Sex Culture in the 23rd Century

Sex Culture in the 23

rd

Century

By Gary L.M. Martin

Chapter 7: The Glories of SleepTalk

The next morning, when Laura went into the Manipulator, it stripped her nude and gave her a soothing dry shower. But before it put clothes on her, it asked her a new question. "What size breasts would you like today, Laura?"

"What?" said Laura.

"What size breasts would you like to have today?" Ted asked again.

"What are yew saying? Can yew change the size of my breasts?" Laura asked.

"Of course," said Ted. "It merely involves the stimulation of your mammary gland, to contract or expand-"

"Is it permanent?"

"No," said Ted.

"I can have a different breast size every day, if I wanted?"

"Yes," said Ted.

"Let me think about this," said Laura.

********

"So what are the sizes?" Rowenka asked, as she stood nude in the Manipulator. Her breasts were of a good size, but it never hurt to know her options.

"The widths run from U to Z. The lengths go from one to seven."

Rowenka held up her own ample breasts, looked at them critically. "What do I have now?"

"You have a pair of X-4's," said Ted.

Rowenka looked confused.

Ted translated. That meant that her breasts were rated as being fairly wide, but not very prominent.

She thought for a moment. There was something missing in her sex life with Manu. Maybe this was it. "Make me into a Y-6," she said.

A pair of lights shined on her breasts, and Rowenka heard a humming as she felt a tingling sensation in her nipples....

She didn't say a word at breakfast. Manu kissed her and talked casually about the work he expected to do today. Then he looked at her, and looked at her again.

"What?" she said.

"Is there something different about you?" Manu asked.

"What?" said Rowenka innocently.

"Different hair?"

"No."

"Different lipstick?"

"Not wearing lipstick."

Manu frowned. "Don't know."

"Then I guess it's your imagination," said Rowenka, a little disappointed. Hopefully he would notice tonight, when he was plowing into her. If he didn't, he would get a real slap in the face.

When she went to work, she started tabulating data. There had been a terrible hurricane off the coast of Florida, and she was checking the data to see if it was caused by Temperature Change. Temperature Change was usually the main culprit for hurricanes, as well as rain storms, drought, snow storms, and nearly all other weather conditions. Such things used to occur naturally, Rowenka was told, but now was all caused by the deleterious presence of womanandmankind.

As she was working, Dale Mastercard stopped by to say hello. He had been doing that for several days now, chatting casually for a few minutes at a time, just being friendly. Rowenka appreciated that because she hadn't really made any friends at work. Her boss Liam was friendly enough, but Rowenka was afraid if she got too casual with him, that he might ask her to Connect again.

"Hey, what's different today?" Dale asked.

"What do you mean? said Rowenka, smiling. She self consciously patted down her hair.

"There's something more...substantial to you," said Dale, grinning.

Rowenka smiled shyly, as she felt a warmth in her Global Tampon. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do," said Dale. He whispered, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. They don't have an eye for these things like I do."

"Oh, you have an eye for them," said Rowenka flirtatiously.

Why am I being flirtatious with another man?

, part of her wondered.

"I have an eye for things that stand out," said Dale.

Rowenka tittered. Her Global Tampon was positively vibrating inside her now.

"Your partner must be pleased," said Dale.

"I haven't, ah, shown them to him yet," Rowenka lied.

"Then he has a wonderful gift to unwrap, doesn't he?" said Dale.

Rowenka smiled at him. She loved the way he flirted. Manu was loving, but he never flirted like that. She smiled and tittered again.

********

"So, you decided to come to work after all," said Diana Class Struggle Enema. It was right after Fredrik had spent several hours at the Wellness Center seeking treatment for the blood coming out of his ass. He was wearing a Manpon now that kept it all plugged up.

"I have an important assignment for you, if you're not feeling too under the weather," Diana snickered. Diana was wearing tight pants which made her Chikdik especially prominent today. Fredrik had seen other women wearing Chikdiks, but somehow on Diana it made Fredrik feel emasculated.

She knew about my period! Did they all know?

Suddenly, Fredrik felt very conspicuous about bleeding from his ass. Was this how all women felt during their time of the month?

"I can work now, I'm fine," said Fredrik.

"Good," Diana said, without a smile. "I want you to write a story examining why ice cream tastes so good."

"I'm sorry?" Fredrik must have misheard.

Diana spoke more slowly, as if speaking to a retarded child. "Find out why ice cream tastes so good."

"Because it's made of sugar, and milk," said Fredrik.

"Are you talking back to me?" said Diana. Her Chikdik grew more prominent. Was that even possible?

"No," said Fredrik. "I'm just not sure-"

"Must I connect all the dots for you? Go out and interview people, and find out why they like ice cream."

"Of course," said Fredrik. "I'll get on it at once."

He left her office, feeling more than a little disappointed. His first story had been about the plans to rebuild the city of Houston. It had been a very important story that would affect a lot of people. That's the kind of stories he wanted to report on.

But a story about how ice cream tasted good? That was pure fluff. That was even more inconsequential than some of the stuff he used to write for the

West Coast News

.

Nevertheless, he dutifully went out and interviewed people, asking them why they liked ice cream. The answers were totally predictable, and boiled down to the same thing: "Because it tastes good!"

There really wasn't much to write, simply the reactions of a half dozen people. When he was done, he turned the article in to Diana. She called him to her office some time later.

"What is this?" she said, holding up a datapad. Presumably, it was his article.

"Did you do a genetic analysis of the people quoted in your story?" she asked.

"Noah," said Fredrik. "Should I have?"

"Collectively, 83% of the people you interviewed were white! What do you have to say for that?"

"Everyone is of such mixed ethnicity here, I didn't know-"

"All you had to do was run their names through the racial analyzer," said Diana.

"What's wrong with interviewing people who happened to be white?" Fredrik asked.

"All articles must have the proper racial, sexual, and gender representation," said Diana. "This isn't the old days when you could write an article and quote two bland white people and ignore the enormous societal damage you cause by disempowering historically underserved virtue identity groups. Do you know what would happen if we ran this article? There would be tremendous racial disharmony. There could even be riots in the street. And you could be the cause of it. Would you want that?"

"Noah," said Fredrik. "I'll go out and interview some others-"

"Don't bother," said Diana, with a wave of her hand. "I'll have Ted come up with some more diverse citizens, and we'll attribute the quotes to them."

"Won't they mind?" Fredrik asked. The quotes were all of a harmless nature, about ice cream, but fabricating quotes was unethical.

"Why would they object? It's all for the good of the Community," said Diana. "Don't worry, I'll fix your mess. But next time, try to do better."

Fredrik assured her that he would.

Over the next few days, Diana gave him more assignments that didn't seem to be very substantive.

His next job was to write a story entitled, "The top twenty things we all like about Ted."

After that, his next assignment was to write a story about whether people tended to get out of bed with their left foot or right foot first. (The answer: it depended on whether they swiveled left or right out of bed.)

And then he was told to survey the couches in the Unrest Rooms.

"Unrest Rooms?" said Fredrik. He had seen signs for them but didn't know what they were. "You mean the bathrooms?"

"You men, you're all the same," Diana sighed. "Your brains are all in your panties. Unrest Rooms, Fredrik, are where we go to make Connections."

"Connections?" said Fredrik.

"Sure. Let's say two coworkers want to take a Connection break. Where else would they go?"

"Ahh...."

"Ahhhh," said Diana, imitating him. "But many Unrest Rooms have different kinds of couches. Go and find out which ones are the most popular."

"Yew want me to go into those rooms... while people are having sex... and ask them questions?" Fredrik asked.

"Why not?" said Diana. "Of course, if this is too difficult for you, too complex, I can find someone else to do it. You can go back and sit at your desk, and and play bingo with Ted, or take a long Weed break, or pleasure yourself looking at holos of your partner."

"No, I can do it," said Fredrik, not liking how she put it.

Fredrik got to work. At first, he felt reluctant to go into the Unrest Rooms. He even made the mistake of starting with the Unrest Room by his office. Fredrik didn't realize that he might encounter people he knew there.

And sure enough, he saw his fellow journalist, Obama Yahoo, face down on a couch, while a large black man was plowing into him.

Fredrik started to hastily leave, when Obama saw him. "Hey, Fredrik, wait!"

Fredrik turned around.

"I want to introduce you to my partner, Michael Robinson," said Obama, seemingly totally unembarrassed to have someone watch while another man thrusted inside of him.

"Hello, how are you, I am fine," said Michael, the large black man. He pulled his large sex organ out of Obama's ass and extended his hand. His organ glistened with wetness in the spotlight above the couch.

"I didn't want to interrupt," said Fredrik, taking a step back.

"It's no interruption," Obama assured him. "Michael just came over on his lunch break. We're trying to have our first baby."

Baby?

"That's nice," said Fredrik. "I was just writing an article about the couches in the Unrest Rooms-"

"Really?" said Obama, sitting up. "I've always wondered about that!"

Fredrik proceeded to interview Obama and Michael about what they thought of the Unrest couch they were lying on, and what their favorite couches were. Michael seemed totally unembarrassed to sit there with a large, erect penis slathered in wetness and feces as Fredrik interviewed him.

Fredrik, having finished the interview as fast as humanly possible, went to two other unrest rooms, both outside the building, and interviewed other people having sex with each other.

Connecting

, they called it. They seemed totally unabashed to be caught in the act. Indeed, the Unrest Rooms were built that way, a series of couches in one, big open space where couples could watch each other, presumably for voyeuristic pleasure.

Fredrik found himself in the unreal situation of interviewing a woman with large breasts as she rode up and down on top her partner.

"Yeah, definitely, some couches are better than others," said Sally Demand Justice, her enormous breasts flopping wildly as she bounced up and down on top of her partner's organ. "What do you think, Owen?"

The man underneath her said, "I like the blue couches. They're more elegant looking."

"They are," said Sally, as she continued to move up and down. Her breasts seemed to move in every direction possible, and a few that didn't seem possible as well. "The red ones are nice too, the ones with the stuffed cushions."

"You liked them stuffed, don't you?" said Owen.

"I surely do," said Sally, looking into his eyes.

"I think I have all that I need," said Fredrik, hastily turning away. How could people be so nonchalant, so public about sex? Fredrik could never imagine performing publically with Laura. He shuddered at the thought. It was called

intimacy

for a reason. It was meant to be kept private.

When he got back to the office, he found a message from Madeline. She wanted to see him. Fredrik went to the lift, and started the trip upwards. While the elevator moved, he saw a holovideo in the air above him. This was happening all the time now.

In this holovideo, a man and a woman were having drinks at a bar. But the longer Fredrik looked at it, the longer he got the idea that the video was about something else entirely: about him and Madeline kissing!

Fredrik blinked and rubbed his eyes. The man and the woman in the video looked nothing like Madeline or himself. But as he stared at it again, something in his head gave him a different impression. He somehow saw himself, in Madeline's arms, kissing her passionately.

Fredrik got visibly excited. He had to calm down! He was still wearing his Global Tampon. His man period, in its fourth day, had changed from blood to an egg white kind of substance, which was still leaking out of his ass, forcing him to wear a Manpon. But he would be delighted to get rid of it the first chance he got.

Madeline would sense his feelings through the Manpon. He had to calm himself! He stopped looking at the holovideo, even as it moved with him as he glanced away.

Fredrik, feeling flustered, left the elevator when the door whooshed open, and made his way to Madeline's office.

She was working on something, but looked up and smiled at him when he came in.

"Fredrik. Come in," she said. He could see her crossing her legs under her desk. She was wearing sheer pantyhose and a black skirt. On top she was wearing a suit jacket over a blood red satin shirt.

"I haven't seen you in a few days," she said.

Since I started bleeding out of my ass with tremendous embarrassment

, Fredrik thought.

"How have you been doing?" she asked.

Fredrik told her about the assignments he had been given. When he got to explaining about the Unrest Room interviews, he got a little flustered.

Madeline got up and gracefully took off her suit jacket. Fredrik could clearly see the outlines of her heavy breasts under her tight shirt. She walked around to the front of the desk and sat on the edge of it, giving him an excellent view of her upper thighs and the small but prominent bulge of her chikdik.

"There's nothing to be anxious about," said Madeline. "In the Community, Connecting is not a shameful or embarrassing thing."

"You call it Connecting, but we call it sex," said Fredrik.

"It is sex," Madeline said, smiling at him. She got up off the desk and went behind Fredrik, and started to rub his shoulders. "It is sex, but it also about something else. Something bigger. About building a Connection."

"A Connection?"

"To bring Oneness. To bring togetherness. To bring us closer to the Global Flesh. To create a more perfect, self-aware Community," said Madeline, straying a bit to rub his chest. She noticed he didn't object. "Connection isn't always about sex. Just look at you and me right now. We're Connecting, in a way, just by my massaging you a bit right now."

"We are?" said Fredrik.

Madeline moved around to face him, but never stopped rubbing his chest, lingering on his nipples through his thin shirt. She looked into his eyes. "Don't you feel a Connection?"

Fredrik's heart was racing. He couldn't have hid his feelings, even if he hadn't had one of those awful Global Tampons plugged into his ass. He thought Madeline was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, which shamed him, because Laura was supposed to be that person.

Madeline smiled, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Then she took her hand away, and smoothed her skirt between her legs, her fingers straying for a split second as if stroking her Chikdik. "I'm feeling something right now which definitely tells me what's going on inside you, Fredrik. A feeling of... warmth. Is that right, Fredrik?"

Fredrik turned red. It wasn't just warmth that Fredrik felt radiating from his Global Tampon.

It was

lust

.

"Oh, I've embarrassed you," said Madeline, smiling sweetly at him.

"Noah, noah, it's just... it's oll new, oll so new to me," said Fredrik.

"Well, of course, you just need time to adjust," said Madeline, in a slightly patronizing tone. She looked at him wth deep eyes, and changed the subject. "I've been monitoring your work. I get the impression that you're not fully enjoying your assignments."

"Now, where did yew get that impression?" said Fredrik, licking his lips uneasily.

Madeline smiled. "It wasn't difficult. You're very easy to read, Fredrik." She cast a glance down at his groin. Fredrik was reminded how the Global Tampon embedded in his ass was still transmitting his feelings to her. He

had

to get himself under control.

He blushed again.

"Oh dear, I've embarrassed you again!" said Madeline. "You are so darling," she added, putting her hand over his, which only inflamed him further. "You know, I might be able to use my influence to get you more substantial reporting assignments, if you're interested."

"You could?," said Fredrik.

"I could," said Madeline, her eyes sparkling as she licked her lips, mere inches from his own. "But...."

"But whot?"

"You would have to ask." Those dark eyes stared into his.

Fredrik thought rapidly. He

hated

the vapid assignments he had been given. But to ask Madeline for a favor...

"Yes, oll right," he said.

"Yes, all right, what?" said Madeline, running a casual finger down the side of his chair. She was no longer touching him. But she might as well have been. She was so sexy, merely watching her touch a chair was erotic. Because they both knew what she really wanted to be doing with her hand. With her soft, feminine touch.

She smiled at him. She wanted him to say it.

"Madeline, would yew... would yew help me get some othar... things to do," Fredrik asked.

"You want other things to do?" she teased, making him blush.

She always did that! She always talked in double meanings! It infuriated and excited Fredrik tremendously.

"I'd lyke to have othar kinds of articles to wryte," said Fredrik.

Madeline stood back and smiled, as if she had accomplished something significant. She had made Fredrik ask a favor of her. She had made him indebted to her, even in a small way. It was a beginning. Satisfied, she smoothed her skirt again, self-consciously enjoying the feeling of her hands on her legs and his eyes on her Chikdik and her legs as she said, "Why of course, Fredrik." She looked him closely in the eyes. "All you had to do was ask."

Fredrik felt excited, but also felt something else, a sublte change in his relationship with Madeline. A subtle kind of... connection.

And now he was in her debt.

She smiled as he left, looking very, very pleased with herself.

********

"A masterpiece."

"Do you think so? Really?" said Laura.

"Definitely," said Mary Elizabeth Coca Cola. She was looking at Laura's latest work, a montage of random lines, squares, circles, and wild scribblings. All that was missing to make it truly profound were monkey prints.

"It speaks to me," said Mary Elizabeth excitedly.

"What does it say to yew?" Laura asked eagerly.

Mary Elizabeth studied it. "It has a lot to say about racism. It has a lot to say about sexism. About classism, the environment. About social justice, and the need for Oneness."

"Really?" said Laura, looking hard at her own painting. "I didn't exactly consciously-"

"That doesn't matter," Mary Elizabeth interrupted. She turned to face Laura. Laura couldn't help but notice Mary Elizabeth's full breasts, straining at the thin material of her super tight white shirt. "It was within you. I knew there was something special about you, from the first moment I saw you."