Science Is A Bitch

"And now, please welcome to the stage, the second generational genius behind Capsule Corp, Bulma Briefs!"

Applause erupted from the audience as the middle-aged female scientist walked up to the stage at the Central City Science Center, her sky-blue hair and small waist looking amazingly attractive for a woman of her age, the red scarf around her neck and a white croptop that exposed some of her cleavage only exaggerating her youthful appearence, her apple-bottom bouncing in her jeans as she walked to the man who had just introduced her.

She waved to the crowd as she shook the hands of the owner of the center, the older fat man palms starting to get sweaty in nervousness at meeting the beautiful leading scientist of the world.

The entire auditorium clapped and cheered for the woman, all except for one man; Dr. Miso, a renowned chemical biologist in his own right, who was sitting there, seething silently in rage and jealousy with his arms crossed. This is the 10th year in a row that Bulma had won the Scientist of the Year award, and his anger was boiling at constantly looking to that arrogant, uppity cunt of a female.

Miso had always hated women; as a biologist, he had to. He hated how weak they were, how disgusting and abnormal their physiology was, how their only real worth to the world was making babies and from that alone they were worshipped. But not Bulma; she was worshipped for her intelligence, her contributions to the scientific community, contributions that in reality her father, a genius man, was mostly responsible for. At least to Miso, that was the case.

The renowned female scientist in general was a fraud to him. She had stolen every idea she had ever come up with, and psychologically whipped the men in her life to think she was an actual threat. He'd heard of her husband and how he used to be a proud warrior prince; looking at him now, in the front row tightening the collar of his suit with the rest of her family, you'd be hard-pressed to guess he was ever a conquerer at all.

Bulma began speaking. "I'd like to thank you all for choosing me as the Scientist of the Year for a full decade!"

The crowd erupted in praise again, making Miso simmer more as he started to slump in his seat. Even hearing her voice made him just want to run up and smack her in the face.

"Without my wonderful friends and family to help me out with my research, I would have never been able to finish the cure for the Heart Virus that plagues millions of men on this planet!"

More applause came from the audience as Bulma explained the reason for why she had won once again. The Heart Virus, which had now been spreading like wildfire recently across the Earth, was found out to have only effected males. With this knowledge, the top scientists in the world rushed to find a cure that could stop the men of the planet from dying.

HE was going to be the one to save the men of the planet, to find the cure for the disease, coming up with a thesis that would produce an antitdote, but somehow, someway, that blue-haired bitch beat him to it. She must have found a way to steal his research and take it as her own. She published her thesis of the cure first, joking about the "biological inferiority" of men in her interviews and how we were the real weaker sex. It made him livid.

It should've been him up there accepting the award and the huge financial grant for continued research. It should've been him getting all the applause. But no, it was Bulma. Again.

He started to phase out the annoying fraud whore's voice and focus on her body, the plumpness and vigor of her physical form still on display. Miso believed that a large part of her popularity was looking hot, and he hated to admit it, but she was. It just made him angrier.

An image of Miso on the stage, accepting the award for the Scientist of the Year was conjured up in his head. Claps of the all male-audience roared on as he waved to his fellow colleagues in the field, all of whom were getting their dicks sucked by women in their seats.

Beneath the man of the hour himself, was Bulma, on his cock, her mouth making an O-shape as she shoved his length into her again and again. That's what a woman's mouth was good for. It's the only thing it was good for.

Miso had noticed in his daydream that he was rubbing himself, a hard-on starting to appear in his trousers. Some of the audience must have seen this and started to point and laugh at him, even Bulma noticing and snickering a bit in the middle of her speech. Embarassed, Miso stood out of his seat and ran out of the auditoriu, the laughs of his peers echoing behind him.

This was all her fault. Her and her looks made him lose control of his civilized sense of self-control. It was a power that all women seemed to have. He was going to make her pay. He was going to make all of those bitches pay.