Weakness

by Bobster

Copyright© 2019 by Bobster

Erotica Sex Story: Men start being affected by a widespread physical weakness. As bad as it seems to be for me, I manage to get through it with the help of a mother and her daughter.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   First   Oral Sex   .

Characters
Neil Brower - Narrator
Charlene (Charli) Hatteras - Neighbor, Friend, Lover
Patty Hatteras - Charli’s Daughter

I was one of the lucky ones. I caught The Weakness early, before it had mutated into the stronger strain. They labeled this stronger strain W2. It was devastating. The men who contracted it were so weak that they couldn’t walk or even stand up. Millions, or maybe billions, of men, all over the world, died from starvation or from lack of care if they were already ill with some other illness.

It, “The Weakness” was no respecter of wealth, ethnicity, religious affiliation, education or profession. Rich white Harvard educated doctors got it, as did illiterate black (or Asian or Indian) homeless men.

I was a freelance science writer with a substantial clientele. I got assignments from all over the world, but most of my work was in the US. I knew that something was up when I got three emails from three of my regular clients within an hour. All with the same subject, “What’s making men lose their body strength?” or words to that effect. I had been hearing newscasts about “Male Wasting Disease” for about a week now but I was busy wrapping up another assignment and shoved it to the back of my mind. I finished my assignment (“How Vulnerable is the Power Grid to Foreign Hacking?” Answer: Very!). Then I turned to “Why are men getting weak?”

Over a 24-hour period, men got physically weaker. The progression stabilized after about 24 hours.

As I investigated it, I became worried. Would I “catch” it? As I continued my investigation, I started wearing a facemask. I had no idea if it would protect me, but figured it couldn’t hurt. Maybe I was right. I woke one morning with a feeling of great lassitude. I was tired. When I climbed out of bed, I nearly collapsed. I grabbed the corner of the bed. I was able to, unsteadily, remain upright. I made it across the room, down the hall and into the kitchen; I put a pod into the Keurig coffeemaker and pressed the handle down. This took a serious effort, but I managed. I pressed the “brew” button and sank into a chair while the coffee brewed. After it was complete, I grabbed the cup and lifted it to my mouth. Again, this was normally a trivial task. It took a concentrated effort, but again, I managed. Toast followed. Getting the bread out of the breadbox, putting it into the toaster and (Ugh!) pressing the handle down left me exhausted.

However, by the time the toast popped up, I had recovered. Hmmm.

As a science writer, I fancied myself something of a scientist. “What do I know about what’s going on?” I asked myself. The known facts were (1) It only affected human males. (2) Earliest onset was around age ten to twelve, though there were some as late as age fifteen or eighteen. (3) The symptom was simple: Men got weaker physically. Their large, voluntary muscles became weak. It appeared that there was no effect on the involuntary muscled (i.e. heart, breathing, eye movement, etc. (4) There seemed to be no direct link to puberty, although the age of onset was noted. (5) There was no problem with a fever, stomach upset, hearing or vision. The mind seemed unaffected except the disease brought on depression. (6) CT scans and MRIs showed nothing. (7) In the bulk of the cases, the men were unable to get an erection. Happily, I am an exception. (8) Some men who had been overly aggressive were affected the most with the W2 version... (9) The severity varied from mild to severe. “Mild” cases were still debilitating, but the sufferers were able to get around and, to a limited extent, care for themselves.

About my situation, I came up with the following list: First, it is obvious that I “caught” it. Second, my case didn’t seem as serious as many of the other cases I’d heard about. Third, although I got tired very rapidly, I recovered rapidly as well. Forth, I was hungry, much more so than usual. My usual breakfast was coffee and toast, with maybe a banana or a little fruit “on the side.” I could tell that this wouldn’t cut. Eventually, I graduated to a “Full English” breakfast, consisting of fried eggs, sausage, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, coffee and hot buttered toast.

Finally, unlike the majority of the affected men, I was sporting a gigantic erection, for no special reason I could think of.

While I was thinking about it, I moved over to the pantry and got a can of soup. Tomato, if you care. There was a problem when I tried to open the can. I couldn’t turn the handle of the manual can opener. Looking in the Junk Drawer, I spotted a piece of 1/4 inch dowel rod almost a foot long. Putting the dowel rod through a hole in the handle, I used the leverage to turn it. I didn’t mess with a cooking pot but poured the soup into a ceramic bowel, added water and punched the microwave on. Two minutes later, I was burning my mouth on the hot soup.

I punched in the number of my neighbor Charli (for Charlene) Hatteras. Using the speakerphone button, I called her. “Hey, Charli, Neil here. It looks as though I have ‘The Weakness.’ I don’t think my case is as severe as many others’. I seem to be able to get around ok, if slowly, but I could sure use some help with some ordinary tasks.” Silence. “What tasks?” “Well, getting dressed, for one. I sleep...” “I know how you sleep, Neil. That’s why I’m hesitating. I can’t come over now. I’m due to take off for Paris tomorrow and I’ll need the rest of the day to get packed.

However, Patty is here and, she’d love to put clothes on your naked body. Or take them off, as you know.” I knew all too well!

When I moved into my apartment at the age of 17, I was furiously working on my Masters in physics and making a good living writing instruction manuals for foreign technical equipment. A very good living indeed. I’d get an unintelligible collection of papers in English that was the result of a literal translation of the foreign language. Then I’d hammer it into a format that could be understood by a normal English-speaking consumer. It frequently required telephone conversations with the foreign engineers. Several times I had to travel to the manufacturer’s overseas facility and assemble several engineering and sales people in a conference room so that I could get an idea as to what the damn thing was supposed to do and how to make it do it. I worked fast and my finished “product” was happily received by the customer. I did good work. I got a reputation. My fees went up. I got commissions to popularize esoteric science for the general public. You’ve almost certainly read some of my stuff. I dropped out of school. I was a 19-year-old virgin, living in a small but comfortable apartment. I was earning fistfuls of money. I rarely went out and didn’t date. What sexual urges I had, I was able to deal with “handily.”

When I was 19, Charli moved into the apartment next to mine to be closer to the university. Passing each other in the hall, we became nodding acquaintances. Occasionally, we’d have coffee together in the Starbucks next door. Not “dates.” We’d just happen to be there at the same time and sit at the same table. I’m not blind. I knew she was attractive. Beautiful, even, but the age difference was a barrier to our getting more intimate. Charli was 35 and I was 19.

Despite this, we became good friends. Eventually we traded biographies.

My biography is simple. Both of my parents are still alive. They loved and supported me, albeit in a detached, almost disinterested way. As a result, I learned to fend for myself early on. Once when I was ten, I was involved in a serious accident. A year later, I caught some nasty bug that hospitalized me for several weeks. In both cases, my parents “gathered ‘round” me both at the hospital and, later, at home, making sure I had everything needed to get better.

After the danger passed, they went back to their own pursuits. I was happy with this state of affairs. I had almost total freedom when I wanted. I loved school and science in particular and devoted most of my time to academic pursuits. I swam a lot. Lake Erie was just a block from my house so when I got tired of the books, I’d run down to the beach for some water.

One day I struck up a friendship with Carl, a neighbor at the beach. He was a couple of years older than I was, but we got along well. He wanted to be a karate champion. He enlisted me as a sparring partner. To avoid constantly being bruised, I was forced to learn some of the basic defensive moves. Carl was nearly a black belt. (I guess I was a transparent belt or something like that.) We practiced off and on for about a year. Carl’s parents moved to the west coast and my karate lessons ended. I never got good at it, but I developed the ability to move gracefully and with assurance. Most of my contemporaries were at that clumsy, awkward teenage stage, but somehow, I breezed past it with only a few pimples.

I’m smart. I zoomed through high school, graduating at the age of 14. The bullies tried me out a couple of times but got nothing for their pains ... except pain. I guess you could say I led a charmed life.

Charli’s life wasn’t nearly as pleasant as mine. She grew up in a small town in downstate Ohio. At the age of 16, she had a one-night fling with Damen (Somebody). Damen took her virginity but left her with a present. When she discovered she was pregnant, Damen had moved on. She never saw him again. Mother had died and her father was a super-righteous religious fundamentalist. So of course, he threw her out. After a couple of months staying with some of her girlfriends, she moved north and found a job in an appliance store selling those “new-fangled computers.” It turned out that she had a knack for explaining the technology and she sold a lot of computers and made a decent living. She moved into a cheap apartment. She had dropped out of High School but quickly got her GED. A bus trip to downtown and night classes at Fenn College followed. Later, she moved into my apartment building to be closer to Patty’s school and the university.

Patty was the result of that one night-stand.

Charli was angry with Damen and her father and, by extension, all men for a while afterwards. All of this happened while I was still in diapers.

I greatly admired her ambition, intelligence and determination. She was finishing up her masters in computer science, raising her daughter as a single mother and trying to keep her head above water financially. Sometimes, late at night, I’d hear her crying. I didn’t know why and I had no idea what I could do to help. Finally, I asked her about it. What was the trouble and could I do anything to help? Babysit, perhaps to give her a little time to herself?

That got a laugh. “Patty is only a year younger than you. I don’t think it would work.” Probably not. I was starting to get horny lately. Charli was the object of my fantasies, but Patty was awfully cute too.

As the months passed, we drifted closer together. We actually had a couple of dates. After a while, I occasionally found myself in her bed or her in mine. We didn’t “love” each other but we sure “liked” each other. Neither of us had a steady girlfriend/boyfriend. We both dated others but we two had a special connection.

We had an ‘arrangement.’ When a ‘dry spell’ went on for too long, we’d get together for a night of fun. I liked her a lot and she liked me. We tried living together. I moved into her apartment for about a month. At the end of the month, we agreed that it wasn’t working and I moved back to my apartment. Neither of us was comfortable with another person on a day-to-day basis. Part of it might have been the age difference. Charli was an incredibly beautiful woman of 39. I was an ordinary, not too ugly guy of 23. I’m intelligent and active. I don’t play any sports but I’m always on the go. Charli is more intelligent than I am but she is also more passive. She designs special purpose operating systems for personal computers and is ‘always on’ at work. At home, she liked to kick back, relax and nurse a glass of wine for several hours before turning in. She never married and is happy with the single life.

When I called to ask for help and she couldn’t come over, she sent Patty. Patty, like her mother, was a genius. Patty, like her mother was beautiful with the additional glow of youth about her. Patty dated a little, but mostly attended the university. She was of legal age but insisted that she would never “give it up” (her virginity, that is) until she married or found the perfect man. She said I was that man, but I knew different.

I can “sparkle” when I’m interviewing someone. That “sparkle” includes flirting, occasional off-color quips and the like. On several occasions, this has led to a date followed by some time in bed. I’m not exactly anti-social, but neither am I a gregarious ‘Party-Hearty’ guy. Crowds and large parties make me nervous and I retreat into a corner. I stay there till it’s time to go.

Charli’s OS designing got her an “Assistantship” in the Engineering department. Because of my continual research for my ‘pop-science’ pieces, I guess I was ‘honorary faculty.’ This was especially good for me, as I pretty much had the run of the place, going anywhere and talking with anyone.

Recently, about a week before I ‘got’ the Weakness, Charli, Patty and I were at a faculty dance party. I wandered away and sat at the edge of the action, just looking. Male faculty were encouraged to wear a suit and tie and the women to wear dresses. I was enjoying the women and their swirling colors amid the stolid greyness of the men.

Patty came by and asked me to dance. I was happy just sitting and watching so at first I demurred, but she would have none of that and dragged me onto the dance floor. Before long, she was pressing her body tightly against me. While rubbing, against me whispered in my ear, “I’d give it up for you Neil. I want to give it up to you. I’m so horny for you I can’t hardly stand it. What do you say”?

“What I say, Patty is that I’m dating your mother and I don’t think she’d appreciate it if I were to go off with you.” “Aw, come on Neil. She won’t mind.” She rubbed her crotch up and down against my now super-hard cock. Her breath got faster and she clung to me like a coat of paint. “Well, maybe you’re right Patty. But ‘till I hear it from her, I gotta say ‘no.’”

“Aren’t you interested? Yes you are. I can feel it.” She snaked her arm down between us and rubbed my bulge. “Sweetie, I’d love to fuck your brains out. You’re beautiful, sexy, smart and funny.” I thought that my crudeness would put her off. It didn’t. If anything, she heated up more. She pressed her crotch against mine, spread her legs a little and rubbed pussy against my erect cock. (Of course, I was hard! Who wouldn’t be?)

She danced us across the floor to where her mother was sitting. Charli was in conversation with Charles Skeezix. “Ski” was renowned as a pussy hound. Any woman, anywhere, anytime. He was always ready and in there pitching. Presently, he was bent close to Charli, talking softly. His hands were all over her, patting her arm, stroking her back, squeezing her shoulders. Hs mouth was right at her ear as he whispered something. Something salacious, I was sure. He slid one hand up her side, stopping just short of passing over her breast.

Charli was nodding her head and smiling. I thought she was enjoying the attention. Wrong! When she spotted Patty and me, she abruptly leaned back and stood up. The relief in her eyes was almost comical. “Here you guys are,” she said. “I was afraid you’d gotten lost. Ready to go?” “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s make like a tree and leave, OK?” Super corny, I know, but that’s typical of me. Corny.

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