The morning after

Dinner was uneventful. It was much like a normal dinner, only amidst the usual talk of work, school, hobbies etc., sexual encounters of the day were discussed, in particular, Mother’s. She was a little salty because she couldn’t get any of her underlings to orally pleasure her during the lunch hours. That was her favourite way to get off, apparently. Just recently she’d started experimenting with her pubic hair, as in she let it grow out a bit, just a patch above the lips. Sadly it wasn’t a popular move with men of her generation, and it gave her much chagrin to note Julie and girls her age’s ‘freedom’ to grow their bush as full as they liked. I certainly didn’t care; I hadn’t eaten pussy yet since the Great Change, but I had a nagging feeling I probably shouldn’t. If I was going to turn my nose at muff diving, it would rather be for fear of how my sanity might be affected, than for some retrograde sexual prejudice. What indication was there that the strange **** present in the bodies of the assimilated would only have potency in their mouths? None. Of that I grew continuously more aware as the evening went on.

After I had spoken of my lovemaking with Carmen – in as much lurid detail as I thought Mother wanted – it was time for desert. The spotlight fell on my dear sister Julie, and the conversation took a turn for the non-erotic, as she stated she didn’t get laid at school, and couldn’t be bothered to recount her only bout of fucking when there was only one person in the room who didn’t already know about it. She was referring to me fucking her, obviously. I think Mother was likely grateful for that. She had displayed every sign there is of intense jealousy toward Carmencita, and probably didn’t want to have her frustrations amplified any further. That Julie had taken me must have reassured her of my ultimate loyalty to the family.

So Julie vented some more about her rather lacklustre education in ancient literature. She spoke of it all the way to the end of dinner, as one party at the table was supremely interested. Mother was fascinated to hear of the tragedy of Œdipus and the myriad (frankly unnecessary) adaptations by various ancient European playwrights. It was tragic to behold, knowing the profound disappointment that awaited her, especially in the case of such an unutterable cinematic disaster as Œdipo Re, for instance. That “film” has stood up for hundreds of years against generation after generation of brave and enlightened young students, and to this day it is subject of some perverse reverence by nearly every literary ‘authority’ throughout the Triplanetary Alliance. Its blatant failings and misguided reliance on a doctrine long-ago booted out of the sciences are still taboo, yet to be conceded. When we were free to exit the kitchen, Julie and I both shared a saddened, knowing look at Mother’s unassuming enthusiasm.

I retired to my room, put on some pyjamas, crashed into bed and went straight to sleep. I really should have used my remaining time alone to come up with some sort of plan, but I was exhausted. Literally, I was drained; drained in the groin from all the fornicating, drained in the head from keeping the face of compliance during sexual and non-sexual situations, and drained in the body from the giant leaps between guarded fear and ecstatic highs. I should have tried to find out the scope of the change, see if it was limited to the City, if it reached the neighbouring towns, or if it was planet-wide. I should have tried to find some way of contacting others like myself, of which there had to be a few. I couldn’t be so important as to be entirely alone. I knew that if the others were **** to the agent in people’s bodies, their numbers would dwindle fast. I wasn’t immune. And I wasn’t even particularly good at not kissing my partners yet, a skill that would surely become vital to survive. It was pure luck I hadn’t gone down on any girl yet. How potent would pussy be? More? Less? Or the same?

The next day my alarm woke me a bit before 7 o’clock as usual. I didn’t feel the need to have it sound any earlier, as my normal morning habits already allowed me to rise as discreetly as I might want. I successfully got through breakfast alone and without incident, and made it all the way to the bathroom. Alas I was half-way through cleansing myself when the doorknob turned and someone tried to come in. Fortunately I had locked the door, and so the intruder was **** to name herself with her voice by calling to me from the other side.

“Frank, let me in. I know you’re nearly done in there. Besides, I need you...”

That she apparently “needed” me was enough warning of what was to come. I took a second to breathe in and out, put on my mask, and opened the door.