Second Chance
Chapter 24

SECOND CHANCE is copyright protected. Any use, including reprints, without specific written permission is forbidden and illegal

DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story: Chapter 24 - 43 year old Carl watched helplessly as Death came for him in the form of an overloaded produce truck. Suddenly he found himself in the body of a 14 year old boy, injured in the same accident. Now Carl had to learn how to live as Brian and cope with a new life and a loving mother.

Caution: This DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Consensual   Science Fiction   DoOver   Incest   Mother   Son   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting  

Having four women in my life left little room for thoughts of dalliances, but Shirley Thornton had a certain something that called out to me, and I caught myself thinking about the way she looked at me when I handed Casey over to her grandfather. That look held a lot of promises, and every one of them seemed to lead straight to bed. I did have some little experience to guide my observations...

The fantasies of Shirley and me were a needed distraction as my life entered a quiet, somewhat boring phase. With the Cutler thing settled, other departments dismantled that conspiracy. I was left out and not in on anything, briefed on progress, nor consulted about it in any way while lots of people were put behind bars.

Russia had diminished in importance, and Putin was so busy attempting to hold onto power that he did not have time to trouble America. The gold we bought was safely stored and would come in handy if a time of hyperinflation overwhelmed the world economies.

Our compound in Branson was tricked out as a safe house, should the wheels come off and we enter a time of anarchy. The food supply would last between forty and fifty years, as would our underground fresh water supplies that were fed by the deep aquifers. There was little doubt that the world would enter a new great depression, but no one could accurately predict when, so Jim, Colleen, Rebecca, and I set out to make sure our new home was a virtual fortress.

We ensured that the underground bunkers would protect us for two generations, should there be a nuclear exchange, and surface living should become untenable. In addition, we took precautions to make these efforts looked like a wealthy nutcase's feathered nest, so our refuge would not become the target of mobs seeking safety. We could accommodate some extra folks, but not the whole Branson area.

My daily briefings about all the terrible things going on in the world, very definitely had me wondering how nations held it all together. I saw how delicate the balance power was throughout the world and how easy it would be to knock it to pieces and cause worldwide calamity. The fact that we motored along without a daily battle of Armageddon was as surprising as it was welcome.

The occasional king or president died, taking me away somewhere to represent America at the funeral, and I began to attend coronations, investitures, and inaugurations to show the flag and make our presence more obvious on the world stage.

Those trips began to pay off almost immediately, as the newly empowered leaders, almost always sought me out to discuss potential trade deals, cooperative manufacturing, or other mutually beneficial activities. We needed to reverse our trade deficits, and making friends with the people in charge was the fastest way I knew to effect the changes needed to do it.

It was on one of those trips that the brother-in-law of a newly elected head of a very third world nation approached me. "Mr. Vice President, I am Mbaekwe Okpara of Somalia. You know my sister's husband, the new prime minister of this great country. I was honored to be a guest of your country on the day when your President Thornton gave the great speech, Let Freedom Ring." Your President is a very smart man, and his smartness leads him to naturally do great things, because great men do great things. It is in your bloodlines, Sir.

"Sir, my brother-in-law was given my sister in marriage by our father, in hopes bring ... better times to our people in Somalia. Things at home are very bad ... Very bad. The tribal rulers are truly despots, who kill for the love of killing, and use murder, rape, and torture the way you Americans use public service announcements on your televisions.

"It is very past time that Somalia be returned to the people, who suffer as much as those in Nigeria. We have no central force that can pull the people together, and no good current leadership that would if they were able.

"Mr. Vice President, the anarchy that plagues Somalia is quite profitable for those that hold us under their bloody thumbs, and they see no reason to change a thing. As it so happens, Mr. Vice President, we have a chance to put down the men whose actions have decimated our country, but we lack funds, expertise, and leadership.

"We need a friend, Sir. We need someone to lead us, organize us, inspire us, and give Somalis a chance to live freedom's ring like you Americans do.

"Are you able to advise us, Sir? Can you give us directions, inspiration, leadership, and show us how Americans win freedom, so that we can fight and win for the same thing?"

We talked for some time, and I had to apologize to my host for failing to circulate more, but Mbaekwe Okpara of Somalia showed me another purpose for living in John Gray's body. Somalia, the country that spawned the pirates that attacked us on Nauru, needed someone to organize the removal of the warlords, psychotic rapists, and killing and torturing filth that covered Somalia in the blood of innocents.

I had my mission and billions of dollars to put to use to see it through.

Rick was in Africa with me, and we locked ourselves in the conference room of Air Force Two and plotted all the way home. The multi-media capability on-board was second to none, and we had access to everything the CIA, Joint chiefs, and Secretary of Defense used to keep themselves informed about world events in real time. Before we reached cruising altitude, Rick had an array of pages open on the giant screen, using our laptops and both desktop servers to funnel information on population, annual income, a comprehensive breakdown of the warlords, their affiliations, and who held what parts of the country.

The real bad boys were Al-Shabaab Islamic militants that merged with al-Qaeda. They are referred to as the 'mosquito militants, ' because they buzz around and strike without warning, just like mosquitoes, and continuously run a coordinated terror network throughout large parts of Somalia. The good guys were the one hundred and forty nine members of Alliance for the Re-Liberation of Somalia, which, more or less, represents a majority Somalia's Parliament. Any long-term solution included rooting out the al-Qaeda lunatics, and taking out their local leadership, while simultaneously working to strengthen Somalia's Parliament.

 
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