Comrade Con Christmas

You've seen those adverts offering the chance to discover your ancestry by providing a DNA sample for analysis. By the time you've filled in your details, they've upsold you with a load of extras you don't need. The kit comes through the post next week. You do the test, post it back, and a month later you get the results and discover you are 0.004% related to someone in Papua, New Guinea. Then a week after, you receive an email from a long-lost relative, a Nigerian prince (who knew), who needs your help to save the family fortune from corrupt officials. 'Just give me your bank details and we can hide it there. I trust you cousin.' Or worse still, I've heard of guys getting claims for maintenance from an unknown brood of children who appeared out of the woodwork, because the guy's results have been added to the test company database. It's no wonder I'd given the whole business a miss.

But last year, I stumbled across the Russian website, `Who's your Daddy, offering instant on-screen analysis of your DNA sample for the Christmas special price of $5 with no complicated form filling. It sounded like a great deal so I thought I would treat myself. I filled in my credit card details and was quickly transferred into an online chat session with Dr Ivana Tugwanoff, a genetic scientist with the Moshennichestvo Institute in Moscow. (It all seemed so legit, but sadly I've since discovered moshennichestvo is the Russian word for fraud.)

Dr Ivana was blonde, attractive and in her late twenties. She sat behind a desk wearing a white lab coat and serious black framed glasses. Her hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense pony tail, although she wore fire engine red lipstick and matching nail polish, which I thought was a bit risqué for a serious research establishment. She explained they could offer such a competitive service because they were using patented technology developed for the Russian space program search for life on other planets. Their method allowed them to remotely analyze a DNA sample placed on the computer screen. I was amazed, but she reminded me Russia were the first nation to send a man into space, and you can't argue with that, can you?

She pressed a button on her keyboard and a hashed box appeared on my screen. That was the sample area. Dr Ivana told me to lick my finger and slide it on the box. I did this, then a white bar appeared across the top of the screen and moved down to the bottom. This was the scanner that would read my sample.

Unfortunately, it did not work the first time or the five times afterwards. Ivana was very disappointed and offered me my money back. Then she had a bright idea and asked if I wanted a free go on their new service that was going through beta testing. She leaned toward the screen to confide she was not supposed to offer it to customers without her supervisors clearance. I was distracted by her cleavage so she had to repeat how the service worked. She said they got 100% accurate results from a sperm sample.

I was shocked and said I could not do that and Ivana sighed sadly. I asked what was wrong and she said they took refunds out of staff wages. I was angry, poor Ivana. I changed my mind and said I would give it a try, but I would have to be careful. The library was almost empty, just a couple of drunks sleeping it off, but it was still a public place after all. I said given my location I might have difficulty producing a sample. Ivana said she would help.

Ivana came around to the front of her desk and unbuttoned her white lab coat. Underneath she just wore sexy black underwear. She explained the lab was so warm it was impossible to work with a dress on. You don't realise the working conditions some people put up with, do you? There are countries who have never heard of health and safety legislation.

Things started to stir when Ivana removed her bra. She had fantastic tits for a research scientist and from the clever way she shook them, I suspected she'd helped other customers give a sample. I was keen to provide my own deposit but I had to wait for the old bloke doing research on fallen women in the nineteenth century to shuffle off to the microfiche reader to read contact ads from Victorian editions of The Times newspaper. (The perverts you get in a public library!)

By this time Ivana had remover her skimpy knickers and was leaning back on her desk just wearing black hold up stockings and matching high heels. I whipped my old man out and Ivana complimented me on its length and girth and suggested we might meet up when she attended a genetics symposium in London later in the year. I said I'd tell my wife I was going fishing that day. She asked if I was ready and grabbed her heels and opened her legs, parting the lips of her delightfully shaved pussy. I said she could be a gymnast as well as a research scientist and she laughed. She told me to take aim then the cross hairs of a sniper scope floated across the screen. Ivana said to wait until the sight settled. As you can imagine I was in quite a state from her antics and having trouble holding the horses. Finally, the cross hairs settled on her open cunt and I gave her both barrels. Bulls eye. A ticker tape appeared above her head. `Congratulations on your successful sample,' scrolled the message across the screen.

Ivana laughed and said there's be no problem analysing such a large sample. The scanner came down and did its thing again and this time it worked. Ivana asked if I would help with their customer feedback survey. There would be a few questions about the service I received, but first would I mind her taking a screenshot of me with my cock in hand to prove I was a happy customer? How could I refuse when she'd been so obliging? Afterwards, she put her lab coat back on and said she was delighted to have met me and I would receive an email with my results within half an hour. She even blew me a kiss goodbye. Delightful girl.

Imagine my surprise when five minutes later I got an email from cutomerservice@yourefuckednow buddy. They claimed to have hacked whosyourdaddy and stollen incriminating photos of me masturbating onto a computer screen. They promised to delete them on receipt of $1000 good will payment.

I was outraged. I wrote back and told them to fuck off, threating to set my bank's fraud department on them and whosyourdaddy, who I believed they were in league with. They replied saying I could do that, but I might want to look at the two email attachments beforehand.

I don't think a photo of my cum face embellished with a clown wig and red nose is a laughing matter, but I can see how some unsympathetic people might. Especially those in the sample of contacts they'd stollen from my online address book; including my church, my boss, the kid's school and my father-in-law.

They say you can't put a price on peace of mind. But I say bollocks, of course you can. Its $1000 and a prayer it will stop at that.