Chapter 5

It started at the 10th reunion of the Jefferson High class of ‘64. Jefferson, Indiana was where June’s second cousin Winifred had settled with her husband Hans Mueller. Barry was Winifred’s son, and so June’s second cousin once removed.

Barry found Lee. After catching up what they’d been up to the past ten years, Barry said, “What about this new disease, eh? BFT? Any of the women in your family have the problem?”

“Nope, none of mine. But there was this kid around the corner, Jessie. She’s like 10 years younger than me, and I always thought she was just a nice little girl. But wouldn’t you know it, I get a call asking if I’d be willing to fuck her. For her health, you know. My first reaction was “no way” because I was picturing her the last time I saw her, which was at age 12 or whatever. But she wasn’t 12 any more. She was 17. Her mom brought over a picture of her in a bathing suit -- and wow. So I went right over and it’s kind of awkward, you know, to just fuck a nice girl without a date or anything. But it’s really pretty simple, when a girl just wants to get fucked with no strings attached. Right up her pussy, and two minutes later I unloaded. Man, was that great!”

“Sounds ... interesting.”

“The thing is she had BFT and she’d already had two different guys do it to her, but neither of them solved her problem. So they tried me, but I couldn’t solve it either. I mean, I gave her a nice load of high-octane sperm, but sometimes a girl just needs a particular kind or something. So I know they were getting all anxious trying to find someone.”

“We should form a group. The ‘class of ‘62 fuckers’. We’ll have a motel room or something. Send your girl over and ten of us will fuck her until one does the job.” Barry laughed, but Lee didn’t.

“Why is that a joke? That’s a great idea ... I mean, it would do the job, right? We could make an assembly line out of it. One of us gives her a load, and if she doesn’t get better the next one does it. Gang bang for your health.”

As the evening went on, Barry and Lee found their old friends and asked if they wanted in. Their friends found their friends. A remarkable number were interested. At first they thought it would just be single guys, but some of the married ones were interested too.

Lee had inherited his parents’ big, rambling house, and they set up shop there. They picked the tasteful-sounding name, “Jefferson BFT Treatment Group”. They put an ad in the paper, and the phones were ringing off the hook. The men knew how to do the fucking part, naturally. But there was the emotional part around it. They got advice from various women about how best to go about it. Teen girls -- and especially virgins -- tended to be the most sensitive.

They made some rules. Always get a picture of the girl or woman in a bathing suit first. Only go in to a girl if you’re sure you can get it up, get it in, and spurt it out. And not just “manage it” but really want it. The science showed that if a guy didn’t really want it, it usually didn’t work. Never say anything about the girl’s appearance other than saying she’s sexy if you truly think she is.

A few of the guys who were more sensitive and emotionally attuned would be the first to take on girls who had never done it before, prepared for just about any reaction. The girl might freeze up, or cry, or refuse. So that would be a disappointment, but when it worked it was extra special to take a girl’s virginity. No worrying about making it sexually satisfying for the girl. The job was to fuck hard, fuck enthusiastically, and deliver the liquid goods.

There were rules for the female visitors, too. Glance at a picture of the guy before he comes in, and don’t accept ones who are just too ugly -- or who remind you of your father, maybe. No incredibly tight pussies. Make sure a dildo of the right size fits in OK. Get aroused or lube up before arrival so a dick will go in OK. When some girl hadn’t followed that rule and were tight or dry, a lot of the guys just did it anyway unless the girl told them to stop. A little tears, a little wincing. A chance to fuck was just really appealing, even if it made their dick a bit sore.

There were dark rooms. Some of the girls and women didn’t want anyone seeing anything. One common reason was if they were fat or ugly. Doing it in the dark was typically less effective, but it worked a fair amount of the time.

Some girls wanted their mothers there. Some lesbians wanted their partner. Most guys weren’t deterred by another person in the room, but the few who were made sure not to get into those situations.

If a guy succeeded in treating a girl, then she got his number so she could call him up in a few months or whenever in the likely event she needed a repeat treatment.

Then there were the problem cases. There’s a broad spectrum of disability reaching from totally normal to comatose. There are physical disabilities, and there are intellectual disabilities. There are also emotional disabilities. At the comatose extreme, the girls needed treatment too. Quite a few guys didn’t want to do an unresponsive girl, but a fair number thought a pussy was a pussy if it was hot and wet.

Even for girls who weren’t very responsive, they could usually tell when a treatment worked because the girl would relax. The scientists had devised a way to tell for sure if the treatment had worked if BFT was at all serious, and a couple guys learned how to do that test.

Dr. Wayne was a member of the class of ‘62 who happened to be a doctor, and an anesthesiologist, no less. Some cases worked best with general anesthesia. More commonly ether was enough. The ether mostly made them dopey and silly. For them, one advantage was that they wouldn’t have any memories of what happened -- maybe just a sore pussy if it had taken twenty loads delivered by twenty different dicks to do the job. But they would not retain the memory of twenty guys mounting, grunting, thrusting, and dumping cum in them.

Some were still upset and cried as they got fucked, but the ether at least made their reactions muted and they didn’t struggle. Some of the guys naturally didn’t like doing girls who were crying, but plenty of them were up for it. Deep down most men want to fuck first and ask questions later.

It was satisfying any time they could treat a girl successfully. But it was especially satisfying if she had been in notable distress for whatever reason.

They tried to have twenty guys on hand during the weekdays, and forty on weekend days.

At one level, they were being good Samaritans, providing a vital service. At another level, they were a bunch of guys getting a whole lot of sex. And they naturally shared their experiences, often in ribald terms. Among themselves, they called the women and girls NFEs -- “not fucked enough”. Because that was their situation. If they had BFT, it was because they hadn’t been fucked by enough different guys. Jefferson BFT would keep offering them new guys to fuck them, until they had been fucked enough. The group found themselves taking on more and more men to meet the demand.

CDC REPORT

It has been determined that BFT is caused by a virus or class of viruses, but it mutates in a manner never before encountered, and no anti-viral method so far identified by science has been known to have any effect.

As a life-saving measure, all females who have the syndrome who are not fully competent legally must undergo treatment. This includes incompetence due to mental, physical, emotional, or age limitation.

Any adult woman judged competent may refuse all offers of sexual intercourse, even though this decision is likely to ultimately result in her death.

Because of the severity of BFT, the government has encouraged as a public health measure the creation of centers where a great many men are available to have intercourse with visiting women, in the hopes that at least one pairing will cause remission.

It is a well-known fact of male physiology that volume of ejaculate decreases markedly as the time between ejaculations becomes shorter. However, chances of a successful BFT treatment do not correlate with the length of the interval. If the man ejaculates in the vagina, a successful treatment is just as likely if he last climaxed a few minutes before as if the last time was days or months earlier. The volume of ejaculate is not relevant. However, if his enthusiasm for the act wanes due to recent sexual activity, that does make him less likely to be effective.

Male enthusiasm for the act is a prerequisite for a successful BFT treatment. Since men have varying sexual tastes, it is naturally best if treatment centers distinguish different types of women and assign to them men who are attracted to that type of woman.

Gay men have rarely been able to bring about a remission. But men who are more attracted to heavy women are best matched with heavy women, and similarly for light, small, tall, etc. All regulations or laws prohibiting discrimination have been suspended for this situation. Any man or woman can decline intercourse with a particular partner for any reason. But centers are allowed and encouraged to also sort women by race, physical or mental disability, or anything else that correlates with male ability to enthusiastically complete the act, in hopes of increasing the chances of finding men who will be able to treat such women. For various reasons some women who need treatment are partially or fully sedated.

When it appears difficult to find a man who is enthusiastic about intercourse with a woman, centers can try hosting the matings in completely dark rooms. This does however appear to significantly lower the rate of successful treatment.

Stacy was in a lot of pain. Itching, burning, shooting pains. Her second bout of BFT. She really, really needed some guy to treat her. She had let three of her acquaintances have a go at her. She had a friendly understanding with them, and in the past the third one had been able to do the job. But not this time.

So she had come to the Jefferson BFT group. The first three guys had been OK They got right to business and fucked her, coming in her pussy within a minute. But the fourth guy had leered at her, and she had to close her eyes. He shot his load too -- to no avail.

She had a button to push to keep guys from coming in, if she wanted a break for any reason. After that leer, she had decided to get up into doggy position. It was more impersonal, and she wouldn’t have to look at the guys, and in some ways it was the more natural position. So the next men came. A thick dick, the guy murmuring his pleasure, and then a load up her pussy. A little dick, but long enough to get in and do the job. After he pulled out she used the button to light up a “do not enter” sign in the next room. That interrupted the flow of guys long enough that she could followed procedure and briefly stick a light-duty tampon up inside so the “sloppy seconds” phenomenon would be under control. Then she pushed the button to indicate she was ready for the next dick.

An average cock ... She didn’t care what size or shape they were. If they came inside her that was kind of giving her a lottery ticket, so she appreciated it. This whole experience had made her appreciate how much her boyfriends from the good old days were holding back for her sake. When a young guy in the prime of life had as his goal to use her as a cum dump, he could typically do it in seconds.

Here was a long, skinny one. He got in enough to poke her cervix, which was kind of fun in normal times when things were fun. Thrusts faster, deeper -- she was getting to be a pretty good judge of when a guy would shoot his wad. Any second now ... there he went. He didn’t pull out instantly. But what was this? Something was missing. What was missing? The burning! The itching! The shooting pains! She turned around, eyes wide, and beheld an ordinary-looking guy with glasses. Then she hugged him and held him tightly and murmured, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The guy was surprised and unsure what to do. But she didn’t need him to do anything, and she pulled away before too long. She got his contact info in the hopes that the next time her malady started, he would be able to relieve her suffering, hopefully before the pain got too bad and without her having to have lots of partners. His name was Brian. Stacy put on a robe and took a long shower before getting dressed and going home.

But Stacy called Brian up a week later and said she’d do anything he wanted in bed -- anything at all. He assured her he would try to treat her next time around in any event and it wasn’t necessary, but she said she would actively like it herself, and he did finally accept. So Stacy gave him a long, slow blow job while he moaned and stared at the ceiling. Then she got into doggy position again and he went at her from behind. He took his time, having no guys behind him waiting in line. But Stacy was content to let him have his pleasure. Doggy style felt kind of good if you thought of yourself like an animal. When he finally did surge deep, and bumped her cervix with his long cock while he came inside her, she felt a little shudder as her body remembered the immense relief the last time he had done that. Making the pain stop when it had gotten really bad was better than the most fabulous orgasm.

Roger looked around the waiting room at the other guys. A couple looked a bit “off” -- as if they weren’t playing with a full deck, or were “on the spectrum”. One guy looked up at him and quickly looked away. That reaction was normal enough under the circumstances. Society looked down on men like him, and they themselves rarely met others like them.

One by one the men disappeared into the next vacant “ready room”. The pattern was that a guy went into A, then a guy went into B, then maybe someone went into C as well. Then the guy from A emerged again. Sometimes they had a smile, sometimes they looked worried, sometimes their expression was impassive. The guy from C might emerge before the guy from B. It was variable.

Roger went into room B, stripped, and fondled his cock, while looking idly at Playboy centerfold pictures on the wall. He had already seen pictures of the woman on the other side of the door, and she would not look like this. This set of rooms on this day was set up for women who most definitely did not look like Playboy centerfolds. Then the light went on over the other door and he went into the mating room.

Pictures could only capture so much. The woman was naked and also unconscious. Maybe it was general anesthesia or maybe she was always unconscious. Roger could see at once from her face that something wasn’t quite right with her. It didn’t look like Down Syndrome, however. But that wasn’t the only “unusual characteristic.” She was also missing most of her left leg.

Lots of guys were repulsed by an unconscious mate. Others would be turned off by the missing leg, and some by the combination. Others might be turned on enough to penetrate and inseminate, but wouldn’t be sufficiently enthusiastic for it to work.

But for Roger, it was heaven. A woman who was out cold made him shiver with delight. Missing a leg was a bonus. There was her pussy. He felt a momentary wave of shame that he would be attracted to exactly the things that would turn others off, but he brushed it aside. He mounted, grinning with anticipation. As he applied gentle pressure, her pussy lips slid apart seductively, and he sensed a 100% functional pussy -- the female organ tuned precisely to welcome a penis and encourage it to ejaculate. It felt just right as his cock slid in. She was plenty slick. Everything about her turned him on, and he began fucking away with a frenzy. He held himself back to make the moment last. It was so rare to get a partner that was such a good match for him. His deep thrusts made her jiggle on the bed. But he also wanted to finish. His reflexes took over, and he shot his load of cum up into her pussy.