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Examination of a NAG





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T H E H O M E R V A R G A S S T O R Y A R C H I V E

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Archive name: ex4.txt

Authors name: Homer Vargas

Story title : Examination of a NAG

-----------------------------------------------------

(c) Copyright Homer Vargas - 1998 - This work is

copyrighted to the author, with all rights reserved.

This story may be archived and displayed on non-

commercial web sites without permission, but please

make no chages to the text and do not remove the

author name or address. Thank you

-----------------------------------------------------

Although this story is self contained, it alludes

to three earlier stories, "The Examination," "On

Further Examination" and "Wonder Woman's

Examination." I like to believe you will enjoy

this more if you have read the others first.

Examination of a NAG

by Homer Vargas

Sometimes Kate Harridan thought *Milly* was

the cause of her headaches, the way her

administrative assistant went on and on, urging

her boss to see a doctor about the trivial

ailment. Milly ought to have been working for

Kate long enough to know by now she *always* got

headaches when she was under stress. And Lord

knows she had cause enough for stress. Just

moving the headquarters of NAG (National

Association of Grrls), the organization Kate had

founded, from San Francisco to Washington was

stressful enough. Then the disasters began.

The movers had hardly finished putting all

the ficuses in place when the Finger scandal

broke. Carol Finger, yes, Senator Finger herself,

was caught in a sexual liaison with one of her

hunky interns. "Sexual liaison" hell, the Senator

was getting her lights fucked out daily if not

more often. Truth be told, Carol Finger had never

been a credit to the World's Greatest Deliberative

Body, but she was on NAG's Board of Directors and

the organization had to back her up. Always ready

with a faux feminist rationale for her erratic

positions on issues, Carol compiled an amazingly

inconsistent and self-serving voting record.

The disclosure that Senator Finger was having

sex with a boy half her age was bad enough. Worse

was the grainy photo obtained by the other party

showing a plump middle-aged woman draped over an

arm chair, red skirt up around her waist and red

panties down around her ankles, being skewered to

her obvious delight by a muscular blonde. The

President's picture above the desk smiled down in

apparent approbation, or was it envy?

The Senator made everything ten time worse,

however, at the news conference she gave to

announce her resignation. Kate had read the

transcript and seen the video enough times to have

the gut-wrenching performance memorized. The

rhetorical low points were burned into her memory.

"Hell, yes, I'm having an affair with this

gorgeous boy and I sure don't intend to apologize

for it," the Senator declared. "That's the

difference between men and real Grrls. I do *not*

beg forgiveness from my husband and family and

this has definitely *not* made my marriage to the

wimp stronger. In fact, I'm going to divorce his

ass! And for all you school marms of whatever

profession that `can't understand' how a woman of

`my age' can take up with a twenty year old stud-

muffin, let me spell it out for you. S-E-X.

Clear enough? Let me be more specific. T-E-N I-

N-C-H C-O-C-K. Need more? How about, T-W-O. I-

N-C-H. D-I-A-M-E-T-E-R? I've got the boy putting

the wood to me like I haven't gotten it in years

and damned if I'm going to stop him."

"Take it from me, Grrls, get your self one of

these," she proclaimed lustily, reaching over to

fondle the erection of the handsome young man

standing beside her, smiling even though he was a

little dim to fully comprehend what was going on.

"Stop grinding up the contraband Viagra in the old

fart's oatmeal at night. It's not doing either of

you any good," she admonished. "Loose some lard

ladies, get your titties a silicone upgrade if

they need it, buy yourself a few hot little minis,

and wiggle your ass down to the nearest sports

bar. I guarantee within a week you'll be getting

your pussy plowed or I'll let you have Arnold for

a night. If you are lucky, you might even find a

plowman who can remember which morning to take out

the garbage, but don't hold your breath.

Remember, Grrls, there's just one thing a man's

good for. If he's well equipped between his legs,

don't worry about what he's got between his ears."

"There is, however, one particularly

disgusting canard out there, that I must most

emphatically deny. I did *not* let my fuck toy

`get me pregnant.' I got this," Carol paused for

effect and lifted her obscenely short skirt to

display a telling bulge in her panties, "Because

*I* threw away the pills. *I* decided on the best

dates. *I* locked him in the hotel room and kept

the pillows under my ass. *I* made sure he gave

me frequent re-fills of jizz all weekend long.

I'm having this baby because *I* guided his big

cock into me and made him shoved it farther down

into my fertile womb than he ever had before.

Arnold, the dear, just supplied the semen, one

thing he can do very well." Arnold grinned,

suspecting the nice woman had said something good

about him again.

Ex-Senator Finger had gone on for twenty

minutes in that vein. It had been a public

relations catastrophe ending with the horrific

finale. "Therefore I am resigning my seat in the

United States Senate. Not because I am ashamed of

myself, but because there isn't a man there who

can fuck worth a damn -- and the women aren't much

better. I don't have time to listen to windbags

when I could be on my back getting a prong where

it belongs. And so adieu and fuck yieu!" she

concluded giving the middle finger salute for the

nation's television cameras.

The furor over l'affaire Finger had barely

died down when NAG was embarrassed to learn that

Wonder Woman was out of service. For some time it

had been damned hard to get in touch with her.

The Army's main contact with the superheroine,

Diana Prince, was spending every free hour shacked

up with Col. Steve Trevor and had the little

round tummy to prove it.

When the lovebirds could at last be prevailed

upon to call in Wonder Woman, it was revealed just

why the superheroine had been keeping out of

sight. Although the Amazonian Princess wasn't

telling who had done the deed, America's first

line of defense had irresponsibly let some man put

a bun in her oven and her doctor didn't allow her

to travel. Consequently, the US military had to

deal with a rogue faction of the Ruritanian

Defense Force without the assistance of its

superheroine. It was close run thing.

Finally, although it was not a crisis, Kate

became increasingly aware of the subtly hostile

atmosphere to NAG's agenda in the Washington

social milieu. Kate had expected to find

Washington full of sour women -- hard-bitten

lawyers, disgruntled NGO executives, and angry

consultants -- eager to become NAGs. Instead,

every time she turned around Kate heard another

story of a professional woman who suddenly quit

her job to become a happy little sex kitten for

her boyfriend and promptly got herself knocked up

or one who had to give up her career when she

"accidentally" let her husband make her pregnant

again. Hundreds of women with children in college

were waddling around in maternity dresses again or

were back to washing diapers. Some were doing

both. Olivia Fuentes in NAGs Research department

confirmed that the birth rate among upper middle

class women ages 30-45 in the Washington

metropolitan area was almost double the national

average and was still shooting up.

The queen bee of these "New Feminists," as

she dubbed them, was Angelica Lopez, the new

editor of the Post's "Style" section. And

Angelica made no secret whom she considered to be

the "Old Feminists." Angelica was an odd bird,

Kate thought. Admittedly she had a strong claim

to being a feminist. She was a successful young

woman with a six figure income and a handsome,

slavish husband whom she kept home to look after

the house -- and the kids. That was the odd part.

Angelica had five children under four and was

pregnant again. She filled "Style" with stories

about having sex and having babies. Thousands of

readers adored Angelica, but unfortunately, had

rather less supportive husbands than their icon.

So when their bellies started getting big, they

were the ones who stayed home to care for the

little shoot.

No, Kate didn't come by her headaches gratis.

She had to admit, though, that Milly might have a

point. Her assistant did seem so happy and full

of life since her visit to Dr. Bock. Maybe it

was a good thing NAG had selected him. Several

women doctors had bid for the contract to be NAG's

Preferred Provider of gynecological and (Ha!)

obstetric services, but Bock's price was just too

good. Moreover, Carol Finger and Milly, who had

been on the selection committee, had returned

singing the praises of the Bock Clinic.

Grudgingly, Kate told the eager AA to make an

appointment for her the next week.

This made Milly very happy. Although she

knew Kate would not understand the recent changes

in her life, much less approve of them, Milly was

convinced somehow that the visit to Dr. Bock had

been a turning point. Although she could not

remember much about what happened there, since

then Milly had blossomed socially. To be more

exact, were Milly not such a little lady, one

would say she had turned into a cock hound!

Like many women who discover the joys of sex

a little tardily, Milly focused on the basics,

seeking to make up for lost time. Candles at

dinner were an unnecessary expense and wine,

however useful for getting a guy into bed,

interfered with good service once she had him

there. Experience had taught her that a big plate

of pasta before the main event and Gatorade, kept

by the bedside for pit stops, were all that was

needed for the kind of strenuous lovemaking she

demanded.

Milly was not yet much into romance. Her

idea of a long term relationship was a guy who

would pick her up at work on Friday afternoon and

would still be performing to spec Monday morning

when she reluctantly made him climb off and go

home so she could get ready for work. Sadly,

Milly had not yet found the man she was looking

for, so she made do with a team. A major league

manager planning his pitching rotation for the

playoffs had nothing on Milly's strategizing her

boyfriend schedule according to her moods and

social occasions.

Primus inter pares was Horse, the Washington

Wizards' center who was hung like a ... well, the

eponymous farm animal. Carlos was a dance

instructor whose introduction of the movements of

Salsa, Cumbia, and the Meringue into his frenetic

lovemaking more than compensated for his small

stature. Wentworth was a pleasant looking banker,

rich as sin, and not too bad in the sack. He had

his uses. The sleeper of the group was Albert who

worked at National Science Foundation. He was

terribly bright and didn't look so goofy now that

Milly had convinced him to get contact lenses.

Albert was still a bit of a nerd, but Milly

decided must have a Ph.D. in the geography of

erogenous zones and had perhaps done some post-

doctoral work in cunnilingus. He could get her

off so well with his fingers and his mouth, Milly

only fucked him to be a good sport ... and

because his prick was almost as big as Horse's.

Amaka was also happy to get Milly's call that

Ms Harridan would be coming for a visit and

immediately informed James. "You handle her

honey. After all, she *is* a feminist."

Emboldened by James's confidence in her, Amaka did

a little research on her patient-to -be. Although

Kate had written several books, the locus

classicus of her anti-male ideology was, "Forget

It!" This screed was mainly famous for Kate's

aphorism, that "a woman needs a man like a fish

needs a bicycle."

When Amaka saw Kate's scowling face, she knew

this was not going to be easy. She decided that

the best approach would be a respectful,

businesslike tone. "Since you're a new patient,

Ms Harridan, I'll need to get some preliminary

information."

"I assumed that that was the purpose of

having me fill out the form," Kate icily replied.

"You're quite right," Amaka assured her,

wanting to get her into at least a semi-

cooperative mood as quickly as she could. "All

the basic, standard information is on the form,

and of course I won't waste your time asking you

to repeat it. All I need to do now is get some

more details medical history, and because so many

questions are contingent on other questions, it's

a lot faster and more efficient to do that in an

interview."

Kate seemed to accept this common sense

explanation, if reluctantly. She nodded and said,

"Very well."

"OK, glancing over what you put down, it

looks like the only medical problem you've had in

the past several years has been headaches, is that

right?"

"That's correct."

"No history of sinus trouble? Good eyesight?

Has there been a change in your symptoms

recently?"

Kate answered the first two questions with a

quick negative shake of her head. "The headaches

have been getting worse in the past few weeks.

Well, I'm not sure they're worse, just more

frequent."

"I see. And has anything changed recently

about your habits or your diet or your environment

at home or at work?"

"I keep telling my secretary it's stress, and

I have certainly had to deal with a good many

problems recently. Unfortunately, stress is

unavoidable in my work."

"Do you anything to relax?"

"I don't have much time for relaxing." Kate's

expression changed from sourness and impatience to

one of passionate zeal. "I don't know if you're

aware of how much ground the feminist movement has

lost in the past few decades. It's all we can do,

those of us who still care about it, to keep

things from sliding back into the dark ages."

"The real crisis is that we women have

ourselves given up the fight. A lot of us have

convinced ourselves that full-fledged feminism is

extremist rather than simply right. Some even

take delight in being sex objects, living their

lives as if they were in some male fantasy. I

don't suppose you've read Andrea Dworkin?"

Amaka had in fact read some Dworkin, but she

shook her head, not wanting to extend the

discussion if she could avoid it. But Kate seemed

to be on a roll.

"Well, you should read Dworkin; she's a very

important writer. But even Dworkin is too

tolerant for my tastes. men have subjugated women

for years, using them for sexual pleasure and to

make babies and to clean up after them. And look

at so-called women's magazines! What are they

about? Babies, sex, and how to have a pretty

house! We're subjugating ourselves! Every time a

woman has sex, she's cooperating with the

oppressor!"

This was not going the way Amaka had

intended. She had meant to gradually steer the

discussion around to the need to relax, then

either to the use of tranquilizers or self-

hypnosis, which would give her the opening she

needed to start this woman's conditioning. But

she couldn't help saying, "I've heard that Andrea

Dworkin says that any sex involving penetration is

inherently sexist. Is that what you mean?"

Kate shook her head emphatically. "No,

Dworkin has that completely wrong. That's a

detail, mere symbolism. It isn't how you have

sex, it's having sex at all. Any kind of sex

subjugates women to men!"

Amaka looked at her with real curiosity.

"Well, what if there aren't any men involved?

What if it's just two gir -- two women? How can

that o--"

Kate cut her off impatiently. "That's still

sex, isn't it? Do you think that makes any

difference to a man? men love the idea of lesbian

sex! They like it as much as they do male-female

sex. Maybe more!"

Amaka opened her mouth to say something, but

decided better of it. Reminding herself that this

was not going anywhere useful, so she decided to

revert to her original plan. "You make a very

good point," she said, hoping agreement would

avoid extending the argument. "You're absolutely

right. Your work is very important. Vital. And

I'm sure your headaches are interfering with your

work, so we had better do something about them."

"Yes," Kate agreed, putting her palm to her

forehead and seeming to sag slightly.

"Are you getting a headache now?" Amaka

asked.

"Yes," Kate said. "I guess I got a little

too intense." She looked up sharply. "But it's

important! Ow!"

Amaka stood up and moved behind the woman.

She began massaging Kate's shoulder's while trying

to make it seem like an examination. The woman's

shoulder muscles felt like taut steel cables. "Ms

Harridan," Amaka said, "I believe that

hypertension of the striated muscles might be at

the root of your sensitivity to stress. I would

like to examine your staticodynamic

ligomusculature more thoroughly. Please remove

your outer clothing and lie down on the examining

table."

Kate looked sourly doubtful. "I had assumed

the doctor would examine me."

"And I'm sure he will," Amaka said with a

second unstated meaning. "But I assure you that

I'm a qualified medical professional, although I'm

sure I don't have to tell you that, since you

would not underrate the nursing profession simply

because it is traditionally female."

Kate seemed horrified by the very suggestion

and quickly said, "Oh, of course not. I, I simply

was concerned about the time. But perhaps you're

right." Efficiently, and without the slightest

sign of either shame or delight about the process,

she stripped to cotton briefs. No doubt all her

bras were burned years ago, Amaka told herself.

"OK, now if you'll just lie down here. No,

face down, please. All right, now tell me if I

hurt you."

But of course she had no intention of

hurting. Amaka massaged the woman's shoulders,

her back, her legs and arms, alternately gently

and firmly, all the while trying to make it seem

like an examination despite the pleasure she was

sure she was provoking. Occasionally she allowed

her large uniform-covered breasts to brush against

her patient's bare skin as if by accident, and she

let the tips of her fingers brush a few times

against the sides of the woman's breasts. Kate

showed no suspicion of what Amaka was up to, but

she did show signs of responding and trying to

conceal it. Amaka grinned inwardly, wondered if

this woman ever had a massage before. Probably

not the sort of thing a tight ass like her would

go in for. May that was why she was reacting so

well to this one.

When Amaka shifted her attention to the

surprisingly cute little ass, though, she provoked

a more negative reaction. "What are you doing?"

Kate suddenly demanded.

Sounding professional, Amaka said, "I'm sorry

if I startled you. Headaches can originate in

primary or secondary muscle tension anywhere in

the body, but especially near the head and spine,

and in particular with the larger muscles, such as

the gluteus maximus, here. I notice you seem to

be particularly tense around the base of the

spine, and I really should examine the whole

pelvic area for my report."

Kate reluctantly let her press and feel her

way around, and after a while the ass muscles no

longer clinched up when she touched them.

"How's your headache?" Amaka asked.

"Why, it's gone!" Kate sounded genuinely

surprised.

"Good. Sometimes the physiological

manipulation necessary for the examination is

itself therapeutic." Damn, she thought, she was

starting to sound like what's her name on ER. "In

fact, I believe it would help establish a

treatment modality that I could report to the

doctor if I tried one additional thing."

Amaka looked around for some oil but couldn't

find any. "I'll be right back," she said as she

hastened out of the room.

Kate lay there feeling better and almost

relaxed. Perhaps her initial skepticism of this

nurse had been based upon some residual sexism.

After all, it pervaded society, and patriarchal

values were passed on as much by mothers as by

fathers -- that was the insidiousness of it. She

should have thought to mention that in explaining

how even lesbian sex could be oppressive of women,

in that it reflected the patriarchal socioeconomic

system. Marx had been, in his typical male way,

wrong. It was not religion but sex that was the

opiate of the masses, especially the female

masses, and as with any seemingly pleasurable

addictive drug it was best avoided.

The nurse came back with some sort of bottle.

"This is a therapeutic lubricating oil," she

explained. "It will help me perform a palpatative

examination of the deeper musculature." Amaka

neglected to mention that the oil had several

tranquilizers that would be absorbed through the

skin mixed with it. Since her close call with

that tough Ms. Lopez, Amaka took no chances.

Slowly, she began to smooth the cool liquid on

Kate's back.

Kate had found the initial examination

pleasurable, almost embarrassingly so, but when

the nurse's oiled fingers began sliding over her,

pressing gently here and there, then stroking so

lightly it was barely a touch, it felt incredible,

like nothing, well, like nothing she'd experienced

in many years. It made it hard to think. Perhaps

she should make her stop, but that was silly, this

was simply a medical examination, even if it was a

kind she wasn't familiar with.

"Excuse me, but I don't want to get oil on

your panties," the nurse said, and Kate felt them

being pulled down to expose her posterior. The

sensation of the slippery hands examining her bare

bottom was shocking to Kate, but she strove to

avoid showing any sign of it. Only when an oiled

finger feeling about her tailbone slipped briefly

down between her cheeks did she start to say

something. It was over too quickly, before she

could object, although not before it had given her

a strange and strangely pleasurable, frisson.

"Now please turn over," the nurse instructed,

and Kate did so. The nurse put more oil on her

hands and proceeded to examine Kate's shoulders,

neck, and sides. Amaka moved to stand at the head

of the examining table. Kate felt the nurse's

gentle fingers trail lightly across the muscles of

her face and forehead, then to the sides of her

neck and her shoulders, then back to the face.

She felt much better and more relaxed, but she

noticed that her nipples seemed to be standing up.

Much as she hated to admit it, Kate knew she was

becoming aroused.

The nurse said something Kate didn't catch.

She realized that her eyes were closed and she

opened them. The nurse was leaning over her, her

face upside down from this angle, some sort of

shiny amulet hanging from her neck and swinging

slightly.

"I want you to relax as much as you can, Ms

Harridan. Based on the what I've seen so far, I

believe it's very likely that your headaches are a

consequence of general musculoskeletal

hypertonality. It should respond well to

treatment if we know its full extent."

The skillful hands ranged more freely over

Kate's body as the amulet swung over her face,

capturing her attention. Gradually Amaka moved to

stand beside Kate's head, one hand continuing to

explore her upper body and the other straying

lower and lower in its gentle, pleasurable

examination of the abdomen.

Kate felt herself drifting into almost a

dream state, aware that she shouldn't fall asleep

in the examining room but too relaxed -- more

relaxed than she had been in years, she thought --

to really care. In fact, the nurse kept telling

her to relax, and she kept feeling herself do so

more and more.

Almost in a daze she heard the nurse say,

"Now, I need to check some interior muscle

tension, so don't be startled. This will only

take a moment." And she felt a lubricated finger

slip gently into her vagina. The pleasurable

shock was intense and it was all Kate could do not

to cry out or arch her back. The finger moved

around inside her, setting off little rockets of

delight. Then it began to pump in and out of her

while the nurse kept telling her to relax, relax,

go to sleep for her, go to sleep, listen only to

her voice ...

A weak thought that had for some time been in

the back of Kate's mind, one she had been refusing

to listen to, suddenly shouted its way into her

consciousness. This wasn't any damned medical

examination. There was no medical reason for

finger fucking. This was a seduction attempt.

This so-called nurse was trying to have sex with

her, and a lesser woman than Kate Harridan would

have fallen into her trap!

"What the hell are you doing!" she spat out,

trying to sit up.

The nurse, still standing beside her, looked

a little surprised by the attempt at resistance,

but her hand didn't miss a stroke and Kate

realized to her horror that she half-wanted her to

continue.

Amaka leaned over her, keeping Kate from

rising, murmuring soothing instructions to relax

and as the pleasure between her legs increased,

Kate felt the tenseness draining out of her again

against her will.

"Stop it!" Kate insisted, weakly trying to

close her legs and push away the hand that was

robbing her of her will. "I know what you're

doing and it isn't going to work!"

"Isn't it?" Amaka asked sweetly. "I believe

you've overlooked something about sex. Just

because men like sex doesn't mean it's bad for

women. In fact, it's a source of female power.

I'm using it on you right now, and it's pretty

effective, wouldn't you say?"

"No, no That's lipstick feminism crap! All

bullshit!" Kate replied foggily. She was still

trying to push the nurse's hand away from her, but

she was at a disadvantage half-lying in this

position. Every time she managed to force the

nurse's hand away with both of hers, Amaka simply

writhed her oiled hand free and went back to what

she was doing. Covering herself with her hands

didn't work either, because the nurse simply

shifted the focus of her attack to Kate's

sensitive inner thighs or sides or breasts, and

Kate was by now so turned on that almost any

contact with those skilled fingers sent

involuntary thrills through her.

This is crazy! Kate told herself. Why can't

I fight this? I've had enough men think they

could seduce me, hoping to bag a feminist as a

trophy, and those stupid bastards never came

close. What's this woman doing to me? Why can't

I control myself? Her mind seemed sluggish,

unable to think. She felt the nurse's lips

encircle one of her nipples and begin to suckle,

the hot tongue flicking across and around the hard

bud. She couldn't keep from whimpering from

unwanted but undeniable pleasure, and she began

relaxing back onto the table.

"Don't fight me, baby. You're too hot to

fight. You need to relax and have a good come!"

As her struggles gradually weakened and eyes began

to drift closed Kate began to figure it out.

Amaka wasn't just seducing her. All that talk

about relaxing, that sparkling, waving amulet, it

had to be hypnosis. She was being seduced and

hypnotized at the same time, with the one

reinforcing the other and making them both

incredibly hard to fight.

That meant she was in much greater danger

than she'd realized. This wasn't just some horny

lesbian after sex as she'd thought. This was

someone who wanted to take complete control of

her, to reduce her to some kind of sex slave or

worse. She couldn't let that happen, she had to

fight it. If she didn't fight it, who knew what

might happen?

Was this what had happened to Milly? Had

Milly been brainwashed at this place? And Carol

Finger! That explained her disgusting

transformation. Now Kate wasn't just angry or

upset, she ought to be scared, but somehow she

wasn't.

She tried again to fend her off her seducer,

struggling. This time she almost succeeded in

sitting up.

Amaka wrapped her arms around her and began

whispering in her ear. "You can't get away now,

you're too far gone, honey, so horny. Now relax

for me, relax now..."

Kate felt herself responding to the

suggestions and said, "No!" She twisted around,

trying to get away. Amaka was still breathing in

her ear, "You can't resist me. Give in. You want

to give in. You want to come too bad. Close your

eyes, now. Sleep for me. Sleep..."

Kate continued to squirm against her

attacker, trying to get away, trying not to

listen, but her sense of touch, made

hypersensitive by the massage, made the struggling

contact more and more erotic. When she fought to

keep her eyes open despite the hypnotic

suggestions she felt her sexual arousal grow

irresistibly, and when she tried to concentrate on

controlling her sexual instincts her eyelids

refused to stay open.

Little by little she felt herself relaxing

back onto the examining table. She ordered her

body to obey her, to throw off this female

collaborator with the forces of patriarchy, but

her body had already sold out to the pleasurable

sensations Amaka could produce.

Amaka's hands were once again exploring her

body, forcing her to respond against her will.

Kate felt helplessly half angry, partly

frustrated, but more and more she felt another

sensation, an undeniable sensation, not quite a

buzzing but something rather like it, that seemed

to pervade the whole area between her legs and

fuzzy mound just before it. Amaka's hands were

there, making her feel this way.

As the sensation grew it drove before it all

her other thoughts and feelings. She heard

herself gasping for breath, felt her hips bucking

violently against the table, felt her vaginal

muscles, all her muscles, suddenly contract and

squeeze tight and her breathing stop for an

instant, and then the first orgasm she had had

since high school, since before she joined the

movement, came flooding over her like a hot tidal

wave, like a wall of lava, like nothing she could

even imagine, and she felt her little remaining

will slipping away and her whole self, mind and

body, fall under the power of the beautiful black

woman.

Two hours later Amaka was smiling as a dazed

but dreamily smiling Kate Harridan stood up to go,

still a little shaky. "I'm so happy it turned out

those headaches were just stress related, Ms

Harridan. If you just listen every day to the

tapes and take the pills Dr. Bock put in you bag,

you'll be pleased with the change." Amaka

instructed, not adding that she knew someone else

who would be even more pleased.

*****

Milly did not expect an immediate

transformation; instead she just smiled at the

slow improvements she began to notice in Kate's

demeanor and wardrobe. Week by week the hem of

her boss's skirts crept up until they were a

really impressive six inches above the large

woman's knees. The severe bun gave way to tight

curls with sexy highlights. Some criticized the

large loopy earrings that appeared in Kate's newly

pierced ears and other thought the bangles were

not serious enough for the head of NAG. High heel

strap sandals and brightly painted toe nails also

signaled that something was afoot. Kate's blouses

got frillier and when they became translucent,

Milly noted that Kate's respectable boobies were

on display in some eye-catching bras whose colors

matched those of the blouses.

For a few days Milly feared that Kate was

getting dolled up with an eye to making passes at

her or some of the other women at NAG. In an

organization like theirs, several were of that

persuasion. Even before Kate's transformation,

Ethel Parker in Accounting had lusted for the

shapely head of NAG. The slim woman was always

attracted by opposites. She had dreamed of

removing Kate's thick jacket and heavy blouse and

getting her bony fingers on that overflowing set

of jugs. She yearned to pull down one of those

wool skirt and peel off the opaque pantyhose to

get her henna curls between Kate's plump legs.

The very thought of the effort required to get

Kate naked almost exhausted her, but Ethel

reckoned there was enough Kate underneath all

those clothes to be worth it. Now that Kate was

sporting mini skirts with stockings and revealing

blouses, Ethel was shivering with lust.

Ethel's desire for Kate was apparent to Milly

who knew she would have to be alert. Nothing

untoward must developed before she could get the

sexy redhead some professional help from Dr.

Bock. Her worries about Kate, however, vanished

when Milly saw how her boss enjoyed flirting with

and teasing the bicycle delivery boys. The

President of NAG became a real hit the young men

as she bent over to sign for packages, making sure

her skirt hiked up almost to her crotch and

setting her titties to bob tantalizingly. She

didn't seem to mind when the same boy returned to

have her sign two or three times for the same

item.

Milly would have been equally amused had she

been able to observe the daily vignettes that had

developed at Kate's apartment. One morning soon

after Kate started dressing a little more like a

woman, she got a single, almost deferential little

wolf whistle from a worker at the construction

site across the street. Kate flashed him a grin

and rewarded him with an extra swing of her hips

as she slid her shapely ass into the little Neon.

The next day several pairs of masculine eyes

awaited Kate's emergence from her building. The

sight of a healthily built lady with a skirt cut

closer to her waist than her knees and whose hips

rolled provocatively as she undulated toward her

automobile, did not disappoint them. A whole

flute section of whistles and trills registered

the men's approval.

Fortunately, Kate was punctual so she caused

little disruption to the construction schedule

when every morning at exactly 7:25 all activity

stopped. Seventy five men waited to see what bit

of exaggerated exhibitionism the hot broad across

the street had in store for them that day.

Whatever it was always drew a chorus of approving

hoots and cheers. Kate loved the effect she had

on all those burly men. Of course all those burly

men had quite an effect on Kate, too. During her

drive to work she had quite a tingle between her

legs that forced her to steer with one hand much

of the time. By her arrival at the office the

first few days, her panties were too soaked to be

worn. She coped by donning `Lite Days' and

changing the pad first thing.

Although Kate's headaches were gone, Milly

noted that her boss still was not entirely well.

She seemed distracted and had difficulty

concentrating. Milly smiled, remembering how

antsy she had felt before she met Horse. Several

times when Milly walked into Kate's office

unexpectedly, she glimpsed Kate quickly

withdrawing her hand from between her legs. She

decided Kate was ready for the proffered help.

One day soon afterward Kate returned from

lunch to find a package on her desk. "Milly, what

is this doing here?," she asked.

"I ... er ... it's ... uhh ... something

I got for you, ma'am. I thought you might you

need it."

Puzzled, Kate opened the package. "Milly!

This looks like a ..." she gasped, looking at the

long cylindrical object.

"The batteries go in there," Milly said

shyly, pointing and trying to keep everything

matter of fact. "I put in a fresh set of Eveready

Energizers."

Kate turned beet red and ordered Milly out of

the office. Disgusted, she thrust the object into

the bottom drawer. Try as she might, though, she

couldn't get it out of her mind. She had already

changed pads once that afternoon; it was hard to

wait for five o'clock to go home. She didn't make

it. About 4:30, Kate told Milly to hold all her

calls and a soft hum interspersed with muffled

moans and sighs began emanating from Kate's

office. Milly was still hearing them when she

left for her night with Horse. Next morning, she

found a more serene Kate asleep on the couch in

her office. Milly made a note to send out for

more Energizers.

A few days later Milly got the call she had

been expecting. "Yes, sir, I gave it to her." ...

"I think so, sir. She took it home and she's been

coming in late." ... "If you say, sir."

With some trepidation, Milly spoke into the

intercom. "A Mr. William Jenkins on the line for

you, ma'am." ... "He didn't say, ma'am."

"What do *you* want, Bill?" Kate demanded

sourly. There was no reason to feign civility.

Bill Jenkins was President of NARM (National

Association of Real Men). His organization of

male chauvinist pigs was opposed to everything NAG

stood for. The fact that Bill had dumped her for

that skinny blonde bimbo at Berkeley had nothing

to do with her distaste for the man.

"Ahw, don't be that way, Katie," Bill

pleaded, perhaps forgetting how she *hated* being

called "Katie." "I thought it was time NAG and

NARM buried the hatchet, you know, start to work

together as partners.

"Partners? In what, for heaven's name?"

"Go out to dinner with me tonight and let me

explain." he entreated.. "Please?"

Kate was about to hang up on the asshole, but

something made her hesitate. Perhaps it would be

droll to hear how Bill Jenkins thought the

organizations he and Kate headed could be

"partners." "Pick you up at 8:30?" he asked.

Kate surprised herself with the pains she

took to look her best. She had been wondering

when she would wear that rather daring little red

leather mini she had picked up a few days ago on a

whim. Well, why not? Let the bastard look, for

all he good it would do him. He had always been a

leg man. In fact, why not *tease* him a little?

Make the old goat regret fucking that blonde who

had a waist twice hers by now, Kate would wager.

A deliciously wicked thought crossed her mind.

Did she really need a bra? Her tits were big

girls; they could take care of themselves. The

stupid man had passed up many a happy night

pleasuring these babies just because the blonde

minx opened her legs for him the first time they

were alone together, Kate thought with disgust.

Kate considered going without panties, too --

that would give him an eyeful -- but rejected the

idea. For some reason she was *pretty* damp down

there tonight. She didn't want to soil her skirt.

The red fishnet stockings would be a nice touch.

Four inch heels were good enough for the office,

but she decided on the fire-engine red five-inch

pumps for tonight. Finally she dabbed on

"Midnight Assignation." Marie? Hadn't that been

the bitch's name?

Kate couldn't understand the way Bill squired

her into the restaurant, seeming to treat the

occasion as a date rather than a business meeting.

She tried to turn the conversation to professional

matters but found it difficult over the arucula

and radiccio salad, broiled lobster, and a fruity

Australian white wine. Bill repeatedly deflected

her questions with witty stories that kept Kate

tittering. The pig was a great raconteur; always

had been, now that she thought of it. Letting him

refill her wine glass that third time could have

been a mistake; it didn't get her any closer to

understanding his ideas of partnership.

She had even less success on the dimly lit

dance floor. Kate had forgotten how much fun it

was to be whirled and twirled around by a man who

really knew those old steps that few people did

nowadays. When the music turned slower and she

felt his hands caress her buttocks, it just felt

so natural to melt into his arms and let him hold

her close. Snuggling her head against his

shoulder didn't really mean anything romantic; it

was just a social ritual. But it was certainly

not conducive to serious talk about institutional

partnership.

No, Kate realized, if she was going to find

out what Bill had in mind for NAG and NARM

collaboration, she would just have to go back to

his house with him as he suggested. If she had

not been having so much fun, Kate would have been

really annoyed at all this beating around the

bush. In the car with his arm around her was the

same. Would this bear of a man ever get serious?

Why did he want to have a liqueur on the couch

before he would out with it? It was very nice of

him to tell her how pretty she looked, but what

did that have to with his idea of partnership?

And flattering though it was that Bill though she

had pretty legs and wanted to see more of them,

pushing her dress up like that was quite naughty,

though it did make Kate laugh.

Well, that she had a great set of jugs was no

news to Kate! She guessed there was no real harm

in letting him unbutton her blouse to admire them

better. In fact, it had its practical advantage.

If Bill had been kissing her man melters, as he

was now, through the material of her blouse, what

a dry cleaning bill she would have!

Men! They could go to the moon and explore

continents but needed help with the zipper of a

woman skirt! She hated to think of the commotion

if she hadn't been clever enough to leave the bra

at home. Oh, that was nice. Having her titties

kissed while a hand wormed it way into her panties

was a lot more exciting now than she remembered

from the back seat of Bill's automobile in

college. My Goodness! Bill Jenkins had learned a

few things about women in the last twenty years,

Kate reflected. She was sure he would never have

know how to put his mouth down *there* in college!

Uhh! "A few things?" My god, a lot! When had he

pushed aside her panties? He had his tongue in

her ... UUU! ... He was going to make her ...

AAAH ... yes, she was about to ...

"Ahiyouuuuu!" Kate wailed as she came.

After that, the exact sequence of events was

a bit fuzzy, but they included Kate tottering

upstairs a few orgasms later in just her panties

and heels. Bill's hand on her shapely ass

provided the needed guidance. Somehow the

panties, too, disappeared and Kate found herself

lying on her back, red spikes pointed to the

ceiling with a naked Bill Jenkins looming over

her. His prick was about halfway into her very

wet pussy and sinking deeper! Kate knew she was

about to orgasm again.

Moments later another inhuman shriek pierced

the midnight calm.

"Oh shit!" Bill thought Of all the times for

his home security alarm to malfunction, why *now*?

He scrambled down to the basement to turn the

infernal contraption off as quickly as possible

without disturbing the aroused woman lying naked

in his bed, but when he returned, he saw the spell

was broken. With fire in her eyes Kate was down

in the living room with her panties back on,

pulling up her skirt and searching for her blouse.

"You son of a bitch!" Kate hissed. "You

deceitful, low life, treacherous scoundrel. Why

waste abuse on a snake like you? Take me home

this instant!"

Kate Harridan when she was riled, brooked no

dissent. A chastened Bill Jenkins meekly opened

the car door for the fuming woman. She slammed it

closed herself. "But Katie ..." he tried to

explain as he slid into the driver's side.

"Shut up! I don't want a peep out of you!"

Kate glowered. There was nothing Bill could do

but start the car and point it in the direction of

Kate's apartment. To break the silence he slipped

a cassette in the tape player.

Kate was furious, as wrought up as she ever

remembered being. As with most women, when she

was angry with herself, she projected her ire

outward. What a creep! How could Bill Jenkins

think she would fall for that romantic evening

routine? Bill Jenkins playing the gentleman!

What a laugh! Bill Jenkins was no gentleman. He

was a rogue, a cad. The machista pig's idea of a

good night with a woman was probably to throw the

bitch down on a hardwood floor and fuck her

senseless.

Kate bet he'd done it enough times, too,

starting with that dumb blonde in college. Bill

sure had the equipment for it. Kate eyed the

bulge in his pants knowingly. Silly women didn't

stand a chance with men like Bill. Just like that

college floozy, they would glimpse a prong like

Bill's and get so horny they couldn't keep their

legs together. Any man with a prick the size of

Bill Jenkins's was dangerous. Kate had never seen

a package that size in a pair of pants. Bill

probably had women falling over him, hot little

numbers half his age that welcomed him into their

warm wet fuck holes in a trice. Gad how she hated

him!

"O. K., Katie. Here we are." Bill said at

last. "And I really am sorry about ..."

"I thought I told you not to speak!" Kate

snapped. Bill waked beside her to the door in

silence.

"Well!" Kate growled as she turned her key in

the lock.

"Well, what?" Bill asked uncomprehendingly.

"After your disgusting behavior tonight, do

you think you can just dump me on my door stoop

like a sack of potatoes? Get your sorry ass in

here. I want to get fucked!"

It was Zen, Kate later reflected dreamily as

she drifted down from a third orgasm and snuggled

closer to her now sleeping partner. Once she

stopped searching, the meaning became crystal

clear. Bill had his huge part`n'er and damned if

it didn't feel good!

*****

The next few weeks saw a general relaxation

of discipline around NAG headquarters. The

President, frankly, was not setting a good

example, often ducking out on Thursday afternoons

for a long weekend with her new silver-haired beau

and sometimes not straggling back until noon on

Monday.

Fortunately, Kate had loyal staff that

stepped into the breech. NAG's head of Security,

La Toya Ruston, put the fear of god into the

unruly young men in their fancy cars who were

causing havoc, queuing up for their dates every

afternoon. Olivia Fuentes in Research tried to

keep up a semblance of a media program. Victoria

Chung of Personnel relentlessly docked the pay of

girls who couldn't wait until quitting time to get

started on their evening trysts.

One would have expected Milly to help hold

the fort, but Milly was facing one of life's big

decisions. A little queasiness one morning

brought something to mind she had not thought

about for a while. She had been having such a

great time these last four months, but she

realized that since visiting the Clinic, she had

been forgetting to re-fill her prescription for

contraceptives. With the exception of Wentworth

who was always responsible, she hadn't had much

protection. When she got going with Carlos or

Albert or especially with Horse, she just didn't

have the heart to insist that they stop to put on

a condom and she sure as hell didn't spoil the

moment by making them pull out before they came.

Olivia would have made a more exact calculation.

Milly's was rough. Let's see ... three men,

twice a week each for four months, average, say,

four times a night times maybe three oz. per come

... Hum. About two gallons of semen by her

reckoning. Yep, she was probably pregnant.

Waiting until the baby was born was not the

best way to assign paternity; it weakened her

bargaining position. The decision was too serious

for "enney, menney minney moh." A more objective

method was required and the answer was pretty

obvious. Wentworth had even more money than horse

and was a lot more malleable. Of course Milly

expected his lawyers to try to push him into a

stingy pre-nuptial agreement, but she and Wenny

would pay a visit to Dr. Bock to talk about the

baby and she was sure Amaka could give her fiancee

enough backbone to stand up to a few lawyers.

Besides, Wentworth would need Amaka's help to

"remember" that night he had begged Milly not to

make him use a condom and not to wonder why their

baby was a lot darker than either he or Milly.

Horse, Carlos and Albert were not too happy

when Milly informed them she would not be able to

see them quite so frequently once she was married.

They were mollified, however, when she promised to

introduce them to some of her friends. The ones

she had in mind were taking work far too

seriously, anyway, and needed a little more fun in

their lives. Milly scheduled appointments with

Dr. Bock for Olivia, Victoria, and La Toya.

*****

The group wedding of Kate and three NAG

officers was the socio-political event of the

season. Angelica Lopez headlined the "Style"

spread "They're All `New Feminists' Now." The

photo caption said it all, "...from left to right

the party comprised Mr. Charles, "Horse" Jones

and his bride, Victoria Chung Jones; Mr. Carlos

Valdez and bride La Toya Ruston Valdez; Mr.

Albert Wu and bride Olivia Fuentes Wu; and Mr.

William Jenkins, President of NARM and bride

Catherine Harridan Jenkins, President of NAG.

Accompanying the party were Mr. Wentworth Stokes

and wife Mildred Stokes with infant; and Dr.

James Bock of the Board of Directors of NARM and

companion, Ms. Amaka Ebe"

The touching photograph showed a delicate

Victoria with her dark, straight hair and almond

eyes smiling blissfully as the huge basketball

player looked down on her in adoration. Heaven

help the man who so much as *looked* the wrong way

at his darling Vickie. No bantam rooster could

have been more proud than Carlos at the side of

the broadly grinning black woman who may have

doubled his weight. Olivia and Albert were

oblivious to the camera, lost in each others eyes.

Kate in her surprisingly short bridal gown beamed

as Bill held her around the waist like a prized

possession. It was only a fluke of the camera

angle that enabled a close observer of each

bride's belly to note that someone had jumped the

gun by serveal months on starting a family.

The photographer had not thought it seemly

for a family newspaper to include the adjacent

tableau of considerable human interest. In it, a

thin fiery redhead stood grinning, very proud and

very pregnant, in the middle of the other four

Wizards starters who were looking quizzically at

each other.

The End

Comments, please, to:

Homer Vargas

the_story_writer@yahoo.com

I wish to acknowledge inspiration from "Downing

Street" and someone else who does not wish to be

acknowledged without blaming them for the

execution. I also wish to thank "Gary Grant," who

ought to be writing himself, and who will

recognize his input.

___________________________________________________

It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex

with strangers. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unpro-

tected sex with strangers!! You only have one body

per lifetime, so take good care of it.