Tatiana Odesa was wearing only underwear while she was reading in her tiny apartment. She was stripped down because it was hot in her apartment and she didn’t have air conditioning.
Unlike her usual choice of reading, this time she wasn’t reading political history or reviewing a training manual, this time she was poring over a fashion magazine. A western fashion magazine, dreaming about what it was like to actually live in the decadent west and have this enormous variety of clothing to choose from. She actually had a fairly large collection of this type of magazine, all assembled and carefully studied in the guise of doing research for her job.
She imagined herself wearing some of the more revealing attire and realized that she found the thought enjoyable. She wondered if she dared order some from the capitalist purveyors, on the theory that if she received a sudden assignment sending her into Western Europe, that she would need appropriate things to wear and wouldn’t have time to shop. Ordering the clothing now would mean she had the necessary tools on hand if the assignment came, so she was only preparing herself to serve her country. She was trying to convince herself that she could actually sell that argument when her phone rang. The Director’s secretary was on the line. The Director wanted to see her within the hour.
Finally, she thought, feeling pleased and somewhat excited, another assignment. I wonder where I might be sent. America would be nice, but I’m not senior enough yet for one of those missions. She stifled minor regret at that thought and went slowly to her closet to select something from her rather meager collection. On her way to her closet she puzzled over the thought that she was being called to the Director’s office and not to her immediate superior’s. That was very strange.
Her impulse was to wear something short and airy because Moscow was unusually hot for some reason, and exposing a lot of skin would help. But she hesitated, then moved her hand to select the long, drab gray dress. It would be cool in the Director’s office and she wasn’t going there to impress him with her body or to seduce him. As she thought about that for another second she wondered if it would even be possible for her to impress him with her body. Despite being slightly over thirty years old she was still on the slender side of the body-type that typified her countrymen’s preferred choice for a female companion.
Her thin waist and largish breasts would dazzle men in America, but not here at home. She put her heavy, low-heeled, utilitarian shoes on her feet, wishing that they were instead, the pair of outrageously high, five inch heeled, almost flimsy-looking shoes she had been eyeing covetously just a few minutes ago. She knew what wearing them would do to her legs and momentarily fantasized about having the nerve to actually wear them.
In conducting her research of western women’s wear, she had taken the opportunity to compare how various models looked while they wore different styles of clothing. And that included their footwear. She had noted the improvement in the same model’s legs as she wore higher heeled shoes. It held true for all the models that she had been able to compare. She concluded that having more than one pair of high-heeled shoes would be a necessity is she ever built up her nerve to actually assemble a western style wardrobe.
That thought led to her not only coveting such shoes, but coupling them with more of the symbols of the rotting, immoral, decadent western culture in the form of skirts with hemlines well above the knee. She slipped the mid-calf length dress over her head and went out to face what she thought of as the beastly hot weather.
On her arrival at the Director’s office she was told to sit and wait. That was standard; nobody except Comrade Khrushchev and maybe some of his favored cronies would be shown in without waiting. But even that wasn’t particularly true. Comrade. Khrushchev wouldn’t visit the Director; the Director would be summoned to him. Regardless, she settled in her hard seat, preparing herself to wait for no less than half an hour and probably for more like an hour. For someone of her rank, that would be the expected time. She was, after all, only a Major in the First Chief Directorate of the KGB.
After waiting only about five minutes the Director’s private secretary, Ursula, appeared in the waiting area and motioned for her to come inside. Tatiana’s stomach fluttered, but she held her nervousness to that level, she didn’t allow a speck of her concern to appear on her flawless skin and ruffle the placid appearance of her almost model-pretty face. She walked steadily with a sure step into the inner sanctum despite her trepidation about what awaited her. To be called in after only five minutes meant something serious was afoot. Something very serious, indeed.
Ursula ushered her to the door of his office, opened it for her and gestured for her to enter. Tatiana noted that Ursula hadn’t bothered to knock before opening the door. This was becoming more serious by the second.
As she entered she found the Director standing in front of the huge floor-to-almost-ceiling window that dominated virtually the entire side of his expansive office. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the window, giving every appearance of being totally unaware of her presence. She walked soundlessly on the thick rug, ending her entry by standing in front of his desk. The desk dated back to the czar’s era and was rumored to have been used by no lesser a figure than Rasputin himself. She idly wondered if that was true, while at the same time she admired the intricate, detailed workmanship of the massive piece of furniture. Whatever one might think about the Mad Monk, this desk would have suited him. She envied the Director for having this piece of history in his office.
She no sooner stopped walking when, without turning or making any motion whatsoever, he softly told her to sit. After a few seconds he turned to face her. His face showed a mass of concern, which was underscored by the heavy sigh he emitted as he took his own seat behind his desk. He looked deeply into her eyes as though searching for something. The truth was that he was still wrestling with the decision he had no alternative but to accept. He had no other real choice and he knew it, but the gravity of what he was about to reveal to her unnerved him. She was only a Major. She had only a Top Secret security clearance. The information he was about to impart to her was classified four levels higher, and at that, the totality of what he was going to reveal was restricted to only a half dozen or so people of the hundred who held that level of security clearance. Many more individuals knew bits and pieces, but only that half dozen knew it all. He was about to make that number become seven. He was reluctant but he had no choice. But still, she was so young. So untested.
When the situation he was confronted with had become known, it caused an immediate launched a search of the personnel records to be undertaken, in a frantic hunt for an agent who could be dispatched in the hope of remedying the problem. With all the restrictions, qualifications, requirements and experience overlaid on the search criteria, along with the talent and training this assignment needed, the pool of available candidates was pitifully small. So small in fact, that if it were any smaller it would not have existed. The pool of suitable candidates numbered one. Only one. Her.
The search process had been rigorously and carefully, even though speedily, conducted. He looked at her again, finally seeing a person, instead of the impersonal facts on the paper that constituted her file. It was an impressive file however; there was no disputing that, and now seeing her in the flesh he was assailed by further doubts. She was so junior in rank. She was so young. So pretty. So sexy beneath that drab dress she had chosen to wear. He found her slender physique greatly preferable in a woman over the solid, heavy-set females that others preferred.
He regretted not having sent instructions for her to wear something more… feminine… before coming here. He could have specified that she wear something sexy, ostensibly to personally evaluate her suitability to meet the requirements of the seduction she was going to be required to conduct. He pushed his doubts and regrets aside. She had been chosen because she was so young, pretty and sexy. He didn’t need to raise his cock over her when being able to use her to satisfy that hormonal drive was out of the question. For now it was, anyway.
Her target was a young American male. A male who would ‘go apeshit’ over her, to use the popular American expression. She would have no trouble attracting him to her bed; there was no doubt about that. She had proven on more than one occasion that once in her bed she could manipulate men into revealing what she wanted them to reveal. She would do so again this time. Or else.
Unfortunately the ‘or else’ for failure would not fall on her so much as it would fall on Mother Russia and god only knew what other enemies of America they might chose to inflict it on. But that was the essence of her mission. Get back what had been stolen, or at least get a sample of what further development they had managed to achieve. Having the same weapon was almost as good as them not having it at all. Now they had to learn both what the Americans had done with the stolen sample, and what the American’s own research had developed. She had a tough assignment with fallout from it that could change the world.
The Director chided himself. Stop second-guessing the decision. The only way this can be made right is to give her the data and let her get to work. She has to know. He settled himself in his chair and began the hardest briefing he had ever given to an agent.
“I will caution you about secrecy by saying this. There are a few hundred trusted, loyal citizens who know something about what I’m about to tell you. But each one of them knows only a fraction of the whole picture. Some have a more complete picture than the others but they still only know a fraction. There are six people in the world who know the entire picture. You are about to become number seven.”
Those words were almost a physical shock to her. She managed to stonily stare straight ahead while her mind whirled.
“Research and development of chemical weapons has gone on since the First World War. Research into biological weapons is somewhat more recent endeavor but considerably more advanced despite that. We have an extensive bio-weapon program, as do the Americans. The Chinese are working on the subject also but their efforts are primitive in comparison to ours. We’re not exactly sure how advanced the American program is, and that is one of the problems you’re going to help us solve.”
Her attention was already high, but with those words it skyrocketed. I‘m going to America? Incredible! This is fantastic! It’s a huge feather in my cap at my age and rank. Only six others? My god, what is this?
“One of our scientists stumbled onto something. It’s a virus that has an odd effect. It makes people more passive… more tractable… almost submissive in some cases. Further, it reduces sex drive. It occurred to our war planners that if this virus was introduced into an enemy nation such as the United States, that in a generation or two they would suffer from a declining population replacement rate and they would be producing pacifists not warriors. They would become an easy conquest. The problem though, would be to introduce it into the population widely enough that it infected a large enough percentage to have immediate effect, and at the same time do so undetected.”
“They don’t understand the mechanism by which the virus causes the effects and a number of our researchers are trying to unravel that. Simultaneously, another group has been working on developing a variant of the nineteen eighteen flu virus. They succeeded in creating a flu virus that is extremely virile, produces very mild cold symptoms, has a two-week incubation period, is airborne, and the host is contagious during the incubation period before symptoms manifest. Outside of a human host it will go dormant and remain so for months, or longer. We don’t know how long it will remain viable in the dormant state, he haven’t had it any longer than that to test it. It’s a perfect delivery mechanism. In short, the host will spread a supremely contagious flu virus for two weeks before knowing he has a cold.”
“Then we succeeded in inserting the first virus into the flu virus, although changes in the first virus were noted when it was combined with the flu virus. Its not a reliable weapon yet, but its close. Before we can consider deploying it we need to understand and control the reproduction-altering aspects and the aggression-dampening to the point that we can tailor it to do what we need.”
He paused at this point to call his secretary on the intercom. He ordered her to prepare a tea service for two and bring it in immediately. He decided that while they waited for the tea to arrive he would move on to a somewhat less sensitive aspect of the briefing. That was just as well, because he didn’t realize just how large an impact the enormity of what he was saying was having on her. She could use the time to mentally regroup.
“Your objective is an American male in his late twenties. He is in excellent physical condition and apparently inordinately well endowed. You should find that aspect of your assignment quite enjoyable. He was a sport player in the college he attended. He played what they refer to as football. It’s quite a violent game and while he is quite large and strong, while playing, he was struck in a way that caused a significant brain injury. The effect of that injury has been to reduce his mental capacity quite noticeably. He’s functional and capable of self-support, but has been reduced to an almost childlike level in some respects. That might not make him a wonder conversationalist, but it should make him very susceptible to your charms and therefore quite easy to lead.”
At this point the secretary wheeled in a tea service and prepared to serve it. The Director stopped her, telling her that he would handle the serving and thanked her for her quick response. She had clearly and unequivocally been dismissed. Ursula put down the pot she had been holding, bowed fractionally to the Director, turned to smile at Tatiana, then left. Tatiana had seen the smile and wondered if that had been a hint of some kind. Or a warning? Tatiana had met the Director previously, of course, but never alone with him in his office. She had no idea about how she was supposed to act. What was expected of her? Given the clearly evident stratospheric level of secrecy involved, meeting here, alone, only made sense. But that still gave her no clue as to what the protocol or decorum should be. Acting on impulse, she took the lead and addressed the Director.
“Your secretary left the tea service cart right next to me, within easy reach. Would it be more convenient if I served?”
The Director smiled gratefully, now relieved of the little hospitality chore. It also gave him leave to continue his briefing without having to think about what he was doing with the tea. He accepted her offer by saying, “Milk and two lumps, please.”
“As I was saying,” he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling while he remembered where he had left off and regained his momentum. “Your target happens to be the son of the commanding general in charge of a secret bio weapon facility located in the American west. A place called Dugway, in Utah. As the commanding general he was able to get a waiver for the usual security clearance requirement for someone to work there. His son is capable of performing menial labor and that’s what he’s doing there. He’s the roving janitor. He has access to every lab, every office and comes and goes pretty much as he wishes within the facility. Apparently he does a good enough job that he’s managed to supplant two other workers. He doesn’t have a security clearance as such, but that might actually work to your advantage. I won’t go into those details; you’ll receive an in-depth briefing about him, including his likes and dislikes, as much as we’ve been able to discern them. That briefing will be done by our usual agency psychologists, some of whom you’ve undoubtedly already been briefed by on other occasions. They know nothing about any of this, by the way.”
He paused to mentally review his notes to decide what remained to be told. Tatiana took that break in his narrative to ask if he wanted a refill. He gratefully handed her his now empty cup and she dutifully refilled it. When he took it back he resumed speaking.
“Our lab doing the research was penetrated. Some samples were stolen. As I said, what was stolen isn’t a complete weapon yet, but it’s far enough along that it would give anyone… even the Chinese… a viable starting point that it could be made into a deployable weapon in a matter of months. Maybe weeks. Finding out who did that is not your concern, we have others better suited to that task working on it. All I will say about that is that we know precious little at this point. What might be meaningful to you is this. We suspect the Americans, naturally, but specifically we believe the theft was accomplished by an American of Chinese decent. We’re exploring the possibility that he might have been an actual Chinese agent; there are signs that that might be the case, but again, that isn’t of specific concern to you. What matters to you is that if once you’re in place, if you meet a Chinese man who takes an interest in you, he may be an American spy. We think it’s unlikely that the Chinese have actually gotten one of their agents into that area, it’s too sensitive. But still, be careful.”
With that warning said, the Director put his cup down, rose from his seat and waved Tatiana back into her seat when, thinking the meeting was over, she had started to rise also. It wasn’t. He returned to standing in front of the window, staring out at Moscow, and remained silent for quite a while. Then he turned back to her to continue speaking.
“We have a deep cover agent in America. Near their Dugway facility to be precise. He’s befriended your target but has been unable to get him to act in our interests. Our agent knows only that some samples were stolen from us and that they may now be in the American labs. He doesn’t know what was stolen is capable of doing. He knows that time is critical and it was he who suggested that we send a young, pretty agent. You’re going over as his niece. Your husband was killed in an accident six months ago. You’re thinking of relocating to America, and living with your uncle for a year or so is a good way to learn about the country and to make your decision. He’ll introduce you to your target. He’s already paved the way by saying that you are over your loss and that you’re now looking for a man in your life. An American man if one would have you. Since you’re Russian, you fear that no American man will have anything to do with you that might result in a serious relationship. You’re not looking to fuck, you’re looking to marry and have kids. The remainder of your cover story and how you structure your relationship with the target will be for you to decide.”
He paused, thinking, wondering if he had overlooked anything. He decided he had given her as complete a background as he was able. That left only the final operating instructions.
“You will report to nobody but me. Your uncle has been told to give you every and any assistance you ask for. He will use his network to do that; we don’t have time to set up an independent network for you. Basically you’re going in with no control and a free hand. Get as much information about the American program as you can. Get samples at any cost. Any questions?”
She nodded. “Yes. Just one. How is it that my uncle knows that the target is ‘well endowed’?”
The Director laughed, honestly amused. “Yes, I suppose I should have thought of that. You would be concerned about that point.” He chuckled again, then answered her. “You need not worry about that, you won’t be facing that problem. The target is fully heterosexual. As I said, he’s a young, healthy male. He likes to engage in sports and exercise. Your uncle is a member of the same gym as your target. Men’s locker rooms and showers are not as private as are women’s facilities here.” He smiled indulgently.
She nodded, pleased with that answer. Then she asked, “When do I leave?”
“We have briefings scheduled for you this afternoon. You will be outfitted with a suitable wardrobe before the briefings begin so any needed alterations can be made while the briefings are under way. You will leave in the morning.”
The briefings and fittings went without a hitch. She left the following morning with a complete dossier on her target, a very extensive and detailed picture of what she was heading into, and a small but adequate wardrobe to get her started. She also had enough money to act like an heiress. The Director had decided that the less she had to depend on her uncle, the better. The money made her much more independent.
Tatiana stared out the window of the bus heading toward her meeting with her ‘uncle’ and her target. She was bored. The scenery was boring; her fellow passengers were boring… not that any would talk to her. She sat alone in the middle of the bus, shunned. Not that she was bothered by that.
She was shunned because of the incident that occurred in the bus depot in Salt Lake City. She was young, pretty, and traveling alone with no ring on her finger. She was prime pick-up material. Three men tried their luck with her in the terminal. The first two took the rejection well and moved on when she made it clear that she had no interest in them. The third was not so easily put off and became more than annoyingly persistent. Despite three loud and blatant demands that he leave her alone, he made the mistake of draping his arm over her shoulders and pulling her into close personal contact with him. She responded by making the contact even closer and more personal. She brought her knee up, very forcefully and very painfully, into his groin. He collapsed into kneeling on the grimy floor, clutching his wounded jewels and his shattered pride. She walked away, leaving him gasping and moaning.
When the passengers got on the bus he was not among them, and when she took her seat in the mostly empty bus, others moved away. Now she sat alone with her thoughts, headed west on Route 80 toward a tiny town called Tooele. That was where her uncle and her target lived.
She would get off the bus a long way from Tooele however. The bus wouldn’t go there for only one passenger, it was too far out of the way off Route 80. She had been warned about that and had arranged with her uncle to meet her at the drop-off point along Route 80. As bad as that seemed, it actually worked out quite well for them. That gave her uncle… Usleff… an excuse to ask Tony, the target, to accompany him and keep him company while they waited for the bus. Tony thought that was a great idea. Useleff had talked about Tatiana on a number of occasions and had easily built up Tony’s interest in meeting her. He had described her as being very pretty and in her middle or late twenties. He sort of apologized, saying that he wasn’t all that sure about what her age actually was, but that didn’t bother Tony at all. He had described her as being young and very pretty and that was enough for Tony. She could easily pass for being in her middle twenties and her slight, almost diminutive frame made her look even younger.
While climbing down the steps of the bus when she got off she managed to expose a little more leg than was absolutely necessary, and that, along with her long hair and other features, had the planned effect; Tony went apeshit over her.
They all crammed into the front seat of Useleff’s car, Tatiana in the middle, and the close physical contact offset the mild coolness she displayed toward Tony. That would change soon enough, but for the moment it would not serve for her to be too friendly or accessible. She knew how to manage men and Tony’s less than sparkling intelligence would make him much easier than most.
Tatiana’s late arrival on a Thursday night had been orchestrated to arrange a day between the first time they met and a Saturday afternoon picnic to show Tatyiana some of the sights and to welcome her to America. It served a better purpose by making Tony look forward to spending more time with her after a day of separation. She was more encouraging to him on Saturday.
Being totally alone in a strange country, it was natural for her to more or less cling to the only other person her age that she knew. The clinging progressed from metaphorical to physical. Tony didn’t realize the unlikely suddenness of that transition because he was totally infatuated with her and she was doling out her charms enough to keep him interested and panting, but not enough to really scare him away. He had Midwestern views about how a ‘good girl’ was supposed to act. But he also had raging hormones and Tatiana easily managed to keep them raging. She allowed him access to her breasts after two weeks of almost constant togetherness and she provided her first hand-job a week after that. It took two more weeks before her lips stroked his cock, but by that time he was hopelessly hooked and in love with her. He wanted to marry her.
Throughout their time together she would gently ask about his job without really pressing the point. He had been steeped with the need for secrecy and he tried to respect that, but her casual insistence on learning more about him wore down his reluctance to speak about himself. Her willingness to give him blowjobs was like heroin to him and when she began to withhold them because she thought he really didn’t care for her, he felt the pangs of withdrawal. He tried to convince her that he loved her, but she pouted and complained that he never really talked to her and she felt like he was leading her on. Nothing could have been further from the truth, but he didn’t know that she didn’t want to be convinced. So he tried harder.
It came to a head one night following a few days in which she had even withheld her breasts from him. No kissing and no touching had been hard for him to take because she was just so damn good at kissing and being touched. They were alone in their favorite little private nook under the stars when he tried to kiss her again. She relented. They kissed; he touched, and her hand went into his fly to extract his cock and stroke it softly. He would have been happy with a hand job, but when she kissed it he needed a blowjob. She toyed with him, then knowing she was running out of time and that she had to push him harder than she had been, she brought the final stages of her plan to make him talk into play.
With her tongue and lips barely brushing against his hardarm she somewhat petulantly asked, “Why won’t you tell me about yourself? About your job? I want to know about you… the man I might… uhhh…want to get to know better.”
He had hinted about marriage and she had deftly deflected the discussion each time before he could get to the question. Her hint made him think she was getting ready to accept. She pressed her questioning by kissing the head of his cock and repeating her question. “Well? Why are you keeping me away from you? Why won’t you let me know you?”
He wanted his cock to be thrust deeply into her mouth and he wasn’t about to shut her off and destroy the possibility of that happening. He reluctantly answered, “I’m not supposed to talk about it. I’ve been told to not talk about anything at work.”
She sat up, exhibiting intense interest, but still grasping his cock with her fist and keeping him very aware of the pleasure she could bestow. “Oooo,” she intoned with an adoring, almost fawning look, “you must work at that secret place somewhere around her. I’m impressed, no wonder you didn’t want to tell me. But I’m so glad you just did, it shows that you really do like me. You trust me with that secret.” She bent forward to kiss and nibble his cock. “You do like me, don’t you?”
He moaned, then began to blurt out, “I really do. Enough that I want to ask…”
Before he could ‘pop the question’, she interrupted him. “You must be very important if you’re not allowed to say anything about your work. Do you have a security clearance?” She knew damn well that he didn’t.
His bible-belt upbringing wouldn’t permit him to lie to her. He couldn’t lie to the woman he was planning to ask to marry him. “No, I don’t. They say I don’t really need one.”
She sat up again, her delight being radiated by her huge smile and the obvious joy in her voice. “That’s wonderful! That’s perfect. You should have told me that sooner.”
That confused him because he felt that he was not as good as everyone else if he was denied a security clearance. Now she thought that was wonderful news and he knew she was a whole lot smarter than he was. Why was not having one so wonderful? He asked her exactly that question. She smiled and answered coquettishly as she sat up again.
“Now you’re teasing me. You want to see if I really understand. Well, you big silly,’ she huffed with her chest pushed out, “I do, so there!” She paused; scaring him into thinking she wasn’t going to give him, the answer. Then she did.
“You don’t have a security clearance. That means they don’t tell you secrets, right?”
“Uhhh, yeah, that’s right.”
“If they don’t tell you secrets, then you don’t know any secrets, so then you can’t tell me what you don’t know, right?”
“Uh huh, I guess so.”
“Then that means you can tell me all about yourself and all about your job. You can tell me every little detail and not have told me even one teeny-tiny little secret. I’m so excited, I want to hear all about what you do.”
She descended once again, this time to put him back in her mouth. She stroked him with her lips a few times, then stopped and sat back up. He looked at her, wondering what he had done to make her stop. She looked down at him then slowly began to unbutton her blouse. When her breasts were free she brought his hand up to fondle a breast while she began to unbutton his shirt. He reached behind her neck to pull her to him, but she resisted.
“No,” she objected, “this is a special night because you’re going to tell me all about yourself and what you do. I finally get to know the man I’m going to… uhhh.. get to know.” She feigned embarrassment and confusion, but that was ok. A girl simply did not ask a man to marry her. She was supposed to wait until he asked her and that’s just the way things were done. Of course she was embarrassed he realized, she almost said they were going to be married before he asked her. Then she leaned down to kiss him on his lips, but gently and too briefly.
“Since this is already a special night, let’s make it truly special.” She looked down at him with smoldering passion and longing written all over her beautiful face. She huskily said, “I want you naked.” With that she tore at his belt and struggled to remove every stitch of his clothing. He tried to return the favor, but she batted his hands away and murmured, “Help me get you undressed.”
When he lay there naked, she straddled him on her knees. Her blouse hung open exposing her large breasts, and other than that and having kicked off her shoes, she was still dressed. She leaned down again to brush her nipples against his bare chest; she kissed him, then sat back up. She shrugged her blouse off and her hands went to her skirt to unbutton it. She rose upright on her knees to slide the skirt down. She slid it off one leg, then the other. Now wearing only panties, she stopped undressing, placed her palm on his balls and kissed his cock again. She rose to begin the process of shedding her panties. Before completing their removal she paused, looked down into his face and asked, “Do you want me? Are we going to make this a special night?”
He understood what she was demanding. He also understood that she was going to give herself to him and ultimately marry him. All he would have to do would be to tell her about himself. That seemed completely fair. There was no reason to not trust his wife and tell her anything she wanted to know. And he so very much wanted her.
He wasn’t a virgin, but neither was he a lothario. He was still a little awed by her; her intelligence and her beauty. He couldn’t believe his luck in landing her. Still somewhat unsure of himself and the situation he managed to ask if he needed to be gentle with her. She almost laughed out loud at that but sublimated the urge into a more acceptable look of mild reproof and said, “I was married, remember?”
He grinned sheepishly, reached forward to grab her waist with both hands and bodily lifted her to lower her onto his huge erection.
He was well endowed and for the first time in their relationship she truly enjoyed being with him. Beyond just his physical size, he knew how to please a woman and he did it with skill and finesse. She began the episode thinking it would be a quick tumble and that he would cum after a few minutes and that would be that. Instead, she found herself screaming through one orgasm after another while he remained rigid. At times he pounded her incessantly, while at other times he made slow, gentle love to her, almost teasing her into another orgasm. When it was finally over for both of them they lay in each other’s arms, both physically spent.
When she recovered somewhat and was still enjoying the post-coital bliss she nibbled on his neck and kissed the corner of his mouth for the simple enjoyment of doing so. That roused him a little. Her hand confirmed that he wasn’t ready for another session, although she thought she felt the stirrings of one, so in the meantime they talked softly.
“So tell me,” she asked, while using his chest as a pillow, “what exactly do they do in that super-secret place that you work?”
Tony didn’t want to admit it, but he wasn’t all that sure himself. He chose what he thought would be a safe answer. “They play with bugs. They’re trying to make new ones.”
She wiggled as though in mild revulsion. “Eewww, that’s icky. They breed cockroaches? Whatever for? My apartment had enough of them, I could have given them enough to last for years.”
He laughed. “No not that kind of bug. Tiny bugs. Invisible bugs.”
She bolted upright, looked at him as though in anger and lightly punched his stomach. “Now you’re teasing me again. Invisible bugs… I was being serious.”
He reached up to her, wrapped his arms around and easily overcame her faked resistance to being drawn back down. He pulled her against him, crushing her breasts against his chest, then kissed her. She yielded, melting into his embrace and kissing him back as though she couldn’t resist his charms.
“I am being serious,” he protested. “They work on bugs so small you can’t see them.”
He had overheard the doctors and technicians referring to the samples as bugs and had never given it any deeper thought. He never equated ‘bugs’ to ‘germs’ and couldn’t have explained what a virus was unless he had a dictionary in his hands. Even then, maybe not. She wasn’t exactly sure how much he understood or didn’t understand, but she knew that now was the time to raise the ante. She drew back from him, then moved away slightly, moving her body just slightly out of his easy reach. She tilted her head backwards and shook out her long hair. Her posture thrust her breasts out and up, showing him what he was about to be denied forever.
“I wanted tonight to be a special night between us,” she pouted with a hint of anger in her voice. “If all you’re going to do is to make fun of me, act like you don’t really care about me and treat me like… like…“ She pretended to struggle for the right words, then she hit upon them, “like some cheap bimbo that you just use for sex, then you aren’t the man I thought you were. I don’t want to see you any more.” She turned away from him.
He was devastated, thinking that the love of his life was going to disappear and his dreams of being married to her would never happen, he panicked. In a desperate attempt to recapture her affection he pleaded. “I’m telling you the truth, I swear I am.
She stared at him. “I just don’t believe you.” She put her blouse back on her shoulders.
“How can I prove it?” The longing in his eyes told her he was ready to do what she needed.
She stared at him for a long time while neither of them moved or spoke. When she thought the tension was as high as she was going to get it, she said in a hard voice, “I want to see it.”
He almost cried. “I can’t get you in there, they won’t let me take you in with me.”
She shrugged, almost totally unconcerned. Then she appeared to brighten. “Then bring some out.”
“I can’t do that, the things are secret. They would be really mad if I did that.”
If he had said that he couldn’t do it, that there was no way he could get a sample, she might have tried something else. But with his objection being that they would be really mad if he did do it, that told her that he knew he could do it, he was just afraid to. She inched a little closer to him and leaned still closer. She put her hand on his thigh as though to support her weight, but it was really there to remind him that she could move her hand just a few inches and things would be good again. She spoke softly, almost pleading.
“I want to believe you, I really do. I was beginning to really, really like you. I hoped that you liked me too and that we might have something together. If you really liked me… if you loved me, you would bring a few bugs out for me to see so that I would know that you weren’t making fun of me.”
She saw the objection forming as his face grew pinched. Before he could say anything she pushed further. “If they’re really that small, how would they know if you took a few? And what could I do with them anyway? It would just be enough for me to know that my feelings for you are… are… that you feel the same toward me. I have to know that Tony, I can’t continue making love to you if you don’t really care for me.” She put her hand on his cock and it instantly hardened. Using her other hand she reached up to begin shedding her blouse again. She shrugged it off and tossed it aside. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. “I have to know that you care for me Tony. I have to know.”
He kneaded her soft breast thinking; A few would never be missed. I could do it easily and they would never know. And she’s right, what can she do with them? It won’t hurt anything and it’ll prove it to her. Then things will be right and she’ll agree to marry me. His resistance collapsed. “Ok, I’ll do it. Tomorrow or the next day. I don’t know when I can get the chance, but I’ll do it.”
She pushed his chest with her hand, urging him to lie on his back. When he was stretched out she brought her head to his crotch and began to blow him. After a few strokes she picked her head up to say, “I love doing this to you. I’m so pleased that you’re going to get some bugs for me to look at. Now I’ll be able to do this to you a lot. Every day, at least.” She went back to pleasing him.
That night when she got home she and Useleff made plans. They decided that when Tony delivered the sample, if it was large enough to do so, they would split it in two and each would take half. They would drive to Salt Lake City immediately, abandoning everything in Tooele. They would not be back. All they would take would be their travel luggage. He would fly west and she would go east. Neither would know more about the other’s plans than that. Hopefully they would meet again in Moscow. She gave him a few thousand dollars from her supply so that he wouldn’t have to use a credit card, or somehow be caught without means to continue his flight. She still had more than enough even after giving him that small amount.
In preparation for their flight, it was decided that Useleff would keep the container that Tony used and that Tatiana would use one of her perfume bottles to carry her portion of the sample. She was a woman; carrying perfume bottles was a natural, expected thing for a woman to do. She emptied the bottle, put it in a pan of water on the stove and boiled it for twenty minutes.
Ever since the Manhattan Project, America was riddled with Russian spies. The Chinese were relatively new to the game of really serious international espionage on a large scale, but they were beginning. When Tatiana showed up at the Pan American ticket counter in Salt Lake City and bought a ticket to New York’s Idewild Airport, the ticket agent made a phone call. Weeks earlier she had been approached by a man posing as an FBI agent saying that a suspected Russian spy might be traveling. He showed her a picture of Tatiana. They wanted to track her, not arrest her. All they wanted was for the ticket agent to alert them to when and where she was going, if the woman showed up and bought a ticket.
That phone call led to another call being made to the Chinese embassy. That was all that was necessary. More plans were set into motion.
Two days later Tony brought her a small vial. He thought she would look at it then give it back. Instead she put it in her purse explaining that she wanted to take it home and look at it with a magnifying glass. He started to say something, but by then she was on her knees unzipping his fly. When he went to see her the day after that he found that both she and Useleff were gone. He never saw either one of them again.
When she got home after blowing Tony, she and Useleff donned the cheap paper breathing masks he had purchased in the local hardware store. Tatiana had warned him that the virus they were going to pour into her perfume bottle might be able to spread in the air. She was right, it could. It did. The cheap masks were not enough to filter out something that small. They were designed for dust particles, hundreds of times larger than a virus.
Salt Lake City airport wasn’t particularly crowded that night; only three more people were infected. However the same could not be said for the planes they each took. By the time Useleff landed in San Francisco, fifty-seven passengers were infected, as were all of the stewardesses. Tatiana managed to infect her crew of stewardesses and passed the bug to another twenty-eight. She hadn’t gotten as many because she had flown first class; there were fewer people in that section.
When Tatiana landed in New York, three people observed her getting off the plane: two women and a man. When she went into the ladies room in the terminal, both women followed. Fortune smiled on the two. It was late at night and that ladies room was empty. One of the two pulled a small hypodermic needle out of her purse and maneuvered to stand behind Tatiana. The other woman lunged toward her and trapped her arms at her sides. The first woman stabbed Tatiana in the back of her neck with the needle and depressed the plunger. It shot a very fast-acting but very short-lived knockout serum into her. She tried to turn to face her attacker, outraged that she had been accosted. She collapsed before she could mount any kind of defense.
The two women dragged the unconscious Tatiana into a stall and propped her up on the toilet, then they quickly rummaging through her effects. When one of them found the make-up case with its vials and bottles she looked at the other and smiled. She knew. She was sure. She was stupid. She should have taken the entire case and everything else that could have contained a small sample of liquid; then taken it unopened back to China where it could have been opened in a lab designed to contain such dangerous materials. Instead she began to open each bottle and sniff the contents. The perfumes were instantly obvious for what they were. When she sniffed a bottle with no sweet scent, she nodded to the other and replaced the stopper. She had taken only one sniff. It was enough.
The three Chinese agents huddled close together outside the women’s room to confirm that the vial had been obtained, and to wish each other well in their dispersal. They huddled together briefly but closely. It was enough.
They had also thought that in the event they were being followed, their close huddle would camouflage their movements and thus whoever was watching would not know for sure which of the three carried the prize. They bet that the opposition would assume that the man was carrying it. When they dispersed they thought that by doing that they would stand a better chance of the one that mattered getting away.
One of the women flew to Montreal and from there to London. The man flew to Brussels, then on to Bombay as he made his way back to China. The woman with the vial flew to Rio De Janeiro. Carnival was in session. They thought she could get lost in the crowds if she was being followed. She did get lost in the crowds. She also got mugged. The muggers grabbed her purse and disappeared into the night. They found the perfume bottle and smashed it on the ground in frustration when nothing of real value was found. One mugger had sniffed the bottle thinking he would give it to his girlfriend if he liked the scent. He was pissed off that it didn’t have any scent whatsoever. He disappeared into the throngs of revelers. So did his buddies. Shattering it on the ground had been more than enough.
The other two Chinese agents each passed the virus on to hundreds of travelers in the first few hours of their route back to China. The agent in Rio managed to cause it to be passed to thousands, most of who would scatter to all corners of the globe in a matter of days.
Pandora’s Box had been opened. There would never be any possibility of closing it again.
What had been stolen, first from the Russians, then from the Americans, was, in each case, a work in progress. The Russians knew what they were trying to achieve and had made good progress toward it. The Americans were trying to figure out what the design goal had been, and in that process they were subjecting the virus to a wide variety of treatments, including bombarding it with x-rays and gamma rays. Those rays can and do change the genetic structure of the virus they hit. They did in this case. The changes they wrought were significant. Those happened to be the easiest to get at and those were the ones that Tony grabbed a sample of. They changed the world.
The stolen American virus no longer was capable of reducing the birth rate. Now it merely changed the birth ratio from fifty-fifty male and female to seventy percent female births. It didn’t make those born under its influence more submissive, it only made females more submissive. Males were born more dominant and aggressive.
Prior to the virus, when a male ejaculated, the ejaculate contained many things in addition to sperm. One of the other chemicals it contained was an inhibitor that prevented a continued erection. It made males impotent for anywhere from ten minutes to forty-five minutes, on average. The virus not only reduced the production of the inhibitor, it increased the production of sperm and concomitantly raised the male libido to unheard of levels. The inhibitor was still produced, but now it took four or five orgasms in a fairly short period of time for enough of the inhibitor to accumulate to have its previous effect, although even then it was of much shorter duration. Men were now continually horny and were capable of repeated sessions of sex with little or no break between them.
It took a few years before the change in the birth ratio was noticed on a worldwide basis. Initially it was considered as no more than an intriguing anomaly that would right itself. The anomaly in the birth ratio continued unabated, and by the time the first wave of ‘modified’ children reached maturity and assumed positions of influence and power, particularly political power, nobody thought it strange that women were now largely passive in the public scene. The aggressiveness of males saw a return of sexual harassment of females in the workplace and nobody seemed to care. Including the women being harassed.
As that first generation of aggressive males aged and solidified their power, society at large, particularly in America, was finding it increasingly acceptable to use women as sex toys and arm candy. Most women willingly participated in the shifting role they played because they found it preferable to please the men around them than to alienate them. As a natural follow-on to their new role in society, women gave greater and greater emphasis to their looks,, including their weight. The suicide rate increased markedly among teenage women who found they could not compete against their peers in the looks department. That further culled the gene pool resulting in only the better-looking women successfully finding a mate and being able to reproduce. By the time the second generation of women was maturing, the vast majority of women qualified as either very pretty or beautiful. That cycle continued to feed upon itself.
In a late night bull session in 1998, during which some above-average looking interns were on their knees or on their backs for the senators they were servicing, one of the senators casually remarked half jokingly to the woman he was fucking that he would like to make her his slave and keep her available to him wherever he went. She was arguably the best-looking woman in the senate intern program and gave the best blowjobs because she had been given a lot of opportunity to practice.
She hugged him and cooed, “I would love that. Would you keep me naked in chains and gag me too?”
Thinking she was only playing along he answered “Of course!”
She kissed him and sighed, “If only you could.” He believed her. Then she shifted under him and said, “You’re a senator, you write laws. Write a law allowing me to become your slave.”
When the men broke for a short rest, the senator in question called out loudly. “Girls, listen up!” He had their attention.
“Monica here says she would like to be my slave and be kept naked in chains wherever I go. How many of you would like that also?”
All but two hands almost instantly shot up, and the owners of those two hands raised theirs hesitantly when they realized they would be the outcasts if they didn’t. The senator who asked the question looked at his fellow debauchers and said he would talk to some additional colleagues and the President in the morning. That started the ball rolling.
Their first cut at the legislation was considerably watered down from what eventually passed. The first draft merely allowed a woman to waive her rights against cruel and unusual punishment and to voluntarily enter into a status of true slavery with no rights, including not having the right to undo her decision. It also provided protection to the man who owned her, saying that he could not be charged with any form of cruelty or abuse, even if he caused her to suffer significant injury. When the idea began to circulate openly it was widely criticized as being too weak. The benefits and cost savings of using involuntary slavery as a punishment instead of years of incarceration at taxpayer expense were strongly touted and the idea of female slavery gained widespread public support. Widespread support was essential because women still had the right to vote and by now they were the overwhelming majority of the voting population.
A new, far tougher version of the legislation was drafted and found easy passage.
Female slavery was the law of the land in the United States of America at 12:00AM on the morning of January first, two thousand. By 11:59 PM on January first, two million, three hundred thousand, five hundred and fifty six women were legally slaves. More were being converted to slavery every minute.