Death by Fucking
© 2005 by Andrew Wiggin
Chapter
25
The Quick Years
The Year 13
Deirdre’s Story:
I had to go into town to
pick up something at the drugstore, so I grabbed Emma to go along for the
ride. We have a rule in our house: no parent goes anywhere without
being accompanied by an eKid.
There have been rumblings
over the years about us. We’ve heard them. We’ve read about
them. We aren’t necessarily the most popular people in eastern
The eKids are
powerful. No one really knows how powerful. We’ve spent their
lifetime trying to teach them not to abuse their powers. And in the
idyllic existence we’ve made for them, why should they have to display their
strengths?
Emmy and I had been into
the drugstore to pick up a prescription to help Donnie and me with our
menopausal woes. We had parked in the little parking lot in the alley
behind the store. The drugstore was one of the old-fashioned ones that
still have a soda fountain, so Emma had lingered behind to pick up something to
drink. I should know better than to walk the streets alone, but
Statesboro is such a lovely, safe little town.
I saw him standing in the
alley. I know it is my prejudices speaking, but I just am less than
comfortable around men who have tattoos covering their entire bodies from the
chin down; especially ones who weigh two hundred and fifty pounds and wear
leather vests with no shirt.
As I approached my car,
he stepped in front of me.
“Hey, baby. Where you goin’ in such a hurry?”
For the first time I
looked him in the eye. I would have looked him in the eyes, but one of
his was obviously glass.
I said, “Excuse me, sir,
but you are in my way.” I quickly glanced around and realized that I saw
no one. I suspected that this man may not have my best interests at heart, so I
issued a little mental distress call to my daughter, still in the
drugstore.
He said, “You’re her,
ain’t ya’ babe?”
I replied, “I’m who?”
He laughed. “You’re
the Progenitor’s bitch! I’ve seen pictures of your naked ass. I’ve
always wanted to see that ass for myself. Come on, baby, let me see that
ass.”
I said, “Please young
man, you don’t really want to talk to me that way. It would be best if
you just backed away before someone gets hurt.”
Just then Emma walked out
of the drugstore and came hurrying up to me.
“Momma, is everything all
right?”
I said, “Everything’s
fine, sweetie. This man is going to allow us to walk past him and go to
our car.”
But the man had other
ideas. “Damn, you are one hot little thing! You’re sexier than your
mama. I might just have to do me a family sandwich. Yeah, you two
are goin’ to have a good time with me.”
Then the huge ugly thing
drew out a large ugly knife. “Why don’t you two just get in the back of
my van over there? It’s time for a little mother-daughter fuckin’.”
Emma actually
laughed. “
I have no idea why she
finds situations like this amusing. I said, “Now Emma, you leave the man
alone. I’m sure that he doesn’t mean any harm.”
The fat ugly thing looked
confused. “What the hell are you two sluts talkin’ about? Now get
in the van before I cut someone!”
Suddenly the man looked
past us and I saw a look of fear come into his eyes. I turned but
couldn’t see anything. Emma whispered to me, “You wanna hear this?”
I just nodded.
In my mind I heard a
herald of trumpets followed by a voice that sounded suspiciously like Cecil B.
DeMille in “The Ten Commandments”. You’d think that Emma would have some
originality.
The voice said, “Thus
saith the
I whispered to Emma, “Is
that really in the Bible?”
Emma said to the fat man,
“It looks like you already did the eye part; how about the dick?”
The fat man looked
stricken. He pulled down the zipper of his pants and reached in and
pulled out a truly puny penis. I said to Emma, “For heaven’s sake, don’t
let him cut it off!”
I heard the sonorous
voice of DeMille shout “Stop! Go sinner and sin no more! If you try
this again, you will be eating your balls for breakfast!”
The fat man turned and
ran like hell. Both Emma and I were laughing by the time the man’s van
had sped down the street. I hugged her. She can turn even a
dangerous event into a comic misadventure.
I said, “Emma, that man
is a menace to society. We should do something to be sure he doesn’t try
to harm anyone else.”
She laughed. “I saw
‘A Clockwork
I was shocked.
“Emma, I didn’t know you had any religion at all. When did you read the
Bible?”
She just shrugged.
“Of course I’ve read the Bible. Do you take me for an illiterate? H. sapiens like their religion, Momma. I sensed
that the fat man was raised in one of those Southern Baptist sects that drive
Daddy crazy. He doesn’t go to church, but he still thinks he will burn in
hell for all of the bad things he has done. Maybe now he’ll stop doing
bad things and he will end up in whatever weird little vision of heaven he sees.
“One day I’m going to
write a book quoting all the contradictory passages in the Bible. I’ll
write a chapter using one set of verses, then another chapter condemning the
previous chapter with another set of verses. I’ll call it ‘Dueling
Bibles’”.
I was horrified.
“Well if you do, please use an assumed name. Don’t mention your father at
all. Please don’t involve IAM in this. Most of the Religious Right
already believes that we are blasphemers and heretics. Your father is the
Anti-Christ. Don’t give them any more ammunition.”
We drove home.
Everyone was waiting for us and we were mobbed when we got out of the
car. Andrew looked so worried. I don’t now whether Emma had somehow
let the others know about our little confrontation, or if the others had sensed
it by themselves.
He said, “Dee Dee, are
you okay? Emmy, are you all right? That S.O.B. didn’t hurt you, did
he?”
Before Andrew could start
lecturing me on making sure I am safe, I went for a preemptive strike.
I said, “Andrew, just
calm down. We were never in danger. Emma is our personal little
anti-violence crusader. She convinced the man to leave us alone and to be
good from now on. He won’t be a danger to anyone ever again.”
Andrew hugged Emma.
He always hugs Emma. I heard him whisper to her, “Maybe we can sneak you
into the White House. You can train the President to be anti-violent and
we can stop having all of these crazy little wars.”
She just smiled and
basked in his affection. She is a sucker for her Daddy’s affection.
So am I.
The Year 18
Donnie’s
Story:
New Man U.
New
After we received our
charter we started hiring the best possible faculty. We pay top dollar to
top-of-the-line professors who want an opportunity to teach the intellectual
elite of the world. The top minds on earth don’t teach at
We’ve got research
facilities being built constantly, upgrading to state-of-the-art hardware, much
of it designed by our own students. We’ve received additional funding
from major corporations who only want the opportunity to take advantage of the
research that is a minor by-product of the education of the next
generation. None of that research involves weapons.
Ours is a unique
setup. Every attendee of New Man U. is on full scholarship. We
don’t charge anything. However, we make them sign an honor pledge when
they come to school. They agree to give the University endowment fund 10%
of the net profits of anything they develop while in attendance, continuing for
five years after graduation.
We don’t do
contracts. Contracts are things written to let people know what they can
do to get out of the terms of the contract. We don’t work that way.
We have the eKids state that on their honor they will give back to the
university some of what they got out of it. There is a stipulation in the
pledge that if any kid really needs the money, the pledge is null and
void. They can honor the pledge or not honor the pledge. There is
nothing legally binding about it. We try to teach them that legality
doesn’t matter. It is their word of honor that counts.
We aren’t a four-year
college. An eKid can come to New Man U., stay for as long as she likes, announce her graduation and leave. If at some point
later the eKid decides to return to the University, she will merely renounce
her degree and come back. All of the older eKids are females. The
D-generation didn’t start popping out males until later.
We’ve only been around
for ten years, but governments and businesses are panting for the graduates of
So we teach them right
from wrong, insofar as we understand it. I’m sure that soon they will be
teaching us. Each and every one of them is a potential weapon. Each
can achieve whatever he desires in the world of H. sapiens.
Is it wrong for us to want them to fulfill their dreams without
destroying the dreams of others? Is it wrong to teach them to leave a minimalist
footprint wherever they walk?
One could call us
bleeding heart liberals, I suppose, even though we don’t look at ourselves that
way. We look for a world where everyone is treated with respect and
honor. That’s our goal, Andrew’s, Dee Dee’s and mine. Before the
first brick was laid, the first foundation dug, the first professor
interviewed, we had a plan in place. We were going to create a wedge of
intelligence and goodwill designed to split apart the mean-spirited, greedy,
and self-destructive world that H. sapiens had created.
All of the living
quarters and most of the college itself is
underground. Our son Ethan designed a plan that called for minimally
invasive buildings. There are people movers, also underground, taking
students and faculty, mothers and fathers back and forth between their homes,
classrooms, facilities, and the underground parking garage. So except for
the few original buildings that were designed by an H. sapiens
architect, and which are quite lovely, the area of the University and the
Institute for the Advancement of Mankind still retains its antebellum
appearance. Well, except for Andrew’s tennis court and our swimming pool.
Because very young
children come to New Man U., usually they are accompanied by their mothers,
fathers or both. We provide room and board for them, too. And that
gives us a nice pool of people to draw on for the University and corporate
staff. We offer extremely competitive wages, full health care, and a very
nice 401k plan. Our staff doesn’t have to drive to work and they can eat
for free in the cafeteria.
On the other hand, we
don’t need a bursar’s office since we don’t charge anything. We don’t
have a recruitment office. Well, there aren’t that many applicants to
consider, just the current batch of New Men. And if the family situation
allows, they all come here. They certainly can’t attend any normal
school. Where else could they go?
Our only qualification
for admission is proof of IQ. In an ecumenical move, we have allowed any
person with an IQ above 180 to come to
Oh, have I mentioned who
runs the place? That’s me: Dr. Donna M. Adkins, PhD., President of
The Year 20
Andrew’s Story
Someone has to do the
administrative work around here. Donnie sits in the President’s office
and looks official. Dee Dee spends all her time dealing with the family’s
business interests. That leaves me to do the dirty work. I try to
put in four to eight hours a day at New Man U., just handling all the things
that have to be handled in the life of a college. Even New Man U. has
things that have to be dealt with.
So I have me an office, a
workstation, a laser printer. I feel like I’m back at AWC but have moved
up a step in middle-management. I’m not complaining. As I said,
someone has to do this shit. Might as well be me.
I have a few
administrative assistants under me, figuratively speaking. I’m pretty
sure that at least one of them would like it to be more than figurative, if you
know what I mean.
Every woman who works at New Man U. is a D-generation twin from
the President on down. That’s a little freaky.
Well they are here anyway supporting their kids. I can’t think of many
other colleges where the students have their mommies with them. I’m just
being a grump. I hate doing all of this paperwork.
So Doris Fleming is one
of my Administrative Assistants. I mean, what is it with this job
terminology today? She’s a fucking secretary! Why don’t we just
admit it?
This is one sexy
chick. Just about every time she comes in to my office to deliver a paper
or pick up something or ask for assistance, she comes around my desk and leans
over me. She has left a permanent impression of her tit on my arm.
She’s always touching me, thanking me for my help with a peck on the cheek or a
quick hug. It’s driving me nuts.
This girl is one of the
youngest of the D-generation. She is in her early thirties. And she
looks excellent. I’m not immune to such things, you know. Try
having some lovely young thing hanging over you all day long and see how you
feel.
I mentioned it to Dee Dee
the other day, how
She said, “You’ve still
got it, Andrew.”
The woman loves to see me
suffer. She knows perfectly well that there is no danger that I’ll accept
these advances. As a matter of fact, I was deep into Dee Dee when I told
her about the way
She said, “Andrew, I’m a
busy woman. Can’t this wait until a more appropriate time?”
I knew she was yanking my
chain. She loves to see me suffer. I said, “Deirdre, there will
never be a more appropriate time than the present. It’s as appropriate as
it is ever going to get. It’s extremely fucking appropriate! Just
put the ‘out to lunch’ placard on your door and let’s go upstairs.”
She said, “Sweetie you
are so romantic. You just sweep a girl right off of her feet.”
I was getting
desperate. “Baby, I really need you right now. Come upstairs and
I’ll tell you about it. But I know I’ll be a lot more comfortable
discussing it while we are doing our Vulcan Mind Meld thing.”
I could see that Dee Dee
was pleased with my discomfiture. “Really, Andrew, I can’t remember when
you were so eager for me. I remember a night back in
I guess I was practically
dragging her upstairs. We got in our bedroom and I attacked her. I
couldn’t help it. Her clothes were flying. My clothes were
flying. I picked her up and kissed her as I carried her to the bed.
Dee Dee
is older now, and she requires a little working up to
become properly lubricated. But I was ecstatic to note that her juices
were already flowing. I’ve still got it? She’s still
got it! The woman is fifty-five years old and still loves to make
love. I think she really likes to know that she makes me hot.
It’s not something that I
can hide from them you know. We have this thing between us, Donnie and
Dee Dee and me. We feel each other’s emotions. It is a gift that
Emmy gave us many years ago. We are an open book to each other.
She’s fifty-five and
already past menopause. I’m forty-five and still horny. It doesn’t
matter. She is still the same enthusiastic bed partner; still the
soft and lovely girl of my dreams. Age will never wither her beauty; nor
slow down her sex drive, apparently, thank goodness.
She lay on the bed with
that Mona
This still happens every
now and then. I get crazed, I guess. I have to take her, hard.
I get this overwhelming feeling of possessiveness or lust, one of those.
I know she’s mine. Deep in her soul, down at her most primitive, primal
level, she belongs to only me and always has. Just as I belong to only
her.
I like the way
I rubbed my dick around
Deirdre’s sexy and soft pussy lips, just to pick up some of her
lubrication. Well, hell, it felt damn good
too! And then I drove it home.
Dee Dee’s eyes glazed
over as she felt the force of my entrance. I couldn’t help it; I slammed
into her, making her, marking her. She knew that this was going to be one
of those fucks. I think she really likes one of those fucks.
My mouth was suckling her
left nipple; my right hand was fondling that wonderful tit of hers. It’s
like cotton candy or clouds or something. Her breasts are so soft, so
light, they practically defy gravity.
I was hammering my cock
into her, eliciting moans of arousal and delight from my arousing, delightful
wife. I lifted my mouth from her tit and we kissed. Her lips are as
soft as the rest of her. We were full circle, my mouth on her lips, my
dick buried deeply within her, our souls merged in our dance of love and
passion.
I mean,
I was having my way with
Dee Dee. I guess she was having her way with me too. Our souls were
in synch, but in these kinds of fucks, these balls-to-the-wall monkey fucks,
our souls played second fiddle to our mutual, seemingly unquenchable,
lust. We were humping like two teenagers on their first date.
Our lives were centered
on the skin-to-skin contact of my dick and her pussy. Nothing else
mattered. Our intensity increased as our motions became more frenzied,
wilder, more animalistic. She loves me to fuck
her this way. I can feel it. Sometimes she likes my easy going
nature to become subservient to my implacable need. I think it’s
reassuring to her to know that after twenty plus years I can still be crazed by
my desire for only my wives. No one else will do.
She brought her knees up
until they were almost touching her tits. I drilled deeper within her and
she clawed my back with her approval, with her lust. Suddenly she was screaming
her completion. I felt the spasming of her cunt and her passion caused me
to explode within her. My pumping semen prolonged her climax as her pussy
clenched around my dick. We’ve fucked maybe five or six thousand times in
our lives and the next one will still be like the first. She is so
sensual, so submissive, so demanding, so Deirdre. My love for her is so
deep that I couldn’t live without her.
I just held her for a
while, basking in the afterglow, feeling the resurgent shocks passing through
my sweet lover’s body as it fought to come down from her passionate high.
I was still semi-hard so I just stayed inside her. Being inside Deirdre
is one of my two favorite places in the world to be.
At first her eyes were
closed, her face was in that grimace, that sexual clench she acquires when in
the deepest throes of her most intense orgasms. She calls it death by
fucking. But I looked again and now she was wearing that beatific smile,
the one that makes her look like the most softly contented woman in the
world.
She said, “Thank you,
Andrew. That was lovely. I’ll have to thank Doris Fleming.”
I had to laugh. My
wife knows me at the molecular level. I said, “That woman is all over me,
Dee Dee. My right arm is familiar with every inch of her left tit.
She’s always finding some reason to rub against me, giving me little pecks on
the cheek, stuff like that.”
Deirdre asked, “Is she
sexy?”
I said, “Does a cat have
an ass?”
She looked
confused. “Well, I suppose it does.”
I said, “There you go.”
Jealousy went out the
window in our relationship a long, long time ago. I might have
experienced some jealous twinges with Donnie at one time in my life, but other
than that we just trust each other. Deirdre and I have known from the
beginning that we didn’t have room in our hearts for anyone else,
we are so full of love for each other. This wasn’t a jealousy
thing. I could feel that mostly Dee Dee was concerned for
She said, “Perhaps I
should talk to her. We don’t want the poor girl to have any false
hopes. On the other hand, if she just likes to flirt then my philosophy
is: whatever stokes your furnace is okay with me. Is it all right if I
tell her that?”
I said, “Just make sure
she knows you are Deirdre and not Donnie. Donnie is her boss. You
are just the beautiful woman that works next door.”
She smiled that smile,
the one that ignites her eyes, the one that dazzled me from the moment I met
her. She said, “Perhaps I should talk to Donnie first. If it’s all
right with her maybe we can give
“Don’t even go there, Dee
Dee! You’re pulling my chain again. We stopped those years ago and
they are going to stay stopped. Just tell the woman that if she throws
herself naked on my desk I’ll just look at her appreciatively for a moment and
then go fuck my wife.”
She laughed. Dee
Dee loves life like no one I’ve ever known. “Okay,
sweetie. I’ll defuse the situation for you,
bring Doris down as gently as possible. But if she is just flirting, do
you mind if she continues? I kind of like being ravished every now and
then.”
I said, “Are you
kidding? She’s a great girl. I love her flirting with me.
Just as long as she knows that it won’t go anywhere. I mean, she’s married
too, isn’t she? Maybe she just likes to work herself up for her husband.”
Dee Dee looked at me
askance. She said, “Andrew that’s one of the things I love about
you. You are so innocent.”
What the hell is that
supposed to mean?
The Year 30
Deirdre’s Story
Sixty-five! We are
sixty-five years old. We’ve been with our sweetheart for thirty
years. Where’d they go? It seems that what we do today just fades
from my mind, but what we did then is fresh and new. We’re getting old.
Not Andrew, of
course. He still is a young man by any standards. His hair is
starting to thin just a bit, and there are a few touches of gray in his
sideburns. But he remains tall, dark and handsome.
Our Andrew is just about
the most famous man in the world. He is the Progenitor. He is
loved, he is hated. No one is indifferent to our Andrew.
He finds it all so
amusing, as do I. From his point of view he has done little to deserve
this notoriety. He’s had sex with a few thousand women who have given
birth to thousands of his offspring, who in turn gave birth to tens of
thousands of his grandchildren. Is it his fault that every one of them belong to a new species of man? Well, of course it
is. That’s what we were shooting for from the beginning. But he
looks at it more as a lucky coincidence. He refuses to take credit for
being the father of a new race.
But
At first it was for
policemen. We started small. We set up a scholarship fund for the
children of all of Georgia’s policemen. Any that were accepted to college
were eligible at first for free tuition, and then later for a full ride
including room and board. As Andrew said, what were we going to do with
all of that money? We had our home, our family, our little slice of
paradise. Anything more would be obscene.
As the money just poured
in, we expanded state by state. So now the children of any policeman in
the
Of course, Andrew’s
devious mind had a secondary motivation beyond the philanthropy. He knew
that as we grew, as New Man had an ever greater impact on society that
eventually things would come to a head, either with the government or the
religious zealots or both. When that time came, well at least the police
would be on our side. Oh boy, were they! But that’s a topic for
another time.
As New Man U. has
expanded over the years to accommodate more and more students, its footprint on
the land has hardly changed at all. Our sons have delved deeper and
deeper into leading-edge architecture and energy conservation. So now New
Man U. is an underground complex big enough to comfortably hold a small
city. And yet the local farmers continue to plow their land, hardly
noticing the activity going on barely 20 yards beneath their feet.
I’m afraid that in
today’s environment of hand-held nuclear devices and first resort terrorism,
we’ve been forced to make New Man U. into a veritable fortress. The witch
hunters of the Right consider us to be morally bankrupt, evil, and a danger to
them all. Actually they are correct about the third point. Their
particular brand of vitriolic hate will never survive in the face of the
unrelenting goodness that is
The environment disasters
that have assaulted the world in the last fifty years continue to leave
everyone’s future in doubt. Much of the research at the college has been
related to alternative energy sources, efficient food growth, anything that can
reduce the demands that we must make on the ever dwindling resources of the
earth.
And we are doing
everything we can to help
I’m afraid that our
sexual lives have slowed a bit over recent years. Andrew remains Andrew,
always ready and eager. He still finds us irresistible. But Donnie
and I have been forced to slow down. Goodness, we are sixty-five years
old! We’ve decided the best way to go is to alternate. Donnie will
have her turn, there will be a day of rest. I’ll have
my turn followed by another day of rest. It’s certainly less spontaneous,
but it is still wonderful. Now each of us only does it about twice a
week. Which means Andrew is getting laid four times a week. That’s
not bad for a fifty-five year old man, is it? From what I understand,
that’s not bad for a twenty-five year old man.
Many years ago Emma
joined our souls together. We call it interactive love. So even if
only one of us is joined with Andrew at a time, the other still shares the
emotional attachment. So our sexual and romantic lives remain full.
It’s just that we are no longer at full throttle as we once were.
And we don’t have as many
of what Andrew refers to as ‘monkey fucks’. The world thinks of him as
such a suave and sophisticated man, but Donnie and I know the truth. Sometimes
I think he is still a teenager. But no, he doesn’t ravish us like he used
to. It’s to protect us. He’s a sweet and sensitive lover. He
fears hurting us. We’re small boned, and osteoporosis is a real
concern.
Goodness me, our memories
are fading, our bodies are falling apart, and still we’re getting laid twice a
week. If that doesn’t keep us young, nothing will.