Dommy mommys

I stepped back from the corkboard, filled with papers with quick notes, divided into three sections, two of them containing my fetishes that I could include in the game coherently if I justified them well, and a third for rejected ideas, which had little to no chance of being included.

To start:

Tall, muscular women. Any man who prefers a short, thin woman is way off his rocker, in my humble opinion. I had to be able to explain the reduced sexual differentiation between men and women, which I could achieve through sexual dimorphism, and a digestive system similar to that of chimpanzees.

Giving in to temptation, I lay down on my bed, pulled down my pants, and began masturbating, imagining that perfect body. A tall, red-haired beauty with a six-pack, smooth but taut skin that emanated the heat of exercise.

Then, a greater number of women than men, minimum three, maximum five. A bit cliché, but I don't know any man or woman who wouldn't want more than one partner. It wouldn't be too difficult to achieve. While many species have a balanced population, several others show a huge imbalance, so it was possible. This was called sex ratio bias.

To that perfect body, four others were added, all equally defined, some wearing high heels, but all naked, beginning to touch each other, caressing those beautiful bare breasts, with hard, sensitive nipples. Each one shuddering from the caresses of long, well-manicured nails.

Thirdly, I wanted to maximize women's libido—again, very archetypal, but we're talking about a magical, reality-altering brochure. I think I can afford to be cliché. I wanted to enjoy my new world (oops, I did it again), and the best way to do that is to make everyone want to have sex. I didn't include the male population, mostly because I wanted to avoid altering my mind as much as possible.

The quintet of women began to moan, each time louder and louder. Their caresses turned into rough squeezes. They pressed their bodies together to feel their warmth, their shape, the combined warmth of each other, warming the place where they stood.

Fourth, increase life expectancy, preferably unlimited. A perfect world would be useless if I died; I wanted to enjoy my paradise forever. All in all, this is easy to explain; I just had to make the human body synthesize active telomerase, which repairs DNA and prevents aging. For a few days, I wondered if I should make this affect only the male population, leaving the female population to age, but I wasn't heartless or psychopathic enough to do it.

As for culture, or behavior. I wanted assertive women, who would make the first move, who knew what they wanted, and went after it. Partly, I admit, it was so I wouldn't have to put in as much effort into finding a partner. Of course, I'd still have to do my part. But—and I apologize if I sound a little incel about this—women had the advantage that men were expected to initiate everything. ENOUGH WITH THE ANT-SIZED HINTS!

They all went from looking at each other to looking at me, seeing me as a piece of meat, a delicacy they wanted to eat, and they knew how to get it. That spectacle went from being private to focused on tempting me, on showing me the perfection of their bodies, tempting me to join them.

Now, I like assertive women, but not dominant ones. I know it sounds strange, but it's not a contradiction. That's what I would be if I wanted submissive dominatrixes. Just as the female body is practically worshipped all over the internet these days (and if we look at ancient statues, it's been done since the beginning of recorded history), I wanted a world where this was the other way around, with women on Twitter proclaiming how perfect men's bodies were. Yes, I knew women already appreciated men; I wasn't an idiot, they just weren't... effusive enough. And this is something I had a hard time admitting, and it took long sessions of being alone with my thoughts at night. I wanted to feel desired, for someone to look at me with not just love, but lust, and it wasn't wrong to want that, so I was going to build a world where that was the norm.

Something in women's eyes changed. While they still desired me, they were joined by an appreciation, a contemplation of the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. Their touches faltered, then resumed, no longer focused on pleasing each other, but on pleasing me, on proving that they deserved to have a partner like me.

Regarding the point about population differences, polygamy was mandatory… no, wait, that sounded wrong. I didn't want to establish a fascist state that forces people to have families. They tend to seek the largest population possible, and consequently, homosexuals aren't very welcome. I made a quick note so I wouldn't forget that.

A small detail was added to all of them: gold rings on her ring fingers, and on her bare skin appeared different variations of wedding lingerie, white lace fabric that hid nothing. Thigh-high stockings, so tight they showed off her muscles; a tight corset to accentuate her hourglass figure; fingerless lace opera gloves that outlined her muscular arms; and finally, an open veil that cascaded over her hair.

Finally, and this was the most important thing of all. I didn't want to work or study; in general, I didn't want to have any worries in my life. This, I admit, is extremely immature of me. In the real world, I wouldn't get any of this, but then again, I have a magic booklet.

This idea, besides coming from my boredom with work, was something I noticed while reading porn stories (whoever said you can't learn anything from them, ha!): whenever the protagonist can change the world, he turns women into mindless sex toys, not realizing that he's condemning himself to a life of work ten times worse, so he can have the money to support a group of women whose brains together don't even add up to a single neuron.

So yes, the women were going to do all the work, not just putting food on the table. If I could, I expected them to take care of everything else: bank accounts, cleaning the house, gardening, etc. Every area of ​​life, while I would reap the fruits of other people's labor... my god, I'm glad I didn't say that out loud. I was definitely an idiot. From my bedroom, I apologized to all the women of the world for condemning them to a life of work supporting idiots who would only take advantage of them, but I wanted a stress-free life.

So if, somehow, I had to make the entire female population of the world submissive sugar mommies (I think that term is submommy), I had to do it through early globalization, just like the Roman Empire, maybe thanks to some religion, I'll see how.

To the women, a stage was added, a hunting lodge room, all at the foot of the bed, slowly approaching, with subtle hip swaying, shoulders rolled back, to present their perfectly natural, round breasts to me.

Finally, there was the third group, the discarded ideas. They were arranged in such a way that those furthest to the left were the ones that had some chance of being included in the new reality, if I could find a way, and those furthest to the right were the ones I definitely couldn't fit into my new world (ENOUGH!)

In that order, they were: raunchy women's clothing, so that all women would be functionally naked; there is no such thing as women's underwear; women always aroused; perpetual lactation; perpetual vaginal dripping; addiction to the taste of semen; some mutation in women's brains that prevents them from hurting men; some mutation in women's brains that prevents them from disobeying men. Etc.

When the quintet of women were upon me, inches from my body, I could feel the heat of their arousal, the trembling of their eager bodies. Their breaths surrounded me, caressing me, and when they were about to place their lips on me...

"OH GOD!" I swear my scream could have reached China. It was the loudest I remember having. I could feel my soul leaving my body through my penis. My semen shot out, describing an arc, landing partly on my bed and partly on the floor.

After the post-orgasmic clarity, there wasn't a feeling of emptiness or disappointment, as almost every man hopes, but a determination. That vision of five beautiful women... I was determined to make it a reality.

But first, I had to clean my bed sheets.