VIR-AMA:  The Beginning
by Marknew742@aol.com
The virus develops and spreads, while five teens spend a summer in the Rockies


Prologue:  Part 1

It may never have happened if not for Viagra.

Pfizer, of course, was raking in huge profits because of Viagra.  All
over the world, men were paying $10 for each erection.  Sure they'd
probably have gotten hard all by themselves, but it was like buying
insurance.  Sometimes they'd blow $50 a night, becoming the kind of
sexual athlete they and all of their friends always bragged to be.
After all, it was still a fraction of the price they'd paid for coke ten
years ago, when money was harder to come by.   And if they were clever
enough, they could even get their medical plan to pay for it.

This was too much for Dr. Harold Swensen to swallow.  He had once been a
rising star at Pfizer, when genetic engineering seemed to be the next
rage.  Dr. Swensen had developed unique methods to create viruses that
infected the human body, but, instead of causing disease and death, they
would deliver beneficial drugs directly to the areas where they were
needed.  Sadly, political opposition to "created life forms" started
building, and at the age of 53 Pfizer let him go as part of a program to
devote its resources to popular "lifestyle" drugs, like Viagra.  The
timing was bad for Swensen.  His job ended just before his pension fully
vested.  What's more, when Pfizer terminated him his stock options,
which would have made him a millionaire several times over, lapsed.  He
sued, but after legal fees consumed his severance package and more, he
had to accept a paltry settlement.  There was nothing left for him but
revenge.

Dr. Swensen started an active correspondence with everyone who hated
Pfizer.  Most were religious cranks, natural food enthusiasts, and tree
huggers who thought lifestyle drugs were simply immoral and wanted to
ban Viagra.  Dr. Swensen was happy to let them try and sent them his
best wishes, but he had no taste for lobbying politicians or getting
signatures for petitions.  He seemed to have no options, and was looking
forward to a bitter and impoverished future.

One day Dr. Swensen received an intriguing letter from another
scientist, Dr. Vivian Guynes, who wanted to meet him to discuss a matter
of common interest.  She sent him a ticket to Aspen and they met for
lunch at a quiet French restaurant on the outskirts of town.  Dr. Guynes
was exactly what he expected.  She was almost as tall as he but thin as
a rail, with small breasts and dull brown hair, wrapped carelessly in a
pony tail.  She dressed with complete indifference to her appearance,
the lapel of her beige jacket still stained with last month's salad
dressing.  But Dr. Swensen didn't mind at all.  He liked her message.
She objected to Viagra on some vague feminist grounds and told him she
had funding for a project that would drive Viagra from the market.  She
had developed a substance that would counteract Viagra but needed a way
to spread it throughout the population.  She'd heard of Swensen's work
and asked whether he could create a virus that modified the body's
endocrine system to produce the Viagra-blocking enzyme.  Viagra would be
destroyed, because all humanity would have become immune to its effects. 
He liked the idea and agreed to try.

Dr. Guynes had access to a laboratory at a women's college in the Rocky
Mountains, and slowly she and Dr. Swensen assembled a team of highly
skilled scientists to work on the project.  They worked in splendid
isolation.  It was almost like being a graduate student again, the sense
of shared purpose, the excitement of discovery.  Dr. Guynes seemed to
encourage their work, even when it seemed peripheral to the anti-Viagra
project.  Eventually, under Dr. Swensen the group made break-through
discoveries that enabled them to create viruses that could produce a
large variety of chemicals.  And, directly relevant to the anti-Viagra
project, they learned how to make viruses that would affect only males
producing significant levels of hormones.

A crucial debate ensued over the best virus that would deliver the anti-
Viagra enzyme.  Dr. Swensen favored a variant of the common cold, but
Dr. Guynes decided they would add the anti-Viagra substance to the
influenza virus, as its adaptability would minimize the chances of
resistance and maximize its spread throughout the population.  Dr.
Swensen voiced concerns about modifying a virus that had historically
killed millions of people and for which there was no effective vaccine.
His concerns grew even stronger when one of the scientists successfully
modified the influenza virus to increase its rate of mutation, making
existing vaccines and natural resistance even less effective, while
stabilizing the anti-Viagra elements of the virus.  He met with Dr.
Guynes late one night to voice his objections, but she dismissed them
casually.  He continued, growing more and more angry.  Cooly, she told
him he was removed from the project.  His security access would
immediately be revoked and his possessions would be taken from his room
at the compound in fifteen minutes.  Enraged, he threatened to reveal
the project's plans and close it down.  Dr. Guynes pressed a concealed
button under her desk.

Dr. Swensen was never seen again.

Despite the loss of one of its key scientists, the project was now on a
short path to completion.  The team looked forward to the celebration
party at a nearby bar, after which they would all go to the lab and the
virus would be released into the atmosphere.  The party went on for some
time before they realized that Dr. Guynes was missing.  She did not
respond to their pages, so the group decided it was time to meet at the
lab for the release.  Surely she would not miss the key event.  But when
they arrived, all they found was an empty building.  All their
equipment, notes, computers and samples were gone.  Dr. Guynes was
missing too and her absence led to fevered suspicion and speculation.
As they argued amongst themselves, one by one, all of the male
scientists became violently ill.  When they were found the next morning,
all had a severe case of the flu.  More worrying, they were all
suffering from severe dementia from which they never recovered.


Prologue:  Part 2

The next day, Dr. Guynes was sitting in a large den with several other
women.  Their nervous anticipation heated the room, despite the frigid
January winds.

"The tests were completely successful, as was Project Party. I now have
control of the technology," Dr. Guynes reported, "and the male members
of the project team are neutralized.  Phase 2 has begun."

"I can't believe it!  I never dreamed you would come so far!" squealed
Amanda Rogers and clapped her hands, her large, unbound breasts swinging
freely with her enthusiasm.  The other women raised their eyes.
Amanda's childlike speech and vivid emotions annoyed them, as did her
California blond hair and beach bimbo figure, but she had been very
generous with her money and they sorely needed her large house to house
the new laboratory and production facilities.  Not a few wondered about
how she'd amassed such a fortune in business, but they knew little of
the commercial world and dismissed Amanda as a beneficiary of random
luck.

"I don't understand why you've liquidated your research team.  All
you've done is create the camouflage.  What about VIR-AMA,"  Lydia
Magnusdottir asked severely in her monophonic contralto, her lips pursed
in their usual pout.  She stood up to emphasize the point.  The other
women nodded, their faces serious as they craned their necks to follow
her.  Lydia chaired the political wing of their group and maintained
contact with the outside organizations, cleverly securing funding
without explaining the details of the project.  She was tall, almost six
foot one, and had long, striking blond hair, which hung almost to her
waist.  Her impeccably tailored outfits revealed little of her figure
and her round glasses almost hid the high-cheekboned symmetry of her
face.  She always kept herself coldly aloof.

"I won't need any," Dr. Guynes replied evenly.  "The VIR-AGRA virus will
itself produce VIR-AMA."  She took note of the sudden quiet and went on. 
"VIR-AGRA will be released into the general population.  The CDC will
quickly spot it, prepare their vaccine and immunize most of the
population, at least in the developed world.  The CDC will declare
victory, and it will never spread among the general population."  She
smiled.  "Unfortunately, however, there will be an unexpected byproduct
of the interaction between the vaccine and VIR-AGRA, and the virus will
'mutate' into a new strain of flu, with irreversible effects."

For once, Lydia had no reply.  Meanwhile, Amanda's face exploded in joy,
like a five year old who has just been given a new bike.  "Yay!" she
shouted, jumping up and down and raising her fists into the air, as if
she were leading a cheer.  "We're on our way!"  Even Lydia had to smile,
with just the barest hint of condescension.


Prologue:  Part 3

Dr. Carson Barnes studied the weekly disease reports carefully.  A new
strain of penicillin-resistant syphilis had appeared in Houston and
would have to be monitored, and resistant Tuberculosis was now spreading
to smaller cities in the Midwest.  He would have to send his team to
Missouri and Kansas to educate local physicians on the systems the CDC
had developed to ensure patients finish their drug regimens.  A new
strain of influenza appeared simultaneously in Denver, Salt Lake City
and Phoenix.  That was odd.  New viruses rarely appeared so late in the
winter.  He frowned.  He'd probably have to add it to this year's mix
for vaccines.  It was an unusual strain; there was unlikely to be much
resistance to it and it was too late to do extensive testing.  He
forwarded a note to the industry suppliers, sighing as he added the U.S.
governmental indemnity clause the drug companies would require for
accelerated production.  He would send a team to investigate the
outbreak.

Elsewhere, the marketing director for Viagra, now the second most
powerful man at Pfizer, noticed an unusual pattern for sales -- a rapid
falling off for demand for his product in Colorado, Utah and Arizona, an
area that had previously had the highest per capita use of the product.
He scanned recent correspondence.  Sure enough, there were an increasing
number of complaints of ineffectiveness of the product.  Then he spotted
a pattern.  Many stated they had just gotten over the flu.  They were
probably simply too sick to have sex and blamed the result on Viagra.
He'd send out a few more free samples to local doctors.  That would keep
demand high, if they didn't use it themselves, he chuckled.


1

Carolyn Fitzgerald was excited about the summer.  She and her eighteen-
year old sister, Debra, would be staying at their uncle's house just
outside Aspen for six weeks.  There would be no skiing, of course, but
in a week it would be Blossom Day, the official beginning of summer, and
there would be plenty of hiking, swimming and tennis, and parties and
concerts and other things at night.  Uncle Arnie made arrangements for
horseback riding twice a week, but he and Aunt Marie were so busy they'd
be left on their own practically all the time.  Best of all, she just
found out that the family renting the house next door included three
cute guys, aged, 19, 18 and 16, whom they were just bound to run into
every day.  She ran to tell Debra, who was tanning herself on the lawn.

"Did you see them drive up?"

Debra tried to look cool, then broke into a smile and nodded vigorously. 
"I like the middle one.  He's got the cutest buns.  He looks nice."

"That's Bert.  The really big one is Bret.  I heard he's going to play
football at UCLA.  The youngest is Bart."  She wrinkled her nose.  "It's
so silly to give them names like that.  They must always be getting
confused."

"Well, WE won't confuse them, will we, Carolyn?  Just so we don't fight,
let's agree in advance: Bert is mine."

Carolyn looked disappointed for a second.  She liked Bert too, but then
she brightened.  "O.K.  If I can have Bart AND Bret!"

"Deal!"  They both giggled.  Carolyn climbed onto the sun chair next to
Debra.  She wished she were eighteen too, with the extra two years of
development Debra had on her.  Debra had such round breasts and luscious
legs, while Carolyn was still a bit gawky, her chest and hips not having
caught up with the growth of her arms and legs.  But she knew she had a
nice face and thicker, blonder hair, and she was already as tall as
Debra.  She figured the rest of her figure would come in soon.  In the
just the last couple of months her legs were finally starting to acquire
some shape, even if it all seemed to be muscle. Debra was the smart one
and was so good-looking, but Carolyn had always been the better athlete,
and she could regularly beat her sister in almost any game, especially
tickle-wrestling, a Fitzgerald family favorite.  She loved her sister
and hoped that she wouldn't lose Debra as a friend when her sister got
close to a guy.  Suddenly they heard voices.  They quickly moved the
chairs where they boys would seem them as they explored the yard in back
of their house.

"I can't believe we have to stay out here!  What a dump!"  Bret said
grumpily.

"It's not so bad.  We have a pool here, and a tennis court," Bart
argued.

"Dad's being such a wimp.  I never get the flu.  I'd rather be home in
LA, with my friends," Bret replied.

"Me too!" agreed Bert.

As they got to the end of the brick wall, they noticed Debra and Carolyn
in the yard next door.  Bert waved, then started walking toward them,
but Bart stood in front to keep them back.  "Bert!  We can't.  We're not
supposed to talk to anybody.  Dad said!"

"You're crazy if you think I'm going stay in our yard all summer!" said
Bret.

"But guys, it's just until Dad finds out more about the flu.  You saw
what happened after he got sick.  He said even when he got over it he
still couldn't even drive the ball more than 150 yards.  He used to do
200."

Bret folded his arms.  "Dad's a total hypochondriac, Bart.  If you don't
know that by now, you never will.  Remember when he thought he had a
heart attack and he just had to burp?  Or when he got a cut on his leg
and we had to spend the day at the Emergency Room?"

"This is different!  It's not just Dad!  It's happened to all kinds of
guys, like Ken Griffey.  They say he'll never play again.  He's just not
the same.  He's got no bat speed at all.  Even when he hits it, it's
just singles and stuff."

"He doesn't look great, that's for sure," agreed Bert.  "I read he lost
almost thirty pounds."

"It's been in the newspapers.  It only infects men and there's no cure."

"Yeah, well I don't read that part of the paper, Bart.  But anyway, so
maybe a few guys are getting sick.  As far as I'm concerned, if it makes
a bunch of men into wimps, that's fine with me.  Less competition for
chicks."

"Big man, Bret!  What if you get it?"  Then what'll you do?  You won't
be playing football this fall, that's for sure."

"I'm not going to get it.  I've never gotten the flu.  I must be immune
or something.  Hey, if you guys want to stay inside all summer and watch
TV, fine.  I'm going to check out those girls over there.  You coming,
Bert?"

Bert looked at Bart, then at Bret, then peered over at the sunbathing
Fitzgerald girls.  They certainly did merit a closer look, especially
the one with the tits.  "Well, I usually don't the flu either.  I'm
going."

Bart watched his brothers in dismay as they walked off.  He didn't want
to be left behind, though, so he ran to catch up.

"Hi," Bret said.  "Can we come over?"

"Sure!" Carolyn said quickly, giggling a little as Bret hopped the
fence.  He WAS big.  His tight-fitting shirt showed off all of his
muscles clearly.  Carolyn wondered what it would feel like, snuggling
against a boy who was so big and strong.  But he was looking at Debra.
It figured.  Carolyn tugged at the top of her bikini to show a little
more skin, but she knew she couldn't compete with her sister, who
casually shifted her position in her seat, immediately setting off an
attention-getting bobble of movement in the top half of her suit.  Show
off!

"I'm Carolyn, and this is my sister, Debra."

Bert and Bart introduced themselves too.  They were all quiet for a
minute.

"Are you here for the summer?" Bret asked.

"Uh-huh.  Until school starts.  Do you want something to drink or
something?  I mean, you know, some Coke or lemonade?"  Carolyn didn't
really want to leave Debra alone with them, but there were three.  She
may as well let them be.  Someone would surely notice her when she came
back.

Debra, meanwhile was looking at Bert.  "Have you ever been to Aspen
before?"

"No.  We usually ski around Tahoe or go down to Hawaii for vacations.
But Dad wanted us to come here.  Because of that new flu."

"Oh.  He's afraid you'll get it?"

"Dad's a real wimp," Bret interrupted.  "He got sick and now he's all
paranoid.  He made Bert and Bart miss the end of school.  But I figure
we can find a few things to do even around here.  So, what do you girls
like to do for fun?" he said, not a little suggestively.

"Oh, there's plenty to do around here," Debra answered coolly.  She
already knew she didn't like Bret.  He seemed like a show-off and he was
staring at her breasts too much.  She crossed her arms over them and
tried again to get Bert to talk.  "Do you like to swim?"

"Yeah, and there's a pool at our house.  But I guess you know that."

"It's a nice one, half-Olympic sized, and heated.  Maybe we could use it
some time," Debra said, encouragingly.

"You have a nice tennis court too," Carolyn added, handing out the
drinks to everyone but Bart, who was standing about ten feet away near a
serving table.  "I love tennis.  Do any of you play?"

Bret snorted.  "Yeah, but you'd get killed."

"Carolyn's a very good player.  She was second All-State this year,"
Debra said, an edge in her voice.

"I'll play you," offered Bart.  "I'm not as good as Bret, but it would
be fun."

"Great!  You know, you can come closer.  We don't bite."

"That's O.K."

"He's afraid of getting the flu," smirked Bret.

"But we're not sick!" said Carolyn.  She bit her lip.  She didn't want
to make fun of Bart.  "But it's O.K.  I mean, I understand.  But how
about tennis?"

"That would be fun," agreed Bart.

Bret yawned.  "I'll play the winner, after I get some sun."  He took off
his shirt, showing off his well-muscled chest, and moved next to Debra
to occupy Carolyn's chair.

Debra jumped up.  "I think it's time for a swim," she said, appealing to
Bert, who nodded in agreement.

Bret looked annoyed, but didn't want to look too eager.  "Fine.  I'll
just stay here and finish my Coke in the sun.  I'll join you kids
later," he added condescendingly.


2

Bert looked at Debra for the twentieth time.  "You are so beautiful.  I
can't believe I'm here with you."  She smiled at him and uncrossed her
bare legs.  He reached over and caressed her breasts, his hand gently
cupping them.  "You know, they're even larger than I expected, and so
round and soft.  If I were you, I would be touching myself all day
long."

"So you were thinking about my breasts a lot before tonight?"  She
laughed.  "It's a good thing I'm not jealous of my own breasts."

Bert blushed.  "Do you like my body too?" Bert asked.

"Of course.  Don't be silly!"  She traced her hand along his bare chest,
over his shoulder and down his arm.  "It's perfect."

"I always figure girls would like Bret better."

"Some girls do like that kind of body.  I think Carolyn does.  But
that's not what's most important to me.  I think you're very
interesting, and special. I feel very lucky you're spending the summer
here, thanks to the Rome Flu."

"Me too.  I guess good things come with the bad."  He held her, feeling
how neatly her body fit inside his arms, except for her breasts, of
course, which overflowed whatever tried to contain them.  What fabulous
breasts she had.


3

Amanda looked down at her arms and pouted.  Her muscles, if she had
them, wouldn't be visible anyway under the loose sleeves of her blouse,
but she was clearly unhappy.  "It's not big enough!" she complained.  "I
want to be strong, but I'm still just a weak little girl!  The bottoms
of my arms jiggle just like before!" she complained loudly.

Dr. Guynes sighed, having explained it all to her before.  "Please,
Amanda, try to understand.  This isn't a magic potion.  The virus alters
the receptors in your pituitary gland to simulate muscle growth, but it
isn't a steroid pill.  If you want that kind of growth, you'll have to
go somewhere else."

"No!  That's not true!" she said, her high-pitched voice keening ever
higher.  "You made other viruses that work better.  Why are you using
this one?"

Lydia raised her eyebrow.  She hadn't read the turgid scientific prose
in Dr. Guynes's report herself.  Although she was aware that Dr. Guynes
had developed other viruses, she had assumed that Dr. Guynes had simply
picked the best one.  She listened more closely.

"VIR-AMA XR75355 presented the optimal profile in terms of stability,
mutagenicity and infectious capabilities.  It produces only a mild
influenza, increasing the likelihood of maximal spread and minimizing
mortality risk.  And it is a close cousin of VIR-AGRA, which provided us
with a vector for infection that can be blamed entirely on the large
drug companies and the haste of the federal government.  It is a perfect
virus."

Amanda could hardly contain herself.  "But its transitive muscularity
effect is only 20% of VIR-AMA YR32590!"

Jaws dropped around the room.  Amanda blushed.  "I mean, you didn't use
the one that makes us really, really strong."

Lydia cleared her throat.  "I am surprised, Dr. Guynes, that you did not
bring this to our attention.  We were unaware of that you had developed
other alternatives."

"VIR-AMA XR75355 clearly met the committee's criteria.  The other viral
strains had significant potentials of negative outcomes.  VIR-AMA
YR32590 does have a more potent transitive muscularity effect, but you
must recall that this effect arises only in cases of direct infection
with the virus, which will not occur in nature, as women are naturally
resistant.  Moreover, its reverse effect on men is equally extreme, and
the carrier virus could produce a massive, deadly epidemic.  In fact,
the strain Amanda referred to," shooting her a look that combined
annoyance with surprise, "could lead to the deaths of most or all of the
male population.  That is not our intention. "

"Of course not," agreed Lydia.  "Still, this should have been a matter
for committee discussion."

"It's all in my report.  I assume you all read it and agreed with my
conclusions."

The women all looked down at the floor, sneaking admiring looks at
Amanda, who blushed again and then asked, "would any of you girls like
some coffee?"  They all nodded.  "I'll make some after I go tinkle."
She stood up and walked quietly out of the room.

"Notwithstanding Amanda's remark, I admit that I didn't understand all
of the implications of your report,"  Lydia said.

"Then I'll spell it out simply.  The virus I released will, over time,
equalize the muscularity of men and women, so that the mean strength of
each should be the same.  Men who have suffered from the disease will
lose about 20% of their muscle and will be virtually unable to increase
their strength with exercise, even to return to former levels.  Women
will not be symptomatically infected, as the virus was designed only to
infect mature males, but they will be carriers and the compounds created
by the virus will interact with their hormones and enable them to build
muscle somewhat more easily.  Within two to three years, athletic women
will be able to compete almost evenly with athletic men who have not
been infected, although only very, very few could attain the level of
muscularity of a male bodybuilder or football player.  Of course those
men who were infected will become relatively weak, but they will not be
incapacitated.  They will simply have to find other, less strenuous
work."  She smiled.  "Isn't this what we were trying to do?"

They all nodded, reluctantly, still wanting to hear more about the
viruses that would have more dramatic effects.  Joanie Michael
tentatively raised her hand.  "But you're saying that most men will
still be stronger than most women.  It sounds like we're only equal when
you average in the very weak ones.  Can't you develop a virus that helps
women more or makes all men weaker?  That's what we really want!"

"Give me a hundred years and a trillion dollars and I could probably
create anything, now that I have Dr. Swensen's discoveries under my
control.  But we don't have infinite resources, and the longer we wait,
the greater the chance that someone will discover us and shut us down.
We have something now that will slowly change the world so that we'll
nearly be equal and I think that's a success!"

Lydia sighed.  "I too would have liked to have seen more transformation,
but I trust Dr. Guynes's judgment on this matter.  But there is
something else we must discuss."

Almost on cue, Amanda reentered the room, carrying a tray with six cups
of coffee.  "Now, Lydia, you like yours black.  Vivian, black with
sugar.  Joanie, lots of milk.  Carla, milk and sugar.  Minette, two and
a half teaspoons of cream and four brown sugar cubes.  Tsk! Tsk!  And
here's my Blueberry tea!  Oh, did I interrupt you girls?"

Lydia gave Dr. Guynes a severe look, put her coffee down and spoke
first.  "So, you've been doing a lot of reading, haven't you Amanda?"

"Oh yes!  I love to read.  I just can't help myself!  I read all the
time."  She pointed to the bookshelves filed with Reader's Digest
Condensed Novels and grinned.

"That's not what I'm referring to.  I meant Dr. Guynes's report."

"You gave all of us the report.  Weren't we supposed to read it?"

Half of the women blushed and nervously drank their coffee, except for
Lydia who was staring at Amanda so intently that she didn't even look at
it.

Lydia cleared her throat.  "We're just surprised, Amanda, that you
understood it so well, so much better than the rest of us.  It's, uh,
not consistent with your, uh, level of participation in our project.  In
fact, I think you've been putting on a little act for us.  I don't think
it's appropriate that you attend our meetings until you satisfy us that
you are who you say you are."

"But you can't keep me out!  This is my house, isn't it?"  She looked
around the room, but no one defended her.

"We appreciate your support, Amanda, but you have no special rights on
our committee.  Now, will you be honest with us, or must we ask you to
leave?"

"Well!  I think you're being very mean, but I have plenty of other
things to do. Tomorrow's Blossom Day, and this year I have to distribute
the flowers!  So if you want to talk by yourselves for awhile then you
go right ahead.  I know when I'm not wanted!"  She stood up.  "I hope
you all liked the coffee."  A couple of the women smiled and drank more. 
Amanda shrugged and left.  The women heard her in the back, loading her
truck with flower pots.

Dr. Guynes put her hand to her head.  "I have a huge headache, all of a
sudden."

Joanie slumped over, as did Minette and Carla.

"The coffee, she's --" Vivian yelled, with horror.  Except for Lydia's,
their cups were all empty.  Her face reddened.  She tried to speak but
couldn't.  Lydia stood up, looking around her at the other women, inert
on the floor.

Amanda peeked inside.  "Looks like the coffee wasn't fresh enough,
Lydia."

"You poisoned them!"

Amanda nodded.  "Yes.  I guess so.  Well, I knew you all didn't like me. 
I'm not political enough for you.  Well, you're wrong you know.  You're
wrong about me.  You want to know a little bit about me?  O.K.  I'm a
businesswoman.  I sold perfumes and body oils in Santa Monica for years
in a little stall on the beach.  I did what I had to do to make it work. 
One day I had a stall, the next I had a little store on the road, then a
couple in a some malls, then a chain, and before you knew it I went
national.  Then I got bought out.  Two hundred million bucks.  I'm not
stupid.  I know a lot about fragrance, and I learned about chemistry,
biology.  It helped business, you know.  That's why I could read Dr.
Guynes's report.  But I also learned that nobody likes a smart woman, or
a rich one, unless they figure they're gonna take your money for
themselves.  It's not fair and it made me mad, but that's the way the
world is and I did what I had to do.  But having a lot of money wasn't
enough for me.  I hate investing.  I wasn't going to sit around and
drink coffee.  I missed running things.  So when I met Joanie here, and
Minette, and they told me just a little bit about your group, I thought,
hey this might be interesting.  It wasn't too hard to invent a little
feminist history for myself, back in California.  I still have a lot of
friends who want to do me favors."

"So you admit it!  That does it!  You're finished, Amanda.
Immediately."

"No, Lydia.  You are.  I'm taking over."  She walked a little closer,
looking up to the group leader, and put her hands on her hips.  "The
lab, the viruses, they're all mine now.  They've been mine for days --
so convenient locating it in my own house -- but now I need complete
control."

"You, you.  I can't believe we trusted you.  Don't provoke me.  I have a
black belt in karate, and I'm not afraid to use it to protect our
movement."  She lashed out at Amanda with a solid kick at her abdomen,
but Amanda spun away, doing a cartwheel across the room and landing on
her feet in a fighting position.  "Hmmph!  I see you've had some
training too."

"Yes, Lydia.  A little. It helped dealing with the creeps who'd hang
around.  But I have another advantage too."  She twirled, advancing on
Lydia in a blur and hit her twice with rabbit punches that blitzed right
through Lydia's defenses and knocked her backwards.  "The bigger they
are," she taunted, grabbing Lydia's leg as the tall blond tried to
counterattack with another kick, "the harder they fall," pulling it into
the air and toppling a shocked Lydia painfully onto the rug.  Without
wasting a moment, she twisted Lydia's leg backwards with a cruel smile,
her lip curling with satisfaction at the loud crack of her shin bone
breaking.

"Aaggh!" Lydia cried, her eyes wide with pain and surprise.

"Your black belt won't do you much good now, will it honey?"  She
reached down for Lydia's other leg and held her ankle. "Such large feet,
Lydia.  I can barely get my little hand around it."  Amanda grit her
teeth and started squeezing.  Lydia screamed in pain and her eyes lit up
in fear.  "It's pretty strong though.  I'll let up just a minute,
because I want your full attention.  You just have to see this."

Lydia gasped as Amanda relaxed her grip slightly, but then, as Amanda
held on to Lydia's ankle to use as a grip, Lydia's eyes opened even
wider.  Amanda's silk blouse, its plentiful, beige, sheer fabric draped
loosely around her arm, slowly began to rise and tighten.  Through the
fabric, Lydia could see a thick muscle, relentlessly expanding, first
rising uniformly, then developing a thick peak that fully extended the
sleeve, which tented a full four inches above the plane of her arm.
Amanda grinned and tensed her hand around Lydia's ankle more tightly,
the effort making her biceps press harder against the silk, stretching
tightly, molding it to the shape of a towering muscle.

"It's already 20 inches around, and I first infected myself with VIR-AMA
YR32590 just six weeks ago.  Pretty good for a girl who never worked
with weights before!"  Lydia groaned.  "Poor Lydia."  Amanda squeezed
harder and Lydia screamed again, her ankle bone cracking.  "I think my
muscles are even more powerful than they look.  I don't think any man
could crush a bone with one hand.  But soon there won't be a woman who
can't."  She took out a small purple perfume bottle and sprayed it into
the air, the spray falling on Lydia and filling the room with a sharp
blueberry scent.  "Do you like it?  I call it FlewBerry.  It's in the
hands of my agents all across the country, and in Canada, Europe and
Hong Kong.  My marketing sense tells me men will find it too strong, but
women will just love it.  What do you think?"

"You're crazy!  Didn't you hear what Dr. Guynes said?" Lydia croaked.
"If that virus escapes, it could kill every man on the planet!"

"It could?  I doubt it.  I've read a lot about epidemics.  Even the
worst don't destroy entire populations.  There are always a few who have
greater resistance.  But if it makes you queasy, Lydia, don't worry.
You won't have to live through it."  She picked up her foot and slammed
it down onto Lydia's chest, breaking through her ribcage and crushing
her heart with one mighty stomp.  Lydia gurgled, blood filling her
mouth, and died.

Amanda took the arms of the five women and dragged them quickly to the
secluded yard of the property.  She enjoyed digging, reveling in the
power her arms possessed, and how quickly and tirelessly she could break
through the hard soil and pry out the boulders.  Soon she was ready to
throw the five soft female bodies into the deep hole, and covered them
with dirt and the rocks.

Then it was quiet, except for the sound of Amanda's pickup truck, laden
with fragrant blossoms, moving slowly down the gravel drive.  All had
been freshly sprayed with FlewBerry and were certain to make this
Blossom Day one for the history books.


4

"Aren't those flowers nice?  It's Blossom Day here and they give them
out free this morning.  Smell them!"  Carolyn said, inhaling them
deeply.

Bart bent over the flowers, which were in a vase on the table.  "Very
nice."  He stood next to her and put his arm around her shoulder,
squeezing it a little.  "I really like you, Carolyn, even if you did
beat me yesterday," he added, joking.

"You're still ahead, four sets to two but I won't be satisfied until I'm
winning!"  She replied happily, then her expression changed.  "You don't
mind, do you?" she asked, less confidently.  "I mean, you don't think
I'm too competitive?  You know, Debra says boys don't like losing to
girls."

"Don't be silly.  I like playing with you.  I'd hate it if you 'let' me
win.  Besides, I still can beat you, even if you're the second best girl
in the State."

"Well, you are bigger and stronger than me.  I can hardly hit your
serve."

"You have a pretty good serve too, especially for a girl," he replied,
encouragingly.

"It's gotten better in the last few months, since I've been training
harder.  See?  I even have a little muscle now."  She flexed her arm,
showing a narrow tightening of her biceps.

"Oh wow," Bart said, a little sarcastically.  "I'm scared!"

"Cut it out!" Carolyn grinning, butting him with her hip.  "I never used
to have anything there at all.  I'm not a boy, you know!"

"I know!" he said, smiling, and put his arms around her to hold her.
"And am I glad!"  He kissed her.

"Me too!" she agreed and held him tightly.  She leaned closer and raised
her head slightly to kiss him on the lips.  It was nice that he was only
an inch taller than she was.  It made it easy to reach him.  "Mmmm.
That's nice."  She listened to Bart sigh.  He was nice, a lot more so
than Bret.  Thinking about him made her feel all cold and hard, and she
pulled away.

"What's wrong?  Did I bite your tongue again?" Bart asked nervously.

"No."

"You're not sorry about, you know, last night?"

"No, silly.  I liked doing it to you!  Especially when you started
screaming!  It's just ... I'm sorry.  I was just thinking about Bret
again.  It made me mad for a second."

"You're not mad at me, I mean, because of him, are you?"

"Uh-uh.  No, you silly.  It's just -- he scared me.  And he's so strong
too!  I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't turned up."

"Yeah, well, Bret can be kind of a jerk sometimes," he agreed
reluctantly.  "I guess sometimes he doesn't really know what he's
doing."

"He knew exactly what he was doing," Carolyn replied angrily.  "I mean,
he almost raped me," she added.  "I couldn't do anything to stop him.
He had one hand in my blouse and the other down my pants.  He just
wouldn't listen!"  Her face got red.  "But you stood up to him.  My
hero!"  She smiled at Bart and stroked his cheek.  "Are you scared of
him?"

"Aw, c'mon.  He's my brother."

"He seemed pretty angry."

"Yeah, well, you have to know him."

"I don't want to know him."

"I thought you liked him better at first."

Carolyn blushed.  She didn't want to admit it.  She did like him.  She
loved his body, and Bart was so much younger.  And until Bret went too
far, she really liked feeling his thick round arms.  She liked the way
he could pick her up like she weighed next to nothing, and she enjoyed
play fighting with him knowing that as hard as she punched him she
couldn't even hurt him.  It was fun!  But Bart was nice, not like Bret,
and she felt safe with him.  He had a kind of courage too.  Bret was so
mad; she thought he'd beat Bart up, but he stood up to his big brother.
All for her.  It made her feel warm and even a little tingly.  She did
like being a girl, and she especially liked starting to feel like a
woman.  In fact, she thought, she'd been feeling kind of tingly all day
long.  Maybe she was in love.  She didn't think she would have put her
mouth on his penis if she weren't.  With that, she reached over to Bart
and put her arms around him again and gave him a squeeze, which he
acknowledged with a smile.

"Hey, how about another set?  I feel like beating you again!"

"Don't count on it Bart.  I'm feeling really good today.  Maybe I'm in -
- I mean, just you see!"

Bart ran over to this house to change and they met on the court fifteen
minutes later.  The afternoon sun was warm but pleasant in the dry air.
Bart spun the racquet and won.  "My serve!"

He stood by the service line and tossed the ball high.  It sped down
over the next and slid by Carolyn for an ace.  He chuckled to himself.
He liked tennis, and he liked playing Carolyn.  Look at her, bouncing up
and down on the other court, waiting for him.  He threw the ball again
and hit it out.  Second serve.  He hit it more carefully and she
returned it down his backhand line.  Good training.  He raced over and
hit it deep, cross-court.  She covered the ground and fired it back.
She was very good, very steady.  Without the advantage of his more
powerful serve she was probably a better player.  He hit it evenly and
they rallied for several points, then Bart hit a hard cross-court shot
to her backhand that she couldn't handle and he was up 30 love.  He
wiped his brow and reached for another serve.  Right in the box.  She
returned it weakly and he moved in and whipped it by her.  40 love.  He
served again to the ad court and hit it solidly but she got her racquet
around on it and sent it back smartly along the line.  He couldn't reach
it.  "Nice hit!"  She smiled.  She was a good girl.  Bret was such a
jerk.  He steadied by the service line and threw the ball up again,
smashing it to the corner of the box and by her.  Ace!  1 love.  He
grinned and kissed her on the changeover.

Now Carolyn served.  She was very disciplined and made most of her first
serves count.  She threw the ball and hit it into the corner of the box. 
Bart raced over and returned it deep.  She hit it back, like a machine,
and they rallied again until she hit a hard shot just long.  Bart
smiled.  She didn't make a lot of those mistakes.  He settled in to
receive.  She hit it deep in the box and he backed up, hitting it a
little softly.  She attacked, sending the ball deep into the corner. He
hit it back.  She hit it again to the other side.  He ran over.  She hit
it cross-court.  Damn!  She was playing with him.  He returned it,
figuring he'd attack on the next forehand shot.  Sure enough, he broke
quickly and hit it hard to her backhand and charged the net.  But she
was ready and lofted a shot just above his leap and landing on the
baseline.

"Close!" she said, laughing. "15 all."  She served hard, right at him,
but he stepped aside and returned it.  He thought about running to the
net and was caught mid-court by a passing shot to his left.  30-15.  She
served again to his backhand and he hit it back.  Damn, another long
rally.  She was tiring him out and it was just the second game.  She won
the point on a sloppy return, then he mishit her serve.  Even at one.

He took the balls and bounced one.  Was he tired already?  He couldn't
let her win two in a row.  He threw it up for the serve and grooved it
in the middle of the box.  She slammed it back and he ran over to cover. 
Another long rally, which he won when she hit it long.  O.K.  He tossed
for the serve and hit it solidly, but she returned it again sending him
racing past the side line to get it.  He returned it, but it was right
to the center of the court and she stepped in and put it away, beyond
his reach. 15 all.  He tossed the ball again and hit another first serve
in, but again she returned it for a winner. He wiped his brow.  He
wasn't feeling right.  Too hot, then cold. But he wasn't going to make
excuses.  He tossed the ball and tried to whip his racquet, but his
timing was off and the ball flew straight into the air and then down.
He frowned.  His second serve barely made it into the box and she hit it
neatly into the corner and past him.  She ran up to the net.

"Hey, Bart, are you O.K.?"

"Yeah, sure," he lied.  He couldn't let her break him.  He bounced the
ball again and served it.  His racquet was too slow and a long, lazy lob
popped into the service box.  Open-mouthed, Carolyn set calmly and
slammed it into the corner for a winner.

As they changed sides, Carolyn looked at him strangely. "Are you sure
you're O.K.?"

"Yeah, yeah.  I'm fine."

"You're letting me win, then, or you're just fooling around!  Why?"

"I don't know.  I'm just -- c'mon, let's play."

He definitely was not feeling right, but he didn't want to talk about
it.  His legs felt like rubber, and his arms, well, his arms felt weak.
Even the tennis racquet felt heavy, like somebody had put lead weights
in it.  He struggled to concentrate.  Carolyn served, on the mark as
usual.  He tried to return it, but the ball whizzed by before he'd even
gotten half through his swing.  Shit!  He set up on the other side,
trying to cut down on his motion.  He chopped at the ball and sent an
easy lob over the next.  Carolyn trotted in, prepared to put it away,
then hit an easy shot nearby.  He hacked at it and barely got it over
the net.  She put her racquet down.

"Come on, play!" he cried.

"Something's wrong!  Jesus Bart, you're all flushed.  You must have a
fever. Why didn't you just say so?  It's not a tournament or anything!"

He was shaking.  "Yeah, I know.  I hate to quit."

"Let's go inside and get you to bed."

"But, I ... well O.K.  Jeez, I feel awful.  What if -- what if I have
that flu?"  Bart was shaking, whether from the fever or fright he didn't
know.

Carolyn put a protective arm around him.  "Hey, don't worry.  You'll be
all right.  I'm sure you will."  But she noticed he felt very hot.  And
his body felt different somehow, soft and yet bony, like some of him was
missing.  She walked with him toward the house.  Shit!  Bret was there,
leaning in the doorway, drinking a beer.

"So here are the two lovebirds!  Hey, what's the matter Bart?"

"I think I have that flu."

"Shit!  Don't come in here.  You want us to get it?"

"Bret, he has to go to bed.  Let us by."

"Fuck you, girlie.  Take him to your own bed.  I'm serious."  He dashed
inside and slammed the door, locking it.

Carolyn pounded on it.  "I can't believe you'd do this to your own
brother," she shouted.  "Bret?  Bret!"

"Forget it.  He won't listen."

"I can't believe this.  Well, I'm sure it's O.K.  Girls don't seem to
get this flu.  Let's go."

Bart could hardly walk now, and leaned more and more on Carolyn.  She
didn't mind.  He didn't feel very heavy to her.  She supposed she was
just so angry at Bret and worried about Bart that she didn't notice.
She took him upstairs to her room and laid him down on her bed.

"Carolyn, I'm scared.  I've never felt so sick.  My body feels so
heavy."

"I'll call a doctor, O.K.?"  He nodded.  She ran to the phone and called
the local health clinic, then the hospital.  All had busy signals.  She
tried for fifteen minutes then ran back to Bart.

"I can't get anyone.  I don't know what to do."

"Maybe you could give me a rubdown, with alcohol or something.  Maybe
get the fever down?"

"O.K.  Let's get you undressed."  She pulled off his shirt and almost
screamed.

"What is it?" he moaned and looked down.  "Aagh!  What's happening to
me?  My arms, my chest. I'm all bone. All my muscle is gone!"  He held
up his arm.  His upper arm was the same circumference as his wrist.

"Oh my god!" was all Carolyn could say, and started crying.

"This is like what happened to Dad, but worse!  I'm going to be so
weak!"

"Oh Bart, this is like, horrible!"

His head collapsed back on the bed.  "I feel so sick.  I can hardly
move.  I feel like I'm dying."

"Bart don't say things like that.  You're not dying!"

Bart tried to get up on one elbow, but he couldn't even lift his body.

"I'll try the hospital again.  Or 911."  She ran out, then came back
minutes later.  "I can't get through to anyone!"

"Fuck.  I'm a goner."  He stared at her and struggled to speak.
"Carolyn.  There's one thing.  It's going to sound weird, but ... I ...
would you ... like last night ...."

"Now?!"

"Please, Carolyn.  If I'm dying, I'd love to feel that one more time."

She looked at him like he was from another planet, but then decided that
maybe it meant he wasn't really that sick.  Well, if it made him feel
better, and happy, O.K.  She could do it for him.  She unzipped his
pants and pulled them down his legs, realized that he was so thin that
she could have just pulled them down even without unbuttoning them.  He
smiled at her, too weak to lift his hand to touch her, so she unbuttoned
her tennis dress so that he could look at her.  He smiled again at the
sight of her small, firm breasts and she bent over him so that he could
brush it with his lips.

"You have such a nice body, Carolyn.  I'm going to miss playing tennis
with you."

"Stop talking like that!  Or I won't do it!"

"O.K.," he said softly.  "It's so weird though.  We were just joking
about it.  And now look at you.  Your muscles are bigger than mine now!"

"You'll get better, and then you'll get strong again, just like before!
Now shut up or else you're going to make me start crying, and then I
won't be able to do it."

He nodded and she bent over him.  It was amazing the way his penis
popped right up at her, as sick and weak as he was.  She licked the
underside, and he groaned just like the night before, only more softly.
Now she took it in her mouth and slowly moved her lips up and down,
tightening them around the shaft.  He moaned, happily she was sure, and
moved faster.  She could already taste his precum -- she was surprised
how much she liked it -- and moved her mouth faster still.  He came in a
flood, which surprised her, since he was sick and they'd just done it
last night.  The taste was different too, but not bad, and she swallowed
it.  She lifted her head.  His eyes were closed and he was smiling.
Well, that was good.  Let him rest.

She buttoned up her dress.  It was awful Bart was so sick when she felt
great.  She felt a little hungry and raided the refrigerator for cheese
and crackers, then turned on the TV for her favorite soap. It wasn't on,
though.  Instead, there was a news report, with a concerned-looking
anchorwoman narrating.

"... people have died already, and the toll is mounting.  Officials at
the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta are unable to comment whether
this virus is related to the Rome Flu that struck this spring. The
infection pattern is similar, affecting only men, but the wasting effect
of this disease is much more severe.  We asked Dr. Carson Barnes what
could account for the immunity women seem to have for this disease."

"Well, Sharon, we've been studying the Rome Flu virus for several months
now, and it appears that certain hormones that appear more strongly in
men stimulate the reproduction of the virus to such an extent that it
overwhelms the body's immune system.  This also seems to explain the
wasting effect of the disease, and the lasting weakening effect it has
on those recovering from the disease.  Women's hormones, on the other
hand, seem to create a natural immunity."

"That's very interesting, Dr. Barnes.  What about this new flu?  Is it
the same type of virus?"

"It's too soon to say, but it is clear that women are not being affected
by it and that the muscle loss caused by this new disease is enormous."

"What can our viewers do to protect themselves?"

Dr. Barnes shook his head.  "Staying away from crowds is probably the
best answer, but influenza is a particularly pervasive germ.  I don't
want to frighten people, but remember, the Spanish Flu of 1918 killed
more people in a few months than those who died in all of the first
World War.  It killed people on isolated islands at the same rate as in
cities.  And there is no treatment."

"What about vaccination?"

"We are just finishing the preparation of a vaccine for the Rome Flu
now.  It will be months before we can immunize even a small part of the
population against this new threat. If --"  he put his hand to his head.

"Dr. Barnes?"

"If any of us survive.  I think I have to lie down, Sharon."

"Thank you Dr. Barnes.  I'm sure all of us wish you the best of luck."

"To recap now for those who have just joined us.  A new severe flu virus
is spreading with terrific speed throughout the world today.  There have
been over 100,000 deaths in the United States already, millions more
worldwide.  The mortality rate for the disease seems to be in excess of
80%, and if present indications hold, the survivors will be seriously
weakened."

"We have a report now from the White House.  President Clinton has
contracted the virus and is near death.  Mrs. Hillary Rodham Clinton is
with him, and his daughter Chelsea is flying to Washington D.C.
Apparently Vice President Al Gore is also ill.  Under the Constitution,
House Speaker Newt Gingrich would be the next in line for succession,
and he is apparently keeping himself in an airtight chamber, trying to
avoid infection."

"In other news, the flu has spread to Europe and Africa, resulting in an
uneasy calm on the battlefields of Kosovo and Eritrea.  Governments
around the world are trying to maintain normal functioning and
continuity, but the fabric of life is threatened as the men in office
succumb to the disease or flee the crowded cities to protect
themselves."

"Back at home, all sporting events have been canceled, and it may be
that we have seen the last of professional baseball for some time.
Certainly Mark McGwire's pursuit of the record for most homeruns in a
baseball season has had a sad end.  Mark McGwire died today of the as
yet unnamed flu, at the age of 35."

Carolyn was watching the television transfixed, but at the mention of
Mark McGwire's death she screamed and jumped up to check on Bart.  He
lay peacefully on her bed, cold and dead, the smile still on his face.


5


"Debra, I can't!"

"You'll never be able to if you don't try!"

"But it's too hard for me!"

Bert continued to struggle with the snap on his blue jeans.  His fingers
turned white, but Debra could see no evidence of any muscle movement in
his arms.  Really, it is so pathetic, she thought.  She put her hands on
her hips, trying to be patient.

"Please, Debra.  I knew this was a mistake.  I'm going to pee in my
pants!"

She reached over and undid the snap with her fingers, then pulled down
the zipper for him.  His pants fell to the floor and he shuffled to the
toilet, where he relieved himself.

"I can't wear those clothes anymore, Debra.  Please don't make me."

"I'm not making you do anything.  It's just that those gowns look so
dorky, Bert.  It's almost like you're wearing a dress.  You look much
better wearing a boy's clothes.  Can't I just tell you that?"

Bert shuffled back and lifted the light gown over his head.  He hated it
too, but at least he could dress and undress himself.  He looked at
Debra with a mixture of fear, desire and envy.

"Yeah, sure.  I hate to keep disappointing you."

"It's not your fault."

"You have to do everything for me.  I can't even walk down the street
without getting tired.  I'm so dependent."

"It's O.K.  Really.  I'm just glad you survived it.  So many guys
didn't."

Bert nodded.  He couldn't believe that it was more than a month since
Bart died.  "But I'm so weak. How can you stand to look at me?  I can't
stand it myself."

"Will you stop talking like that?  It's hard enough, O.K.?

"Sorry," he said quickly. He looked over at her. She was as beautiful as
before, more so, he thought.  Just as he had gotten weaker, she was
getting stronger.  Every day her body was a little firmer, her arms a
little thicker, her breasts higher and more prominent.  And she wasn't
even working out.  Just doing her usual summer things: swimming, tennis,
hiking, riding horses.  Of course, she did them all without him now.  He
saw her play, hitting the ball more powerfully all the time.  It was so
painful to watch, but he had to show interest.  What else could he do?
She was being so nice to him.

Debra nodded, acknowledging his apology.  It was bad enough to have to
see Bert reduced to such a frail, little stick.  His fabulous butt was
long gone, and his skinny arms made her think of all those horrible
appeals for starving children, at least until her eyes hit the roll of
fat that gathered around his waist now that the muscle that surrounded
it had melted away.  And he was always whining and complaining, just
like a child.  She hated treating him like one, but it seemed like it
was the only way to keep him going.

Bert stopped walking and reached out for her hand.  Involuntarily, she
shook her head in annoyance, then extended her hand and supported him
the rest of the way downstairs to the kitchen.  He sat down in the chair
while she made lunch:  a half-pound hamburger for her with salad, just
salad for him.

"Are you sure you don't mind my eating this in front of you?"

"Yeah, it's all right.  Maybe someday I can eat them again."

"I really have to, you know.  I get so hungry now."

"I know."  He understood she had to eat protein.  Her body was growing
and had to be fed, while he barely needed a thousand calories a day to
maintain himself.  Patting his soft belly he thought he could even do
with less.

"Do you think your brother will ever come out of there?"

"I don't know.  He's barricaded himself in pretty good.  So far it's
worked.  He hasn't gotten sick."

"He's one of the lucky few.  I read that more than nine out of ten men
got it, and each day, as boys mature, they get sick too.  Most of them
die."

"So I'm supposed to feel lucky?"

"Well, don't you?"

"I don't know.  Living like this . . . you have no idea what it feels
like to be so weak."  She raised an eyebrow and didn't reply.  "I know,
what's the big deal, you keep saying.  I was stronger than you before
and now it's the other way around.  You lived with being the weaker sex
and now I have to.  But it's different.  That was natural.  This is --

"What?  What?  It's because of that flu.  So what's 'unnatural' about
that?"

"It's a disease."

"It's nature, Bert.  Where do you think viruses come from?  And anyway,
this is pointless.  It's a fact. I mean, you keep complaining, but it's
not like it's going to change it.  You have to live with it.  At least
you're still alive."

"Yeah.  What a life!  I can't even undo a snap!"

"Yeah, well there'll still be a lot of women happy to do it for you. I
read somewhere that all men used to have a fantasy of there being ten
women for every man.  Well, there you go!  How do you think I feel about
that?"

"Yeah, I guess so.  But it's not like I can do anything about it.  I
can't go outside and enjoy it or anything.  I might get kidnapped."

She shrugged.  "Not that it makes it fair, but I used to have to worry
about going out by myself too, or dating the wrong kind of guy.  I
learned how to live with that.  You have to be smart about it.   And
there are things I miss too," she replied.  "I mean, no offense, but
making out with you isn't the same.  I have to be so careful not to hurt
you.  I can never let go."

"I'm sorry.  It's just you're so much stronger than me.  I mean you
squeeze me a little and I can't breathe.  The difference between me and
you then and you and me now is like night and day.  But anyway, you
should understand what it's like.  You used to ask me to be gentler."

"And I still would get hurt.  I had bruises on my breasts all the time
just from your mouth."  She sighed.  "I did like the way your body used
to feel.  But that's over now."

Bert shook his head.  "It doesn't have to be.  There ought to be a cure. 
It's not fair that the new President won't pay for research to reverse
the effects of the flu."

"It's too dangerous. President Rogers is a smart lady, and I'm sure she
knows what she's doing.  She said there wouldn't have been a Rome Flu or
this flu in the first place without all the immunization programs and
production of vaccines.  And with all the problems we have in this
country we can't afford another epidemic.  What if the next one affected
women the same way as men?  The whole human race would be wiped out."

"I still don't think it's right.  She shouldn't even be President.
Amanda Rogers.  I never even heard of her before."

"Yeah, well she practically saved the whole country.  Running around
with all those doctors to help save any man who had a chance of
surviving.  Making sure the sick men were isolated from the rest of the
population, and well taken care of as they were dying.  You think it
would have been better if the Secretary of H.H.S. was President now.
Who elected him? That's what would have happened, you know, according to
the line of succession we learned in high school.  He could hardly stay
awake more than four hours a day he was so weak.  It was better to call
a new election, and she's a real can-do person."

"Yeah, maybe as far as women are concerned, but she's doing nothing for
men now.  I think she's just there for women."

"How can you say that?  Everyone over 18 voted.  They even went to the
hospitals with absentee ballots.

"Yeah, big deal.  There were still ten times as many women to vote."

"Well, there are a lot more of us now.  Majority rules, remember?"

"But look at the things she's done.  Men can't drive anymore, they can't
do jobs that require more than twenty hours a week, they can't go to
school, work out at gyms or participate in organized sports.  We can't
even own property in our names anymore!  I had to sign my bank account
over to my Aunt."

"Yeah, that's pretty strange.  I read it was to prevent confusion with
wills and people's estates and everything, with men dying right and
left.  But the point of it all to protect men.  You said before you need
protection."

"Yeah, but I want to be able to do things too."

"That's so typical, you want to have it both ways.  Well, you better
keep your opinions to yourself.  You could get yourself arrested and put
in a special home for talking like that. We're not even allowed to
question that law or the other emergency laws.  Until the emergency
ends, society has to be stabilized and the few men that are left have to
be protected.  You guys are like a scarce natural resource, an
endangered species. And until that happens, just forget about a cure.
No one is supposed to do any research on the influenza virus or the way
it affects the human body in case they cause more problems.  So you just
have to be a little patient Bert."

"I can't believe you go along with all that.  This is America.  I don't
understand how talking about something can be against the law."

She shook her head.  "A hundred million Americans have died, in case you
didn't notice, almost two billion worldwide, and you're worried about
your right to complain?  This is just the kind of thing that a woman
president understands:  saving lives is more important that some
abstract principle, and science has to have limits."

"But what about the lives of all the twelve year old boys?"

"They're important too, of course.  And they're being closely monitored
now and getting the best possible care if they get sick."

"I heard that they just put them in a room somewhere and let them die.
DJ Young, you know him?  He went to one of those and ended up surviving. 
He said that girls came in at night and gave them blow jobs to keep them
quiet."

"Oh yeah!  I'm sure.  You believe that crap?"

He looked at her.  "I don't know. I guess not.  But I have to believe
there's a way to prevent this, if they'd only work on it."

"Well, maybe someday, Bert.  But you're just going to get yourself in
trouble if you keep going on about it."  She looked over at him and held
the burger in her hand, eating it down in large gulps.  "I'm so hungry."
Her biceps flexed noticeably each time she brought the burger to her
mouth.

"Yeah.  Well, you're growing so fast.  How big are you now?"

"Bert!  Cut it out.  Jeez, that's one thing that hasn't changed.  Boys
always want to know your measurements!"  She smiled.  "But if you really
want to know, my biceps are only twelve inches, but I am getting pretty
strong.  You should have seen the rock climbing I was doing today.  I
was pulling myself straight up like it was nothing.  Want to see?"
Before Bert could say anything, she bared her arm and flexed.  Just two
months ago, nothing would have happened, but now her biceps were larger
than his had ever been.  They weren't cut, like the biceps of a
bodybuilder who had reduced her fat to nothing, or laced with veins.
But they were thick and hard, a solid ball of strength, and it seemed
that each arm held more muscle than he had on his whole body.  His body
ached with jealousy.  And to his further humiliation, he felt his penis
rise.  The final shame was that Debra could see it too.  Those damn
gowns he had to wear.  He blushed.

"Bert!  Don't be embarrassed!  It's so sweet that you find it
attractive.  I was really worried for awhile that guys would think girls
look like men with breasts, but you don't!  You actually like the way I
look with muscles."  She leaned over and kissed him directly on the
lips, running her hand down his gown to touch his penis and stroke it a
little.  He edged back in his chair slightly, but there was no place to
go.

"Debra!"

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing.  I ..."

"Come on!  I'm just playing."

"But that's it.  You think you can --

The door banged open and Carolyn burst in.  She'd been away for two
nights with some friends, but she looked annoyed.  "Your brother is the
biggest jerk."

"Uh-oh, Carrie!  What'd he do this time?"

"The same old thing.  Leaning out the window, making nasty remarks.  He
thinks nothing has changed, but he's wrong. What about your Aunt?  Isn't
she supposed to be in charge of him?"

"I don't know.  Aunt Emma's just twenty eight.  I think she's just
having fun these days.  She likes Bret and she'll let him do pretty much
what he wants."

"Well then, he's on his own.  We can take care of him!" Carolyn
declared.

"What are you going to do?"  Bert looked concerned.

"I'm going to go in there and see him myself!"

"Carrie.  That might be dangerous.  What if he has a gun?  We should
call the police."

"Oh Debra.  That is so old fashioned!  He's just a guy. I can take care
of him."

"It's true.  You have grown, little sister!" Debra said, half joking, as
she looked at her sister.  Carrie had changed so much in the past two
months.  Her physique was incredible.  She seemed to have doubled in
size, dwarfing Debra.  Her arms were heaped with muscle, her chest was
barrel-shaped, and the house shook each time she walked. Debra wondered
why Carrie had gotten so much bigger than she had.  And why was she away
with these new friends so much? Carrie had always wanted to be close to
her; now she was slipping away, somewhere.

"It's my genes," she said vaguely.  "I've always been a better athlete
than you."

Bert tried to intervene.  "You know, President Rogers got really big
too.  So do the women in her special guard.  A lot of the women in her
Women's Party are getting big fast.  I bet it's some kind of plot.  They
know something."

Carolyn looked over at him in amusement.  "Oh yeah!  There's a big
conspiracy.  And I'm in on it.  Woo!  Woo!" she teased, as she lifted
him in the air and tickled him.

"Stop it.  Cut it out!"  He flailed helplessly and she whirled him
around like an airplane.

"Carrie!  Come on!"

"O.K."  She put him down.  "Really, Bert.  Just because I'm getting big
so fast you don't have to be so suspicious of me. I'm not a member of
the Women's Party.  You have to be able to vote, and I'm just sixteen."

Bert didn't believe her.  She was in on something.

"Now, here's my plan --

"Carolyn, please don't.  I know he's a jerk.  But he's my brother.  What
if he gets sick?"

She looked uncomfortable.  "He's got to come out sooner or later, Bert,
and if he gets it, he gets it.  We may as well get it over with.  And
he's so obnoxious.  It really makes me mad.  No, I want to do it.  Deb,
are you going to help me, or are you on his side?"

"Don't be silly Carrie!  What do I have to do?  He still looks a lot
stronger than me, you know."

"Don't worry!  I'll handle him.  You just go around to the front and
distract him.  Tell him you bought some beer for him or something.  You
can bring some from the basement.  He'll lower the basket.  That will
give me enough time to get inside from the back."

"It sounds so obvious." Debra looked at Carolyn.  "I'm sure he'll go for
it though."

"You think -- you think he's that stupid?"  Bert asked.

The two sisters looked at each other.  "Definitely!" they both said at
once and laughed.

"Well I'm not going to help you.  I'm going to warn him!" He got up and
took two steps before Carolyn grabbed his gown.  Bert strained; his legs
were moving, but we wasn't getting anywhere.  And she wasn't even
trying!  "Let me go!"

Carolyn laughed.  "Look at this, Debra!  Isn't this the funniest!"  She
made a face like she was exerting herself, but the huge muscle on her
arm didn't even register the effort.

"Bert, admit it.  You're being silly," Debra said sternly.

"I don't have to admit anything!" he wailed.  "You girls are going to
kill my brother.  You're worse than guys ever were.  You don't even
listen to me."

Debra looked at Carolyn.  "I hate it when they start whining like this."

"I know."

"Bert," Debra said.  "I don't want to have to tie you up.  What if I
take you out after we're done.  We can go for a walk in the Maroon
Bells, and I promise I'll carry you as far as you want.  You haven't
been there yet.  It's really beautiful.  O.K.?"

What's the use, he thought.  I'm no match for them physically.  There
had to be another way.  He stopped struggling.  "O.K.  But please don't
hurt him."

"Oh, I promise!" said Carolyn, her hand over her heart.  She went down
to get the beer.

"Now, you behave!  If you warn him, somebody may get hurt, and if
anything happened to Carrie, I'd ... I'd ... I don't even want to think
about it!  Understand?"  She tensed her muscles, so that even her bosom
seemed to rise up against him.  He'd never thought of her breasts as
intimidating, but they actually frightened him.  He nodded meekly.
"Good."

They left, first Debra from the front door.  She called up to Bret,
waiving a case of beer around like it was fresh meat before a dog.

"What do you want, muscle-tits?"

"We thought you might be getting low on supplies.  Do you want this
beer?  We don't drink it."

Bret looked at her.  Why was she doing this for him?  Well, it didn't
matter.  Chicks could be strange.  But the beer was staring him in the
face.  He hadn't had a can for almost a week.  As long as it was sealed,
what could be the harm?

"O.K.  Just a minute."  He got his laundry basket, which was attached to
a rope, and threw it out the window.  She ran over to it and put the
case in the basket.  Man, she hefted it easily.

"No, no, it won't work that way.  I can only lift a sixpack at a time.
Otherwise it'll break."

"Oop!  Sorry!"  She broke open the box and put a sixer in the basket.

Meanwhile, Carolyn had gone to the back of the house and had boosted
herself onto the roof.  She'd done it years before, when she was only
twelve, and was pleased at how she could pull herself up so quickly,
even though she weighed nearly two hundred pounds.  She had to be more
careful about making noise, but Bret was yelling instructions so loudly
at Debra that he'd never hear her.  She tried the upstairs porch door
and found that it still hadn't been fixed.  One shove and she was in.
She tiptoed through the spare bedroom until she stood at the door of the
front bedroom, watching Bret haul in his catch.  He seemed to be working
hard, lifting the last sixpack up the side of the house, so Carolyn took
the end of the rope and gave it a yank.

Bret turned around quickly.  "Hey!  Who -- Get out of here!"

"You started something with me once, remember?  I'm ready to finish it
now."

"Fuck off.  Just stay away from me, you freak!"  He eyed her massive
body.  Shit!  She was almost as big as he was.  "I'm warning you."

"I don't care."  She stepped closer.

Bret looked around.  All he had was the beer.  It was a waste, but he
had to do something.  He picked up a sixpack and threw it at her.

She saw it coming and caught it, then plucked one can off and crushed it
in her fingers, the spray drenching her and the floor.  Her t-shirt was
transparent now and clung to her chest, making her small breasts and
enormous pectorals even clearer.  She looked down and grinned.  "Here I
am, Bret.  You can see everything."  She walked closer.

"All right, girlie.  This is your last chance. You may be big, but
you're going to get hurt." He stepped in and fired his best shot into
her abdomen.

"Ooof!" she said, expelling some air and stepping backwards. Catching
her off balance, he followed with a hook to her chest, his fist ramming
right into her small breast.  Her eyes shot open and watered a bit.  She
was tougher than he thought, but he was hurting her.

She scowled and rotated slightly and powered a kick into Bret's hip.  It
caught him squarely on target and sent him tumbling into the corner of
the room, where he lay on the ground. He was stunned at how hard she'd
hit him, and stood up slowly. He looked at her legs, swallowing with
shock at their thickness.

He took a step toward her, his hip aching a bit, and looked down at her. 
She didn't say anything, but suddenly flexed her muscles, her chest
expanding in size by a third.  Taking advantage of his surprise, she
grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms
around his back and holding him, more and more tightly.

"Hey!  Let me go!  Let me go!"  A real note of panic entered his voice.
He didn't want to be this close to her.  He tried to push her away, but
her muscles just absorbed the pressure.  He felt them grow and harden
against him.

She looked up at him, her eyes innocent one instant, mocking the next.
"You've got me now," she taunted, rubbing her chest against him.  "What
are you going to do with me?"  Her fingers dug into his back muscles,
the motion half a massage, half torture.

"Get a-way.  Get AWAY!"  He shouted.  His heart pounded.  She held him
tighter still, trapping his arms and making his breathing more and more
difficult. He turned his head to avoid her breath.  Mustn't get
infected.  He glanced down at her arms, which were now pumped hugely,
and still she put more pressure on.  He had to get away from her.  He
hooked his leg around hers and shifted his weight suddenly, sending her
to the ground.  He fell right on top of her, digging his elbow into her
left breast again.

"Oww! That hurt!"  She rubbed her breast and he rolled off her,
scampering away.  "Is that what you call fighting fair?"

"Hey, you're the intruder here.  I'm defending my home."  She nodded.
He still wasn't going anywhere; what was he going to do, leave?  She
advanced toward him again. "Damn, what do you want from me?"

"A kiss."

"Forget it!  You look more like a guy to me, and I don't kiss guys!"

She lunged for him and he stepped backwards, but he had little room to
maneuver, and soon he was cornered.  She stood crouched, ready, her
enormous arm muscles half flexed.  He looked at her long blond hair
streaming down her back, her young face as fresh as when he'd met her
two months ago, but now more self-assured, more dynamic, while he felt
older, more afraid.  How long could he hold out?  He didn't know.  But
if he was going to succumb, he'd go down fighting.  He feinted left,
started right and went left after all.  He thought he was by her, and on
his way downstairs, when he felt her arm on his leg, bringing him down
in a brilliant tackle.  He fell hard on his side, and she used their
momentum to push him onto his back while she lay across him.  He pushed
her to get away, but she held on, laughing, using her weight to keep him
down.  Now she was bending her face toward him.  And what was worse he
was getting an erection.  What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Hmm, hmmm?  What's that I feel?"  She tickled him on the ass and
wiggled her pelvis against him.

"Cut it out!"  There was no escape.  This girl was several years younger
than him and five inches shorter, yet she had him pinned with a
combination of strength and weight.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed!  Lots of guys would be proud."

"Shut up!  Leave me alone!"

She squeezed his butt in response and then put her hand on the back of
his head to turn it toward her.  "I want a kiss."

"NO!  Don't!  You'll get me sick!"

"Don't be silly.  I'm not sick."  She held his head steady.  He pushed
her back, but gravity was on her side.

"Hey Carrie!  You all right in there?"  Debra shouted from outside.

"Yeah, fine Deb!  That old porch door was still open!" she shouted in
reply.  "Bret and I are getting real close!"

There was a ten second silence, then "Really?"

"Yeah!  We'll be down later."

"Help!  Help!"  Bret yelled.

Debra laughed.  "Oh, I see.  O.K., then.  See you later."

"No!  Wait!  Help me!" he cried.  There was no answer from below.

"Now are you going to give me a kiss?  Or am I going to have to take
one?"  She turned his head so that he was looking down right at her,
terror in his eyes.  "Oh, don't be so frightened.  It's just a kiss."
And with that, she put her lips on his and probed his lips with her
tongue.  He kept his teeth clenched, but it was no use.  She could still
part them with her tongue and lightly ran it along his gums.

"Weird kiss.  I feel like a toothbrush!" she giggled.  She squeezed him
more tightly and he moaned, opening his mouth.  In went her tongue,
probing his mouth.  With that, he jabbed her hard in the kidney.  She
broke the kiss, startled, and popped up slightly, giving him a chance to
push her off.  She stood, rubbing her back and followed him downstairs
in close pursuit.  He dashed through the hall, but there was no place to
go and soon he was cornered again.

"Damn you.  What do I have to do to make you go away!"

"Now you know how it feels!  Like when you were going after me.  You
would have raped me if Bart hadn't stopped you."

"Bart didn't do shit!  I just got bored.  I thought you would be fun,
but you were too immature."

Her eyes flashed.  "I am not!  Why are you so mean!  I - I really
thought I liked you. Why do you have to be so awful?"

"Well, that's your opinion, but there are hundreds of girls who are
older and more mature than you who know better.  So why don't you just
go back to your Seventeen Magazine shit and leave a man in peace."

Even though Carolyn had developed the physique of a superwoman, having
an older sister whose body was still much more womanly than hers made
Carolyn extremely sensitive about being told she was immature.  Her face
flushed and she almost burst into tears, but then, instead, a surge of
anger went through her and she leapt at Bret.

"Fuckin' Wonder Woman," he grunted, ducking under her and running out of
the room.  "This is a fucking disaster.  How'm I going to rid of her?
Only one way."  He waited around the corner, and when he heard her
thundering after him he stepped out at the last moment and hit her as
hard as he could while she ran into him. His fist connected squarely in
her solar plexus and she fell to her knees, stunned and in pain,
coughing.  He kicked upwards, catching her unprotected abdomen.  She
toppled backwards and then quickly turned onto her tender stomach,
trying to protect it and shielding her head with her arms as he hit her
again and again.  But his only open target was her back, and short of
turning her over or stomping on her neck he wasn't sure what to do.
What he really wanted was to get rid of her, and now she was just lying
on his floor. Besides, he was getting tired.  Being cooped up in the
house for two months hadn't done much for his conditioning.

"Had enough?" he said roughly, his blows coming more slowly.  She wasn't
moving.  He bent down to look more closely.  Suddenly, her arm swung out
and pulled him down next to her, and she jumped on top.  Her arms mashed
his into the floor, cutting off his circulation as she applied her
strength to his forearms.  She dug her legs into his too.  She smiled
down at him.

"You really didn't hit me as hard as I thought you would.  With all this
muscle around my stomach, I can take a lot of punishment, except for
that first shot of yours."  Her elbows kept his head locked in place;
her face was inches away from his, the hot moisture of her breath on his
cheeks.  He tried to get away, but it was hopeless.  Her weight and
strength were too much for him.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance!"

"If you had the chance."  She purred, and licked his face.

"Stop that!"

"Make me!"

He tried again to get up, but gave up quickly.  He was losing feeling in
his hands.  "I can't," he admitted.  "Please let me up.  You're hurting
me," he said more quietly.

She kissed him again.  "Since you asked so nicely."  She got up slowly,
watching him.

He moved his arms and his legs, letting the circulation return, then
stood up.  "Thanks," he said, looking her over.  He couldn't believe how
she had grown in the past two months, from a skinny teenager to a girl
with a  body almost as big as his.  And she seemed stronger than he,
although maybe it was his damn inactivity.  He rubbed his arms.  They
still felt funny.  "Why did you come here?"

"To get you out of here."

"But don't you understand, you - never mind - I don't want to get out.
I might get sick."

"I thought you don't get the flu," she taunted.

"Fuck that.  This is serious."

"I know.  You might get sick."

He threw up his hands.  "So what are you doing here."

"Seeing if you do."

His jaw dropped.  "Are you crazy?  I could die."

She stared back at him.  "Uh-huh.  Just about every male over thirteen
gets it, and most of them die.  Bart died.  Bert didn't."

"You came in here to kill me?!!" he said, shocked.

"No," she said coolly, "You might get sick.  You might not."

Anger surged up in him.  "You're a killer, that's what you are!"  he
couldn't control himself and went right for her throat.  She put her
hands up to block him, but he was quicker and latched on, squeezing.
She kicked up her knee to hit him in the balls, but ran into something
hard.  He was wearing a cup!  "I won't let you off this time.  Killer!"
he shouted.

Carolyn put her hands on his to pry them from her neck.  She grasped his
fingers and dug her nails into them, opening three deep punctures.  He
swore and let go.  In a second their hands were locked as he again
sought her throat.  For over a minute they struggled, their arms
trembling as they pushed against each other. Pushing down, Bret had the
advantage, but Carolyn's arms held him off, her solid biceps fully
flexed.  He could feel himself tiring, growing hot, his heart pounding.
She must be fading too, but she was putting up a good front.  Damn she
was tough.  Then she started pushing him back.  Bret's arms were giving
way and she steadily backed him through the hall and against the wall.
He steeled his legs to resist, but they felt heavy and tired.  She was
defeating him.  She couldn't!

She pushed his arms back and let go, peppering him with punches in the
stomach, shoulders and chest.  He felt all of them, and couldn't seem to
block her, his arms too tired.  He grabbed her, trying to hold her in a
clinch, but she pushed him roughly backwards into the wall.  He went at
her again, swinging wildly and connected with a blow to her abdomen.
She just laughed at him and slapped his face lightly, pushing it from
side to side, not even bothering to protect herself.  He hit her again
and again, but she didn't even seem to notice.  His arms felt sluggish
and heavy.

"Feeling a little beat, Bret?"  He glared at her.  So he was tired, out
of shape.  She held him against the wall now with one arm only, leaving
the other free to push and probe his torso, feathering up and down his
chest, darting in back to tease his buttocks, caressing his neck, face
and hair.  He couldn't believe it.  She was so strong that she could
keep him with just one arm!  He pushed against her yet again, but it was
hopeless.

She put her hand on his cheek.  "A little warm too."  Then it hit him.
He had it.

"You, you, you infected me!  You did it on purpose."  He flailed at her
again, but she caught his fist in her hand and stopped him cold.  She
held his arm extended, examining it as he strained to free himself.

"It's happening already, Bret.  Look at your arm.  Your muscle is
dissolving before our eyes.  See how soft it's getting!  It's just
fading away, eaten by the flu."  She played with it, feeling his biceps,
squeezing them.  "Come on, flex them for me.  Let me see them."

No, this wasn't happening!  He desperately tried to pull his hand back,
but his effort barely showed in his upper arm.  He had no strength left. 
He was completely at her mercy.  She dug her fingers into his upper arm. 
"Let me see!  Let me see!"  He looked down at her, so sturdy, so strong. 
He could barely stand.  "Do it for me, Bret.  Flex those muscles!"  Yes,
yes, try to flex them, his addled mind repeated.  Show the lady your
muscles; they love that.  He willed his arm to tighten.  The will was
there, but the muscles were not.  "They're all gone, Bret.  Did you hear
me?  All of them!  Look, Bret.  You're weak, pathetic."

"I'm weak?  I'm so hot!  I can hardly stand."

"Come with me, you poor little creep.  Let me help you lie down."

"Yes, lie down.  I have to lie down."  She led him to the den.  "I'm
burning up.  Burning."

"Poor dear.  I'll help you undress."  She let him collapse onto the
couch and pulled off his shirt and his pants, which slid down easily
over his narrowing frame, and then pulled down his shorts. Kneeling next
to him, she let her fingers ride gently over his face and down his
chest.

"Thanks," he murmured.  "But ... what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing," she replied, lightly brushing her
hand along his penis.

"Ung, that feels nice.  But ... why?"

"Sshh!  I want to."  She started licking his penis, which slowly began
to respond to her touch.

"It's not really the time, you know.  I'm -

She was moving her tongue more vigorously, putting more pressure on the
growing organ.  He tried to get up, but she put a hand on his chest and
pushed him back down easily.  "Let me take care of it, Bret.  You just
relax."

"I don't understand ...  Ohhhh"  She had just taken him inside her mouth
and was now moving her lips up and down the stiffening shaft, licking
him at the same time.  He moaned again and she felt his face again.  He
was burning up.  She'd have to hurry.  She touched his balls again, as
lightly as she could, then ran her finger down his crack toward the
anus, just as she'd been taught.  She felt an immediate hardening and
heard another moan.  It was working.  Faster and faster she worked.  She
could taste the precum.  It was good, but she wanted more.  He was so,
so sick.  He wouldn't be one of the immune or resistant ones.  He was
dying.  That was the best kind, his system would be swarming with the
virus, fresh as could be.  She felt his penis pull back slightly, the
gun barrel beginning its spasm, and the precious fluid shot into her
eager mouth.  She closed her lips tightly, swallowing each drop,
tonguing him again and again to tease out the last bits.  She heard him
moaning again; well fine, let the creep die happy.  She had what she
wanted from him.  She no longer felt anything coming, but he was still
hard.  Sure enough, he was dead.  A shiver of disgust passed through
her, and she rose, dressing him again and covering him with a blanket.
It was too late for him, but it would make things easier with Debra and
Bert.

A day later, Debra, Bert and Carolyn sat together in the den, waiting
for the President's speech.  It was a month since she'd taken office.
The world had turned upside down.  She had promised to make a full
report on the state of the nation, and lay out her program for the
future.  With all five hundred stations tuned to her address, and the
internet shut down while she spoke, President Rogers had America's
complete attention.

As was her custom, she spoke not from behind a desk, wearing a formal
suit, but on a stage, with a few guests sitting nearby and an audience
in front of her.  She wore a comfortable, but stylish yellow dress,
sleeveless, showing off her prodigious muscles.

"Dear Ladies:  Good Evening."

"What does she mean, Ladies!  What about -

"Sssh Bert!"  Debra clapped her hand over his mouth and threatened him
with the other in the shape of her fist.  He settled back, quiet.

"When you elected me as your President, you felt frightened.  Frightened
for your families. Frightened for your future.  Frightened that we, as a
species, as a nation, as individuals, would not survive.

"All around us, our fathers, our husbands and sons, our bosses, our
doctors, our ministers and priests, even our President, were saying that
the world we knew was coming to an end.  And that this itself was the
end."

"They were right, and they were wrong."

"The world we knew did come to an end.  But it was not only the end.  It
was also in fact the beginning.  The beginning of a new era."

"Because our fathers and husbands, our bosses, are no longer in charge.
We are."

The audience cheered.  One of her guests, Attorney General Hillary
(Clinton) Rodham laughed and clapped, her own biceps jumping out each
time her hands met.

President Rogers held up her hands.  "Please!  I say this not to rejoice
or brag.  We mourn the deaths of the men of this country, of the whole
world.  We will miss their company, their love, and their strength.  But
we must go on.  We must continue our lives, and the life of the human
race.  And we must do so with a firm understanding of the new conditions
of that race, and not slavishly follow the truths of another era."

"We live now in a world where 98% of the mature population is female,
and where most males are too weak to participate in daily life.  Let us
be honest: we live in a female society, and we have the responsibility,
the obligation, to make it work."

"I know this will be difficult for you to hear, because it goes against
the way we, as women, were taught to live:  To spend our lives nurturing
the weak, to feed, clothe and tend to the young, sick and elderly and to
support our men so that they could provide for us.  But this must
change.  We cannot spend our lives propping up men who are too weak to
walk by our sides.  We have a world to run."

"We cannot mechanically repeat the sayings of the past: women and men
are not equals.  We are powerful; men are weak.  We are many; men are
few.  We must work to keep America running.  Men must labor simply to
stay alive.  We will be the doctors, lawyers, ministers, priests, and
presidents.  We will have the knowledge and experience, the stake in
society, necessary to understand the issues of daily life.  Men will
have only their own existence at stake, because they lack the energy,
the ability, the strength to live beyond themselves."

"And let's be honest.  They are in genuine danger.  What man now can
resist the will of a women? You've seen the statistics.  The average man
has less strength than a seven year old girl, and when endurance is
taken into account, they can be dominated by a five year old.  Think
what that means.  The slightest of girls can overpower ten men, probably
more."

"We women used to joke about how unnecessary men are.  But one thing is
true.  Until we can reliably clone ourselves and decide, irrevocably,
that for the rest of history we will live on by copy rather than through
sexual reproduction, we cannot allow our men to die out.  There is just
one fertile male for every forty women of childbearing age. Men are an
endangered species and must be protected with the full power our nation
can bring to bear."

"But we also cannot allow the future of our country, of our politics, of
our business or of our children to be in the hands of those who are
helpless to resist the will of others.  We cannot give those who would
seek to subvert our freedoms and our way of life the ability to
manipulate the weak and defenseless to their own advantage."

"Therefore, I come to you with the program of our administration.  We
will set our nation on a new path that will preserve America, and our
way of life, for generations to come."

"First, we will amend the constitution to eliminate the barriers to
legislation that recognizes the fundamental differences between women
and men.  Equal protection under the law has as much meaning now between
woman and man as between woman and dog.  Our laws will protect the
legitimate needs of man and of society.  Man can legitimately ask for,
and we shall give them, no more than that."

"Second, we will amend the constitution to eliminate man's right to
vote, hold office, serve on juries, own property or bring litigation.
We do not deny man his humanity, his personhood or the existence of his
soul, but just as we cannot trust children to exercise independent,
reasoned judgment, we cannot expect man to have the capacity to resist
the influence of those who can and will dominate and rule him."

"When these amendments have been enacted, we will comprehensively
restructure all governmental programs, at every level, to provide the
proper protection and support for the new roles of women and men.  We
will create new, separate educational curricula that recognize the roles
each will play in society, women as the leaders in politics, art,
business and learning, men as our helpers in the act of procreation.  We
will regulate and enforce the responsibilities and authority women will
exercise.  We will ensure that our few men are kept safe from harm and
equitably rationed."

"The Speaker of the House and the Senate Majority Leader have promised
to enact the constitutional amendments within two days, and I have
commitments from the legislatures of thirty-eight states that they will
promptly ratify them.  We will then put into permanent law the emergency
measures I have previously decreed, and with that, our government will
return to the constitutional basis we have maintained throughout our
great history."

"When you elected me, I promised you that I had a vision of America
remaining strong and proud, a light to the world, the shining city on
the hill.  We will be proud to be the women of America.  And we will be
strong."

With that President Amanda Rogers and her guests stood up, each of them
following the President's lead and flexing their huge biceps to the
loud, sustained applause of the women in the studio.

"Did you hear that?  That's ... that's unbelievable!  She can't ...

"Why not, Bert?" Carolyn said, jumping up and putting her finger on his
chest.  "She was fairly elected.  You heard her.  She's going to amend
the Constitution.  That makes it fair, doesn't it?  Huh?"  Carolyn was
getting red.

"Hey Carrie, calm down!" Debra said.

"It's the President.  He can't question the President.  He's just

"Carrie!  They're still talking."

"Thank you, thank you.  Let me take some questions from the audience.
Yes, just pass the microphone around.  We all know how it's done.  Yes?"

"I'm very impressed, Ms. President, with the way you have taken control. 
I'm a great fan of yours."

"Thank you."

"My question is, what about the men who we not infected by the VIR-AMA
flu, as it is now called?  Will they be allowed to retain their rights?"

"That is an important question.  Hillary, would you like to answer this
for me?"

"Of course Ms. President.  The answer is no, we do not intend to
differentiate among men.  We believe that the men who were entirely
uninfected may have had a hormonal disorder that caused them to escape
the disease.  This group could be sterile or may have dangerous
mutations that must not be allowed to enter the gene pool based on the
severity of their infection.  Therefore, one of our legislative acts
will be immediately to identify and segregate the Uninfected so that
they do not pass on their disorders to the next generation.  Once they
are sterilized, they may be treated like other men, but will have to
placed under special controls so that they do not create societal
disruption.

"But excuse me, Madame Attorney General.  Isn't it possible that they
are immune to the disease for other reasons, and that this might be a
valuable trait to pass on to future generations?  And if they are
healthy, should they not be allowed to live normal lives?"

"The answer to your questions is no.  We do not plan to make any such
distinctions."

The President nodded.  "Next question?"

"Madame President.  First, may I say, I love your dress."

"Thank you."

"This may seem like a personal question, but I've noticed that you and
many others in power seem to have developed much more than the average
woman.  Is there a reason for this?  And if there is, can I drink
whatever you're drinking?"

The audience laughed.

Amanda smiled.  "Our scientists have discovered a way to enhance even
further the effects of VIR-AMA on women.  This knowledge will be given
to the women of America at an appropriate time.  Next question."

Debra looked at Carolyn quizzically, but Carolyn ignored her, her eyes
fixed on her President.

"I heard a rumor that you're going to take my husband away from me and
put him in a home.  Is that true?"

The President glared.  She leaned over to the Attorney General, who
nodded and left the stage.  "I will not comment on that point.  But I
will say that we must make proper provision for the surviving men to be
allocated among the entire population.  Those women whose husbands
survived cannot be allowed to monopolize them.  And may I remind all of
you, that we are still living in a state of emergency.  I will not
tolerate selfishness in this time of collective need.  Last question."

"Ms. President.  I just want to say it's a wonderful time to be a woman,
and you are a blessing to the world."

The President smiled.  "We must all learn to do our best with the life
we have been given.  The spirit of America will see us through.  God
bless all of us."

Bert struggled to stand up. "Yeah, but, but, what about my future?  I
don't understand.  I can't own anything?  I can't vote?  It's treating
me like I'll always be a child."  He looked at Debra and Carolyn for
support.

"It does seem a little extreme," offered Debra.

Carolyn shook her head vigorously.  "It makes perfect sense to me.  You
need to be protected.  There are too many things that could happen to
you if you get involved in the outside world.  You're just not strong
enough."

"But who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?  You're just a
kid!"

Carolyn reddened.  "I am not!  I'm ... I'm --"  She stood up, her chest
expanding with her anger.  She picked up Bert like he was a rag doll,
her small hand closing around his tiny upper arm.

"Aagh!" he cried.  "My arm!"

"Carrie!  Be careful!"

Carolyn glared at her sister and tossed Bert back onto the couch.

"Carrie, Bert is our friend!"

"Your friend, you mean.  You're trying to monopolize him, like that lady
on TV.  You're just going to have to give it up."

"Carrie!  I can't believe this.  What's gotten into you?  You're acting
so strange."

Carrie tossed her head.  "There are new rules, Deb.  Bert's going to
have to live with them.  So are you."  She reached over to Bert and
pulled him to her roughly and put her arm around his waist.  "I always
liked you best, but Deb claimed you first.  Now she has to share."

Bert put his hand up, but Carolyn batted it away like she was shooing a
fly and pulled Bert's face down to hers to kiss him.

"You're going too far, Carrie."  Deb got up and tried to pry open her
sister's arm.

"Forget it, Deb.  You'd never do it in a thousand years.  I'm at least
three times as strong as you are."

Debra started crying.  "What's wrong with you, Carrie?  Why are you
being so mean?"  She runs out of the room.

"Shit!"  Carolyn dropped Bert again and ran after her sister.  "Deb!
Deb!  I'm sorry!!  Debbie-ie-ie!"  She started crying too.  She found
Debra sobbing in her room and she joined her, putting her arm around her
and sobbing next to her on the bed.  "I'm so, so sorry Deb.  Please
forgive me!  Pleeeeeese!  I've been so horrible.  Oh it's been so hard.
Please say you still love me!"

Debra turned her head and put her arm around Carolyn.  "Of course I
still love you, you dope," she said, still crying.

"I don't know why I've been so mean.  I've just been so lonely.  And
you've had Bert, and Bart died, and then ... Bret and oh, you don't know
what's happened."

"You can tell me, Carrie."

"No I can't.  I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

"Tell me, my little darling.  You can tell your big sister.  Even if I'm
not bigger than you anymore."  Debra smiled through her tears.  Carrie
was coming back to her.

"Oh, Debra!  If you knew what I've done!  It all started with Bart ...
when he was sick.  And I, I did something I shouldn't have done."

"What Carrie?  What?"

"He was so sick, and he thought he was dying, and he, he wanted me to
give him a, a blow job, and I thought it would be all right, because he
was so sick and maybe it would help him relax and I thought I loved him. 
So I did it.  And then he died.  He died so quickly afterwards.  And I
had just gone off to watch TV, 'cause I thought he was sleeping, but he
wasn't; he was dead!"

"But Carrie, that wasn't your fault.  You probably did make him happy.
And it could have been your fault.  Most men died."

"But you see, while he was dying, I was getting stronger.  I didn't know
it, but his cum is what made me so strong."

"What are you talking about?"

"You see!  I wasn't supposed to say anything.  They told me not to, the
Women's Party.  Somebody in town saw me and realized what I'd done,
unintentionally, and they told me I had to keep quiet about it, and join
the party.  Or else I'd get into real trouble.  And they seemed nice to
me, once I joined, but Deb, they're very serious and committed, and I'm
too young to get involved in that stuff, and I don't even understand
what they're doing or like it.  But I was really scared.  And then the
thing with Bret.  They told me to do it, to get him infected, and they
said it would happen anyway, and what to do, and I had to give him a
blow job when he got sick, and I did, and ... and I think he was DEAD
when I finished!  And I killed him!"

"Carrie!"

"Oh, Deb, it was so awful.  They said he would have died anyway,
probably, but I did it.  He'd still be there, in his house, if I hadn't
gone in there."

"You don't know that, Carrie.  Not for sure."

"Well, he might have been."

"Yeah, he might have."

"What should I do?"

"You killed my brother on purpose? "  Bert was at the door.

Debra jumped up.  "Shut up Bert.  You shut up and get away from here."
She pushed him away, and he practically flew down the hall, crashing
into the opposite wall, and Debra slammed the door.  "I can't believe he
was spying on us!"

"H-how much do you think he heard?  Do you think he -

"No, I think he just got up here.  He moves pretty slowly, you know."

"Yeah, he does, doesn't he?"  Carrie laughed.  "Oh Deb, I'm sorry I kept
it secret.  I'll never keep any secrets from you again!"

"That's all right, Carrie.  I understand."  She smiled.  "But don't do
it again."

"But what about the Woman's Party?  What will I tell them?"

"You just have to go along with them as much as you can, but we'll have
to figure out a way for you to ease out.  I don't think politics is
really for you."

"Oh no!  But they have big plans, Carrie.  You haven't heard half of it. 
President Rogers wants to run everything!  And all of us who've gotten
really strong.  We're supposed to be her private army!  It's not at all
like she said, following rules and everything.  They're going to take
over.  And the men, well, I'm glad I'm a girl!"

Debra looked at her and nodded her head.  "Yes, we are lucky, Carrie.
We'll have to be careful. Don't let anyone know you've told me.  I'll
take care of Bert.  O.K.?  We'll get you out of there, Carrie."

"Oh Deb.  Thank you!  Thank you!  I'm so sorry I said that about you and
Bert.  I understand, really, if you guys are in love and --"

"Don't worry about it, Carrie.  I have been selfish.  We'll share him,
from now on.  I promise."

The sisters hugged and laughed.  Then Carolyn pulled away, serious.

"Deb?"

"Yes, Carrie."

"They won't let him stay with us, you know.  They're going to take him
away."

"Where?"

"They're going to take all the guys, keep them separate, and safe, for
breeding."

Debra nodded.  "Uh huh."  She thought.  "There's nothing we can do,
Carrie, is there?"  Carolyn shook her head.  "Well then.  We'll just
have to enjoy him while we can.  O.K.?"  Carolyn nodded.  "O.K.!"


[End (for now)]