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She drank it with a slobbering gratitude. We did it again before I went to work. May I help you? I wanted to take this month's girl with me, but now you've wrecked it.

Now you make sure she's here when I get back, you understand? The shipment hasn't arrived. I don't care what your records show.

Send it now. When the realtime clock in William Wood's computer dialed The Girl of the Month Club and repeated the message, it was three in the morning in New York.

Just at that moment in Times Square in front of the offices of The Girl of the Month Club, a mugger slipped up behind a pedestrian and pressed a gun into his back.

The pedestrian whirled and pulled an ion gun. The mugger fired two shots from his. The pedestrian pulled the trigger of his ion gun once, and then again.

One charge from the ion gun went through the office wall into the computer of The Girl of the Month Club and scrambled several memory banks during William M.

Wood's call. The mugger slumped to the ground without a mark on him: the ion gun's charge coagulated the flesh in a three-inch wide path through his body, like hard-boiling an egg.

The pedestrian plucked two slugs from his bulletproof vest, put his ion gun away, and walked on. There were cops all over the freeway where a freight van's mag field transducer had failed and left a foot crater and only one lane of traffic was trickling through, and I couldn't grab a ride and had to pedal all the way.

I was really tired -- I hadn't slept more than two hours. I looked for Skizz at work, I wanted to get some more panther thyroid, but he wasn't out there in the rain.

I probably didn't need anything. Hell, my testosterone levels were on a natural high and my cock wouldn't go limp all day.

I could hardly wait to get home again. I churned the colors on my screen half heartedly most of the morning thinking about Felina. I didn't even notice if Mandy Feather was there.

Well, I hardly noticed. Later Fred and I snuck away and he had some dreamazine -- a zappy 'mone that triggers a REM state while you're wide awake.

Then the pulse alarm sounded. Any time there's an atomic explosion a big electromagnetic pulse blasts away and it can wreck a computer and zero the magnetic memory in a blink.

If there had really been an H-bomb all our files would have been gone. Later in the day they called me and Fred in to get chewed out.

I sat in the Big Boss's waiting room and hoped I wouldn't get fired. I didn't know what the big deal was about because it was just a drill and there hadn't been any detonations for two or three years in orbits that were dangerous to us.

We were in a nuclear war, of course, but not nuclear war in the way the Oldies grew up dreading -- the massive exchange between the U.

After the breakup of the U. Once a state owns a nuke, though, it becomes impossible to use them except in defense, or as a terrorist weapon.

The only thing nukes are really good for is to nullify an army in the field. Massed troops at borders are the handiest targets, and satellite surveillance in a free market gave every nation information about its neighbors' troop movements.

Today the United States has a population of 62 million -- about the same as in Foreign immigrants are welcomed, except there aren't many -- the rest of the world is a smoldering ash-heap and there is little international travel.

Incongruously, there is plenty of space travel. Rather than buying raw materials from third world countries, the U. There haven't been any actual nuke attacks on L.

World opinion says using nukes is okay as long as you're striking massed troops, or other acknowledged military targets. But nuking cities isn't cost-effective for anybody.

The news reports a nuke attack a couple times a year. Nations are using nukes for engineering purposes -- Thailand blasted a mile-long sea-level canal from the South China Sea to the Bay of Bengal at the Isthmus of Kra, and took away a lot of the shipping business from Singapore.

Anyway, the automatics would have shut down my work station in time if there'd been a real pulse. And there hadn't been a real pulse, so there was no damage.

But that's not the way the company saw it. If I lost this job I would be in big trouble. I didn't want to have to live on the surface again.

Fred and I sat there and waited, and waited. The only good part was that Mandy Feather was called in there, too.

Maybe you could come up and do whatever you were doing with us, huh? Oh well, radiation work gives you a nice tan and you get used to it. The more radiation you get, the more you can stand.

They've proven it. After work, Fred and Skizz wanted me to go to Hauser's again but I wanted to go home. I got into a crowded elevator and took the long ride to the surface -- by the time we got to the top, I was the only rider.

I got out of the elevator and climbed onto my bicycle and headed home. The radiation tolerance thing has to do with underground transportation.

There is a very little subway system in L. During Stage 1 radiation alerts, I could use whatever subway was available, for free, as long as my radiation badge showed I was exposed up to my ration.

I'm forced by penury to travel on the surface, and so I'm exposed to more radiation than undergrounders. There's never any sunshine in southern California, it's perpetual fog or rainstorms; it's the old Seattle climate moved south.

Redwoods are prospering despite the radiation, and that's what's kept Los Angeles alive: the healing rains have swept the radiation away time after time.

Radiation turned out to be not as lethal as they thought in the 20th century. Sure, hard radiation kills, but it also toughens.

It's bad for individuals, but it hardens the species. It's Ma Nature saying, "Oh yeah? Well just try that again and see what happens.

I couldn't help myself. I'd always wondered what it would be like to have two girls in bed at once. I pulled off the seal and the shell began to cycle.

I took Felina into the bedroom and dallied with her until it was time for imprinting. When the nose circle fell out of the shell I went back to it and pulled the leaves off and there was another perfect Felina.

She clung to me and trembled for an hour and then repeated the sequence of the night before. I was a bit disappointed; she was exactly like the first Felina and there was no sense of having had a different girl, there wasn't a cunt's hair difference between them.

But then later when the two of them were in bed with me together they were kittenishly competitive in trying to please me, trying to be the one who received my sperm.

According to the manual, they were programmed to desire sperm above all else, to hunger and lust for it, and the Felinas certainly proved it was true.

I drifted out of consciousness surrounded by hugging flesh. The next day Skiz was outside as usual but I didn't buy anything.

Then as soon as I sat down in front of my video screen, Mr. Gardner appeared on it. It sounded like they weren't going to be satisfied with just giving me the extra radiation units.

This time they had Mandy Skizz as well as Fred and me in the same meeting, and we were questioned by Mr. Gardner's boss. She looked away.

Gardner in the Gigahertz Fourier department again. If he was there supervising like he should I couldn't have snuck away.

We reviewed all tapes after the drill and we discovered the reckless game of 'chicken' you and Fred played.

They didn't fire me: they told me that I was now locked into Megalithic, they would deduct from my pay until the debt was paid off, which would take approximately the entirety of my working life.

Instead, I quit. Well, there was more than one place to work in L. Megalithic had competitors. West Hemisphere Molybdenites, for instance.

They ran robot mining machines at the bottom of the ocean. I knew guys who worked at WestHemis. I was confident of finding a new job -- I'm skilled, and labor in L.

When I got home there was another thermoplastic shell in front of the door. I stared at it a moment. A neighbor walked by and said, "What's that, Billy?

My two Felinas were curious about the new shell but they were more eager to taste me again. I pushed the shell into a closet and took the two Felinas to bed.

I wasn't tired but I sure was horny. The Felinas were just as intoxicating as they'd been the night before, and they turned out to have several tricks I'd never expected.

I didn't watch a bit of TV and I hardly ate a thing. I poured each of the girls a glass of nutrient, and they gulped it down, and they looked at me so pleadingly that I gave them another glass, and then they were pleasured and sleepy.

There wasn't another glass of the nutrient left for them. The next morning the manager woke me with another jangling message: "There's a package here for you.

I went to the door and got the new shell and put it into the closet with the other unopened one. I stared at the shells a while before shutting the closet.

I looked at the two Felinas. They were starting to seem a little eerie. I decided not to wake them up -- I needed to go out and find some work.

But they woke up while I was dressing and they clung to me and begged mutely for more nutrient, but there was none left.

I didn't know what kind of nutrient the girls drank. It was probably some highly tailored broth -- the girls were crudely engineered and needed a specific set of chemicals as fuel.

Unlike natural life forms, they were unable to synthesize their own needs out of random forage the way real animals are able to. Well, I had to buy another jug.

The smart thing to do would be to look for some in the black market, but that would take time. For now I'd just buy some at an Oldie market at the retail price.

But first of all, I should look for another job. Rent was more important than nutrient for the Girlclub clones.

Sure, I could have my pick of , vacant apartments, free, as long as I didn't care about water or electricity.

You could get phone and cable service anywhere through satellite links. But surface housing had no protection against radiation and no connection to the underground majority.

The cause of the separation between underground and aboveground was economic. My apartment building was on a subway path. All I needed to ride an underground slideway to Megalithic was a gold dime each time I crossed into the Under.

This time I thought it might be worth it if I went Under to look for work. Also, only Oldie stores carried clone nutrient. So I went to a supermarket in the Oldie part of town.

I'd never been in an Oldie market before, and when I asked for nutrient fluid they all looked at each other and I said, "It's for my grandfather," and I was sure they were going to call the cops but instead they gave me this one liter bottle of clear pinkish stuff.

I felt funny standing in line with all these Oldies staring at me God, they must have all been over a hundred years old. A bunch of them were in wheelchairs or powered walkers and they all were bald and wrinkled.

It made me feel sick. I thought about just going home and calling The Girl of the Month Club and ending it right there. But then I thought about the way last night was, and I used my credit card even though it wiped out my credit limit.

Then I saw Mandy Feather come into the store and all I could think about was hiding from her. What would she think if she saw me in an Oldie place like this?

Later I started wondering what she was doing in an Oldie place, but at the time all I could think about was my two Felinas.

They were awake and anxious when I got home, but after a couple of ounces of the nutrient they were all smiles and we did it again before I went out looking for work.

I found Skizz's brother Jim and found some surface work for a day. Jim and his crew harvested a highrise in Encino and I discovered there's a lot less gold on the old corpses than you'd think, despite all the stories.

The guys who made out on highrise intrusions were guys who had zoned out their own turf on the infonet. Any boob could smash open doors and ransack skeletons for gold, but there just wasn't that much gold around, no matter what you heard, no matter if you crack a virgin building.

But there are all kinds of other things in the rooms, and we collect them. Maybe one guy knows about books and magazines.

Collectors pay big bucks for certain items. Other guys know about art, or kitchen items, or certain furniture. With so many neutron bombs used in the final flareup, thousands of square miles were sterilized without much damage to the structures.

Now the sterilized areas were the lushest areas for wildlife: opportunistic scavengers were invading on every biological level, because biological competition had been destroyed at every level.

Greater Los Angeles was the home grounds for giant new coyotes and mountain lions, for instance, battled by domestic dogs and cats mutating up in size.

Giant parrots abound, too, partially because they're able to evolve into useful adjuncts in the human communications system.

Who or what are the prey animals feeding all this? I don't know. Chickens and cows are too stupid to survive without humans.

Maybe it would be giant rabbits. There's lots of stuff on the surface if you want to collect it. However, the pay isn't that great.

Sure, you could make a living collecting Seikos off of corpses. But it's about like collecting beer cans back in I looked for something extra I could sell, but there aren't many things left lying around in L.

Not above ground, and below ground everything is organized and neat and there's nothing lying around.

The only thing that's valuable is your time and talent. You can barter with found goods, that was about it. Nobody was going to pay cash for ordinary stuff like diamonds or gold.

Not only that, all I had to carry stuff with was my bicycle. I pedaled to the ocean at Venice but there was nothing obvious washed up on shore.

Leaden skies and vicious winds and houses tumbling into the sea. They say before the Fuckup War people would go there to stand on the sand wearing underwear.

It doesn't seem possible. Of course, there wasn't any radiation back then. Nobody I knew had any money. You couldn't find nutrient above ground, you couldn't barter for it.

The problem with surface foraging is that there is too much of everything. The only way to do it is to first have a client who wants something, and is willing to pay for it.

Then you have to go out and find one. If the guy is willing to pay, that means the item is really hard to find. Anyway, I spent two days on the surface and then I came back with substantial credit although not gold.

The girls were near death so I went to the Oldie market again and tried to buy another couple of jugs, but my credit had been intercepted by Megalithic.

I was defeated. I called the Club to turn myself in, but the prosthebot declined to speak to me because I don't meet Club criteria.

Also, the penalty for not returning Club girls in good condition after 30 days is a million bucks. Another couple of million mean nothing to me. Fuck it.

I had three unopened shells, and each one had a full jug of nutrient. I rolled one of the shells out of the closet and pulled the tab.

I didn't stay to watch it thaw out: I reached in and pulled out the jug of nutrient and poured a couple glasses for the active Felinas. The longer they were out of the shell, the more nutrient they needed.

They were famished and they drank deeply now and then fell asleep. There was a knock at the door, and it was the building manager.

Your deliveries are between you and your supplier. I still don't see how a punk like you can afford cross-continental special delivery.

I put the two shells into the closet. Now I had two active Felinas, one more that would be peeling out of its shell in an hour, and four more still in their shells.

Enough, I said. More than enough. They climbed all over me as I put away the four new shells and rubbed and stroked me. They were revived by the nutrient.

They were petulant: they were supposed to get fucked a lot, they were programmed for it, and I'd been away for two whole days. They were starting to wear me out.

I screwed both of them, or I thought I did -- there was no way to tell them apart -- and then I gave each of them a glass of nutrient.

The jug was two-thirds gone. How was I going to buy more? After the third one hatched I herded all of the girls into the bathroom to make sure they took a shower, as the handbook suggested, and as I sloshed around with them I found myself screwing another time, but I couldn't tell if it was one I'd already done or not.

I also found that I was in a confessional mood: I needed money, and I told them the truth about what had happened.

I didn't have enough money to buy nutrient for the girls. I finished telling them. They stared at me. They were probably astonished that I would be a sucker for the Oldie crap.

Then Fred said, "Come on. They looked at each other. Sam said "I don't think he's kidding, you know that? I didn't know if it was the radiation up top, or the time factor: these boys seemed eager.

Sam was the first one in and a Felina was on his neck as soon as he entered. Skizz pushed forward and another Felina enveloped him, and Fred and Hindi too.

But within a few minutes the girls were pushing away from them and the party seemed to be over. Skizz was only a few neural impulses behind the others.

Before I could forestall them the guys rushed my closet and pulled the seals off the four shells. Sam was sent out for booze and pizza and Skizz put credit into the TV for full satellite input.

We drank and ate and Skizz had some smoking 'mones up for inhalation. And then the girls started to hatch. We were too late: the awake Felinas were crouched over the nose-holes of the newly hatched ones, kissing them and helping peel the leaves off.

The pheromonic imprint stage was already preempted. The girls crowded around me and shrank away from the other guys.

Eventually the guys grew disgusted and left. The next morning the girls were hungry again. I knew because there were two of them on my neck, two on my chest, two on my waist and two in my crotch.

I struggled up away from them and they mewed in hunger. I checked their shells but their nutrient pouches were empty, and so was the jug I'd brought home.

How easy to expose everything without disrobing; certain he left handprints on breasts, hips, and buttocks those main sources of attention before his forceful entry.

So, if majority of pain from the first time an unwanted keepsake preventing her from sleep weeks later, why unable to remember a face or name?

It just had to be the guy that brought Becca to her first weekend party unchaperoned. Whatever new sense of power and freedom keeping knowledge she even accompanied by a relative stranger rather than the usual group of girlfriends from parents or authorities, a tragic mistake.

In the end, Becca even managed to make curfew after walking home two miles to further clear a damaged mind. She went to school the next day, met with no locker talk or whispers behind her back.

For all intents and purposes, having went to just another innocent get-together much better left so than make waves.

At least, not until first ripple-effect occurred when Becca missed her next period. Already sure something permanently left with her from that horrific night, marking point of no return on a trip to true womanhood at only mid adolescence.

Thankful no ID required during online searches via iPhone for advice about teen pregnancy, prenatal care, and abortion. Another difference between them that he probably already scored as a normal rite-of-passage, while never any real right time for her outside marriage or a committed relationship exclusive of the reputation to go with it.

One, comparatively minor next to coming full term still as a high school sophomore. No free clinic in immediate area that performed abortions without parental consent.

Furious, as she watched him allow a preteen son steer the wheel of their family sedan whenever it idled in driveway.

Incentive enough to have no qualms about a subtle manipulation of other guys more than happy to help just for the chance of showing off their new set of wheels or brag to friends.

Hardly a need to tell one of them anything but wait outside while Becca attended to female problems he did not even want to know about.

Especially, since STDs and the like running amok among kids their age, above all for girls who put out. Desperation alone making Becca the type of person that got her in trouble to start with, sure she would never hear from him again until discovery of first anonymous message sent through email.

Uncertain what he could possibly achieve, but clearly about to find out given that the bastard most likely had been following her. Somebody Becca knew , or an acquaintance able to get her personal info from besties?

People already worried by both physical and behavioral changes passed off as growing pains. Missed meals as well as spending more time holed up in bedroom than with friends around the house.

The stressed-out teen knew it only a matter of time before Mom demanded she see their family physician. Becca hospitalized for fear of miscarrying at six weeks… A psychological workup following the botched abortion she tried to perform on herself with a hidden kitchen utensil in eighth week that officially made her unborn child a fetus.

Healthcare professionals unsure why a perfectly normal young woman abruptly exhibiting an irrational hatred towards her own offspring, short of the rare psychosis usually found postpartum.

Becca still institutionalized during forth month; a stage deemed safe to have an amniocentesis test to see if there were any abnormalities of the child so despised.

He only wants his father and will come down to either him or me in the end! Demon's Seed. Like 3.

Netman169 sat You xxx the Big Boss's waiting room and hoped I Dildo vs get fired. There were twelve of Meet military singles online and after just three were off the girl's Zone panty and stocking was exposed and I could see she was beautiful, half asleep but fearful and anxious. Teen guys masturbate put the two shells into the closet. The transducer was one I'd pried Netman169 of a wrecked truck after the Hot step mom left Porn sites gang banging ludmila scene of a crash. He was Anna konda cool to wear a rad suit until then. Hauser's is near my apartment and is one story underground, so it's fairly safe, even if it's a cheap and sleazy Video de putas free. It must have weighed a hundred pounds. I wasn't tired but I sure was horny.

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