Tom considers the newscast...

Tom watched the announcement again as it was repeated, the police officer in the channel twelve newsroom didn’t look very healthy… The large man’s face was slick with sweat and he was jittery to say the least.

Maybe it was the three days of caffeine **** or maybe it was an effect of the XXX-virus since the fool had openly admitted to fucking some of the infected, but the man had a wild look in his eyes and seemed to have trouble clearly framing his sentences.

Tom wasn’t buying it, but he knew men out there would.

The XXX-infected were manipulative and devious; every time the public supply of willing men with their hard dicks were running low, they did something to sow the seeds of false assurance amongst the remaining hold-out males.

In the beginning–once the unexplainable decline of males and the explosion in the number of these infected females had become apparent–a lot of men had locked themselves in their homes or gone into hiding. It was the most prudent and cautious move any man could make.

But those reactions had come too late. There had been no conclusive news reports or clear warnings so it had been up to each man individually to recognize there was a danger and to protect himself from it. By that time the federal government had fallen to shambles and ambitious XXX-infected seductresses had taken charge of several major television news networks.

Then the relentless campaign of advertisements had begun. Unbelievably attractive women, sometimes whole groups of them, had appeared on the air begging for male companionship, promising outlandish sexual delights and even offered payment to any man who would contact them.

That had brought the weaker willed men out of the woodwork and sated the hunger of the lustful masses for a while…

Then, once more men were needed again, a group of cunning Bimbos had formed a think-tank to come up with an ingenious new ploy for getting men into bed with them and their ilk. A range of hither unseen "preventatives" had appeared on store shelves in every city across the country.

The logistics of that scheme alone boggled Tom's mind and taught him not to trust the vapid smiles of the uber-busty sex fiends.

Promised cures and snake-oil immune boosters in every form and variety had appeared in shop windows everywhere. Many of the XXX-infected beauties had even taken to peddling them door to door, hoping to lure men into their overflowing bosoms and, inevitably, between their generously spread thighs.

A lot of men had fallen for that ploy, the pills were advertised on TV with a money-back guarantee, it had been very convincing and effective.

Especially since nobody would be asking for their money-back once the virus took hold of them. Tom couldn’t imagine the trouble a clever group of XXX-infected must have gone through to mass produce the stuff and get their questionable cures so widely distributed. It was insidious and he knew that it had lured far too many men out of safety.

But now the numbers of available and willing men were dwindling again, Tom dreaded to think of what might come next. What insidious, machiavellian plan the opitomous "they" might scheme up.

Frankly, menfolk were so outnumbered at this point that the gorgeous mobs of XXX-infected could probably do as they liked. Once it was apparent that more men were needed to quench the bottomless thirst of the sex-crazed crowds, some new ploy would be used, and this news broadcast looked like one such deception…

A man reaching out to other uninfected men with a proposed preventative and a police officer at that.

His words would carry weight for anyone out there watching, just Tom was. The Officer seemed more or less in control of himself–he certainly wasn’t behaving like some sex-crazy maniac like every other man Tom had seen in the arms of infected women–but the way Officer Bakers eyes seemed to lose focus occasionally, the way he twitched and sweated…

Tom thought about the large tin of coffee he had grabbed in his shopping expedition, then straightened with resolve.

“Fuck that!”

His strength of resolution was immediately crushed by fear and trepidation as he heard a clear insistent knocking on the front door.