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Examination Of A Nag

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
dr*ped 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

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

"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 ther*peutic." 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

The nurse came back with some sort of bottle. "This is a
ther*peutic 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

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

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

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

“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.

End of Story

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