aren't monsters and respect men and their rights."

"Listen, Officer Kristi, I do my part," I glared. "I have the required amount of sex or pay the fine. I'm not a subversive. I don't frequent subversive internet sites. I follow the law."

"You know that's not enough, Israel," Angel stood up. "Our youth demographic is in decline and before long Congress is going to expand on the Gender Inequality Act. Men will be required to contribute more; more sex with more partners and plural marriages."

"Why are you telling me this?" I hung my head.

"I think you are a nice guy, Israel," Angle rubbed my left bicep. "I don't want to see you go under."

"The fact that I am the only man in a block has nothing to do with it," I stated in a neutral voice.

"I'm not a saint, but I'll be your friend if you need one," Angel offered.

"Yeah, right," I let my bitterness boil forth for a second, "since the police have been my friends all my life. The police are women looking after women and men had better watch out unless we want to find ourselves 'wards of the state'." I immediately regretted telling her the truth.

"See Israel, those are the wrong kinds of thoughts that can get you in trouble," she warned me with enough compassion to scare me.

"We are having a party by the pool Saturday at noon. Why don't you show up?" Angel suggested. "It will do you good to get out there and deal with this problem of yours head-on."

"Okay," I felt dead inside. "I'll be there."

"Don't be like that," Angel sighed in exasperation. "It will be fun. No one will act inappropriately. You'll have a good time."

"Let me guess," I pulled away. "You'll be there to protect me."

"I know you don't believe me. Just show up and you will see that you don't need protection. If you feel uncomfortable, let me know," Angel tried to keep the warmth in her voice.

"Thank you," I lied. This whole interview was worse than a waste of time. "I need to get some sleep so could you please leave now."

"Learn to relax a little, Israel," Angle warned me again, but she did leave. I followed along. At the door she handed me my candlestick.

"Nice trick," she grinned.

"Yeah, but now that you know it, I'll have to think of something else," I admitted. She shook her head in disappointment but left without comment.

The next morning I woke up bright and early. I wanted to make a good impression and show up early to work. I made my way to the metro stop with all the normal precautions. I wished it was winter, not summer, so that I could wear heavier clothes and not stand out. As it was, I wore a light overcoat despite the high being forecast to be around 80 degrees.

I also kept headphones and kept my notepad close to my face reading a book online so I didn't have to make eye contact with any women. To my dismay, the only other man at the station appeared to be around fifty-five and exhausted. Something was clearly wrong. The Housing Authority normally made sure that single men and women were put in close proximity. Something was definitely wrong.

I attributed several factors that allowed me to reach a corner seat unmolested. Monday morning fatigue aided me but several years of practice in blending in was the key. The first girl asked me for my bracelet half way down the line.

"21? You must be fresh out of college," she chortled. "Did you have fun in school?"

"I'm looking forward to making a paycheck," I replied.

Her name was Debra and she was nice enough. She hadn't had a boyfriend in four years (hint, hint), worked at a dry cleaners and lived right across the street from my condo. She was a little put out that I wouldn't give her my numbers or address but wasn't an ass about it. She also gave me an interesting tidbit of information.

Six months ago there had been twelve guys in the neighborhood. Seven had up and gotten married, two had transferred out and two had simply vanished. The marriages were above the average and the disappearances were disturbing. The only other guy was Steve, a widower, who was on 'medication' to help in 'reconnect' and deal with his grief.