Valentines Day Virus
- 4 years ago
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The X-Virus free porn video
This is a rough idea which popped into my head one night. The TG part is a
bit unusual, but I hope you find the story enjoyable.
The X-Virus
by Elrod W.
It's been ten years now, and the chaos has pretty much settled down. The
government, for once, did something right and actually helped get things
under control. Of course, we Y-guys still encounter a little hostility and
resentment; I guess that's natural, given what happened. Some of the
government boys asked me to help with the history of the big change. Of
course, with my status as a Y-guy, I could have turned them down. We can
pretty much do anything we want these days.
Let me begin at the beginning.
It started seventeen years ago, with the launch of the third Discoverer probe.
After the NASA boys found evidence of liquid water on Jupiter's moons,
they naturally wanted to go have a look. I guess, in retrospect, we should
have been more cautious. But after the fear of life from the Apollo lunar
landings, and the false hopes of life on Mars, we were pretty complacent.
And so we launched the Discoverer probes. Their mission - fly to Jupiter,
land on Titan and other moons, and if they found ice, burrow into the ice in
search of water, and possible life, and return samples.
Two of the five probes didn't even make it to Jupiter - low bid contracts, you
understand. Of the other three, only Discoverer 3 found liquid water. It was a
truly historic day, as the media said, when the Discoverer sample capsule re-
entered the Earth's atmosphere. 'A day which will change mankind.' Of
course, they had been thinking of the start of a new era of exploration, of a
new way of looking at the heavens and seeing the possibilities that we really
weren't alone. It did change mankind, only not in ways that anyone was
prepared for.
It all started at the JPL quarantine lab, in Pasadena, California. JPL was in
charge of the missions, and they built a multi-million dollar, high-tech
receiving lab. It had the latest and greatest biological quarantine and isolation
equipment. But nothing is foolproof, and in this case, the fool was a janitor.
One of the scientists was doing an experiment late one night on a tiny sample
of the Titan water. He thought he was seeing some primitive viral traces. In
his excitement, he ran off to find some colleagues to confirm his results.
Things would have been all right, but then the hapless janitor came into the
lab to clean. After all, it was very late, and cleaning was his job. Seeing some
gunk in the glove box, he opened it and wiped it out, rinsing his rag in his
wash bucket. And since this was the last room, he went to the janitor's
closet, dumped his pail down the drain, and went home.
When the scientists came back in, they found the open glovebox, and the
cleaning residue. To say the least, panic ensued. The JPL staff decided, after
long meetings with NASA headquarters, that they should quietly watch for
any effects, while studying the remaining samples.
The janitor, meanwhile, found himself having some embarrassing problems.
For one thing, he found it more and more difficult to get sexually aroused.
And then he started developing breasts. So he went to his doctor. The
doctors, of course, took lots of blood samples, and eventually identified
some strange viral particles infecting the poor man. If you could call him that,
that is. Besides affecting his sex drive, he was developing breasts, and his
genitalia was atrophying. In short, his dick shrivelled. And so the tests went
on. And pretty soon, some of the physicians and lab technicians who had
been working with him started exhibiting similar symptoms.
By now, the JPL labs had discovered that the water did indeed contain viral
traces, as well as a host of unusual bacteria. They published the results
proudly, proclaiming that they had found life 'out among the stars'. Okay, it
sounds hokey, and they took a lot of poetic license, but these guys weren't
journalists.
And, by the way, they published another result - the viruses they found were
remarkably resilient. Which was not unexpected, given the harsh
environment they had come from.
The doctors, on the other hand, were getting very concerned. The strange
symptoms were starting to spread. It loved moisture, and was remarkably
able to survive. It spread easily in any moisture - coughing, mists, exhaled
breath. They called in the Center for Disease Control.
By now, two or three percent of the Orange County area males had been
exposed, even though they hadn't started developing symptoms. And then
the symptoms started. Thousands of men were suddenly finding it hard to get
hard, and were starting to feel some breast growth. The poor janitor was now
a D-cup - bigger, in fact, than his wife, and he never went outside anymore.
But he'd already done the damage. He'd been the original 'Typhoid Mary',
spreading the infection.
The CDC eventually discovered that the viral structure matched that seen in
the JPL samples. So the JPL scientists and the CDC scientists squared off in
the President's office. To call it a shouting match is being kind. Suffice to say
that they eventually agreed that they had an epidemic on their hands, one
unlike any seen on Earth, and that if they were to stop it, they had to work
fast.
The news of the virus had been hidden - mostly through luck, although some
still believe it was a government conspiracy to keep the masses ignorant.
Eventually, though, a young woman, eager to make a mark as an
investigative reporter, started asking questions when her male friends weren't
able to perform. And she noticed that some of her colleagues seemed to be
growing breasts. She snooped. The story broke. And the virus got its name -
the X-virus, so called not because of the popular TV show, but because it
was acting like an X-chromosome to infected males.
We didn't know it, yet, but the virus had already spread world-wide. Similar
cases were showing up in Asia, Europe, Africa - everywhere. Within five
months of the viral release, it was estimated that ten percent of the world was
infected. Given that the virus had a three week incubation period, during
which the victim was contagious but asymptomatic, it was easy to see why it
had spread so fast.
World virus experts were frantically searching for some way to slow the
damned thing. As soon as a protein fragment was isolated, drugs were
synthesized to try to counter infection. Bio-engineered viruses tried to
replicate its structure, to derive a vaccine. Everyone tried to kill the virus, to
use its killed form for immunization. All of these efforts failed. The virus was
exceedingly complex, and extraordinarily hardy. It proved nearly impossible
to kill, especially without destroying the structure. Every vaccine attempt
failed. Compared to this critter, AIDS had been a walk in the park.
A rather fatalistic mood was sweeping the world - the prophets of doom were
having a field day. Man by the millions got depressed as their cherished dicks
atrophied to tiny stumps, while their balls dried to tiny raisins in wrinkled
scrotums. Suicide alone took nearly a billion men. The rest were pretty much
zoned on Prozac and other anti-depressants. The only bright spot was the
brassiere industry - the breast growth was not only universal, but it was very
dramatic. C, D, DD, and larger cups were suddenly in very short supply,
especially in those sizes appropriate for a man's chest. In some places, the
ancient taboos on bare breasts were torn down overnight as men sprouted
mammaries.
But the mood of gloom was universal. When the plague was complete, there
would be no fertile sexually capable men able to carry on the species. Some
of the more vocal and nutty women's libbers were pronouncing their delight -
and demanding that the government research be directed at allowing the
fusing of eggs so that women could carry on - without men.
And then, someone at the CDC noticed that there were a few men who were
not displaying symptoms - especially the noticable boobs - even though their
blood samples showed high virus counts. It turned out that, if you happened
to be blood type O negative, you had a 30 to 40 percent chance of being
immune.
I was one of the lucky ones. Thought I came from a large family, I was the
only male not to be affected. It was a terrible shock to be gathered with the
family at Thanksgiving, being the only one at the table without boobs, seeing
the smooth crotches of my brothers and nephews. My youngest brother was
even wearing panties, since they fit much better, and openly discussed having
an operation to complete the female genitalia. The discussion turned ugly at
one point, though, since most of the X-guys (the newspaper's term, not
mine) were resentful of my still having a dick. In the end, my grandmother
restored order, but I knew that the congenial family relations were gone
forever. I feared that the argument was a foretaste of things to come. I was
right.
I wasn't three weeks later when a Y-guy was brutally murdered by a bunch
of X-guys. They viciously emasculated him while he screamed in agony,
then stuffed the severed organs into his mouth, causing him to choke on them
while they took turns beating him. With the press coverage given this story,
and the copycats around the world, most of us Y-guys quit going outside. It
was just too dangerous.
That's when the government took the first positive step. Declaring a state of
national emergency, the President (in a nice tailored jacket designed to
actually emphasize his boobs) spoke often about the crisis, and how we
needed to pull together, to think of the future of humanity. Congress gave
him temporary emergency powers, and passed a number of crime bills
protecting the one percent of us Y-guys. The judicial system was immediately
overhauled - all male judges were replaced with women. Policemen got desk
jobs - policewomen walked the beat. The women knew that they had to
protect us Y-guys - and they did. Conviction of murder of a Y-guy (if the
murders survived to trial) carried an automatic death sentence without hope of
appeal. Firearms were prohibited to X-guys, but we Y-guys could get any
weapons we felt we needed without question.
We became a bit bolder, able to venture outside more often, although I
personally never went out without my pistol. Trouble seemed to have been
quashed. We didn't know it was just simmering, waiting for a flash point.
The riots started out as a simple bar fight. An X-guy's wife left him looking
foolish when she went up to a Y-guy and started flirting, clearly looking for
some sexual adventure. The X-guy got mad and punched the Y-guy. The Y-
guy drew his .44 and blew a hole in the head of the X-guy. And the rest of
the X-guys in the bar reacted. They tore the Y-guy apart, literally, then went
on a rampage. And with every passing moment, the mob grew larger and
angrier. Hundreds of us Y-guys were brutally murdered by the vicious mob.
Eventually, an all female battalion of the Army was called in, the now-famous
'Amazon Battalion'. By the time they arrived, the streets were littered with
burned-out cars, shells of still-burning shops, and barely-recognizable
remains of Y-guys. The top brass in the Pentagon, recognizing the need to set
an example, held a cease-fire order from the President for two days, letting
the Amazons run wild. When it was over, nearly twenty-seven thousand X-
guys were dead - massacred by the Amazons in this country's most brutal
police action to date.
Hostilities ran so deep that Y-guys took to disguises to hide among the X-
guys. I myself got breast implants so I wouldn't stand out. Damned
uncomfortable things, if you ask me. No wonder the X-guys were pissed!
But the nasty repression of the riots by the Amazons did set an example.
After that, incidents of anti-Y-guy violence dropped to almost zero. A year
after the riots were over, I got the pesky implants removed.
Last year, the Congress finally overturned the anti-bigamy laws. About time,
even though it hasn't been enforced since the plague. There's even talk of
mandating multi-partner marriage. And the government, in perhaps only the
fourth wise move since its founding, provided medical benefits for any X-
guy who wants surgery to complete the change.
Being a Y-guy isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'm always out of energy, even
without working. Like so many other Y-guys, I live in a nice mansion - mine
is in Beverly Hills - surrounded by hundreds of women. When I started my
own harem, I stuck to the younger women, mostly brunettes and redheads.
Let someone else have the blonds. And the big tits. (I personally can't stand
them anymore - every X-man has a pair.) But lately, I've found that older
women have a lot going for them, too. And in a move that surprised even me,
I've added a few dozen converted X-men to my harem. They aren't too bad,
actually. Some of the regular women even get pretty jealous for my
affections.
With the new laws, I've got it easy. If any woman displeases me, I can
divorce her in seconds. Just boot, she's out! Naturally, they all try hard to
please me. And the sex! Most people think we Y-guys enjoy all the sex.
Actually, it gets old. Only the variety of partners keeps any interest. With the
hormone supplements, I have to service ten or twelve of my girls a day!
As I sit here writing my memories of the changes, I have two of my boys on
my lap. They are only three, but both are immune. They'll grow up to be
healthy strapping Y-guys, and be able to have their pick of women. I've got
probably sixteen kids around the house, but only these two are Y-guys, so
they are naturally my favorites. The government says it'll take a few
generations to get a male-female ratio back up. Right now, it's about 175 to 1
(counting the changed X-guys). I'd much rather it was about 20 to 1, but
that'll take time. So my two Y-guys will grow up with women all over them,
eager to please them, wanting for nothing. My other sons (I don't remember
how many) will all probably get the operation.
Well, Tiffany just told me my youngest son, three days old, has tested as a
full-fledged Y-guy! Great news. In celebration, I think I'll give her a good
lay! She is pretty sexy - for a former X-guy!
FIN??
Louise
- 09.06.2021
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