This choice: A virus, attacking the Y-Chromosome, which Felicitati added to all food • Go Back...Chapter #4A virus, attacking the Y-Chromosome, which Feli... by: Troy Troestrup   It is raining in the town of Roswell, Georgia. Dusk is about to set in. 9 pm. 14th of August 2099. But the street still looks like, what it did back in 2019. It has been repaired and refurnished of course, but the general look of it has not been altered. Still the same gray asphalt as always, and tonight you can see little round spots on it. Raindrops wetting it everywhere. Making it more slippery, but that doesn’t matter to you anyway. You haven’t owned a car for a while. More specifically, since President Catherine E. Redcliffe passed a relatively new law in congress back in 2091. You can’t remember what number the paragraph had (the women nowadays have created something like a jungle of laws, almost impossible to navigate, unless you are a skilled lawyer. However, you know that this would take at least twenty years to accomplish.), but you know exactly what it states. It is a rather simple rule actually: No man is allowed to own a driver’s license, and therefore he is restricted from operating any motorized vehicle.
‘Such a stupid law’, You think to yourself. You miss driving. It was one of the things that used to make life worth living… In your opinion.
But your opinion doesn’t matter much these days. You are just a history professor. Twice a week, you give a lecture about “Society in the beginning of the 21st century”. 95% of your students are young women. In fact, this semester, there has only been one guy, and you don’t even know his name yet. The guy doesn’t even look like a man yet.
‘He must be at least one year younger than 18.’, You thought to yourself during the last lecture, where he sat in one of the front rows.
You ponder the mysterious young boy for a minute, before you decide to cross the rainy street. You are very hungry, but being one of the few men, left on the planet, who knows about Felicitati’s doings, you know, how dangerous it can be just to go shopping in a normal grocery store.
During the time where you studied History at the University of Atlanta, back in what people these days refer to as “the new 80s”, you received a letter from your dad, in which he described a mysterious development in society. You don’t actually know, whether your father is alive yet, but what you definitely DO remember are the contents of the letter, which you have read multiple times, memorized and stored in a safe deposit box at home; behind a painting of a boy, riding a tricycle, no less (these kinds of what could perhaps be considered “extreme” security measures are of the utmost importance, as the local police department, which by the way only consists of highly trained and muscular women, frequent irregular, warranted searches of homes that house men).
As you stand there in the rain, mulling about the state of existence that you find your country in, you recall the short letter from your dad:
Dear son!
I can’t tell you, where I am, nor if I will ever be able to return to see you, but I must pass on this very important piece of information to you!
As you know, when your grandfather was still a young man… You know, Old Henry… Society looked a lot different. Not so many bright colors on the building facades and so on, but that’s not important. The important part is what your grandfather told me about a certain development in society, which, for some reason, allowed women to survive in much larger numbers than men, but no man has figured out yet, why. Seriously, not even a single one! And I am none the wiser either, but I am getting old, son, and now that your mother has kicked me out of the house and taken custody of your sister, I’ve had to flee the country. I can tell you at least that I am somewhere, where the status of man is still very close to equal to the one of a woman, although remotely only.
Anyway, you need to figure out what is behind all this… As impossible as it might seem. The amount of men on this planet are decreasing, and God only knows what kind of sick way, they have invented to procreate.
Love you, son!
Dad
As you go across the street while getting more and more wet, you see three young women, standing in front of the grocery store, you are headed towards. One of them scoffs in your direction, while another one mumbles something to her friend.
“Hey, Professor!” One of them finally yells to you. “Yeah, we know who you are. History, right?”
“Eh… Yeah. That’s right.” You say carefully.
“History is soooo hot!” One of them exclaims.
“Oh my god, yeah!” Another one reiterates.
Relieved, you continue to walk into the grocery store behind them. You have no idea where to start with regards to your dad’s letter. Right now, you are just hungry, as you walk along the isles of the store, you keep in mind what your father taught you: To look for a tiny logo on the packaging, which depicts a fish, swimming in a rectangular aquarium. This basically means “Smuggled goods” and products with this label have been produced and handled by men only, although the rest of the packaging looks like any other product. Luckily, there are still a few men left in the food industry who have influence with product declarations and even more lucky that no influential woman has figured the logo out yet. Although, it seems to be one of the last subject areas where men’s knowledge exceeds women’s. However, it is still one of the safest ways to buy food for yourself these days, unless you live exiled on a farm and grow the crops yourself.
You look at the price tag of a can of beans and rice and realize that the smuggled goods are not as expensive anymore, as they used to be. This is odd, because as a history professor you have a very thorough knowledge of the increasing price for smuggled goods during the last century. Of course, this is a very widely discussed topic in today’s media, since most women want to implement more sanctions and government intervention to stop it. In your darkest hours, you often humorously compare the situation to the illegal black market of drugs in the 2010s, not that this comparison makes the situation today any less true. A lot of people just seem to have forgotten it, but then again… That is why you are a teacher.
While taking joy in this fact, you pay the very overweight woman behind the register for the can of beans and rice, gently nod and smile to her and leave the store.
Though, as soon as you step outside the door, a police officer blocks your path.
“Did you see three women here before?” She asks. “Like 10 minutes ago.”
“Well… Yeah… Yes, I did.” You say, a bit startled.
“Did you have sex with any of them?” The police officer counters immediately.
“Wait, what? No!” You answer, being shocked.
“I remind you. Recently, it has become a federal offense for a man to have sex with a woman. Plus, it is frowned upon very strongly.” The police officer said. “… Think it’s got something to do with crowd control. President Redcliffe was very insistent about reducing the number of your gender during her campaign, and she’s been known to keep her promises.”
“But I haven’t slept with any of those women who were here before!” You protest.
“Alright, alright…”, she agrees. “… I believe you.”
A moment later you hear the familiar “ding”-sound from the bell, after the police officer has entered the grocery store herself, but as you turn around, one of the women from before appears right in front of your and runs into your arms, grabs your butt and kisses you on the mouth. You feel a tongue extending deep into your mouth, and you can’t help but counter it a little.
After a few seconds, you gently spin her around about 180 degrees, so you can scout for the police officer who thankfully still has her back facing you and the woman.
While the woman is still kissing you, you try to pull her aside to go behind the store. Out of sight of the police officer, but the woman is surprisingly strong and manages to pin you down right on the corner of the façade.
“Ohh, this is exhilarating!” She whispers a bit too loudly for your comfort. “I am so horny! Haven’t been taken by a real man in months… You like my hair? … Blonde is not my natural color… I just dye it… Just like my eyebrows … I want to do you like a true cowgirl … Yeeeee!”
It is hard to get a word in edgewise, while she is ranting on about what sexual positions, she has tried. You can’t really get out of the grip, she is holding you in, since she is now on top of you, pinning your arms to the ground, still yapping quietly about her favorite color and stuff.
You feel very powerless, but just as you are facing the prospect of the police officer walking out of the store to catch you and Mrs.-Fake-Blonde in a federally illegal act, you notice the woman reaching for something behind her…
Is this your shot tilt her off and run home, or do you want to find out what in God’s name, she is fumbling for to make this forbidden, fruitful sex act even sweeter?
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