Covid Apocalypse

"Is that semen?" she asked. Ron nodded his head.

"Yes," he said. "There's been concern that the virus could be detected either in the testis or in seminal fluid. Some of us have been pushing for more research in that area, but the higher-ups have been reluctant to even broach the subject. It's something of a moot point now, with this new outbreak."

"But what could cause a mutation like this?" she asked. Ron shrugged his shoulders.

"Many things," he said. "My guess, based on what I've seen so far in our analysis, would be STD blockers. Everyone in this outbreak was found to be using them, and were found to be very sexually active. We have yet to find a case where this happened to someone not on the blockers. But that's just a guess. I need you to help me confirm that hypothesis. And I'll need you to help find a treatment. Fast."

"That bad?" Barbara asked.

"I'm afraid so," he said. "I'll be going to Washington for a bit. I have a meeting with the president. She's putting together a task force to address this new outbreak. Think you can handle this?"

"I think so," she said.

"Good," he said. "Make sure you take all the necessary precautions. By the way, are you or your husband taking the blockers?" She shook her head.

"No," she said. "My husband and I are in a strictly monogamous relationship. We chose to not go on the blockers years ago."

"Even better," he said. "I'll be in touch. Let me know the moment you find something."

...

Ron sat in his first-class seat on the airplane, wearing his face mask like everyone else, poring over the data in his reports. He was very concerned with what he saw. He went back over the data a second time to confirm his suspicions and hoped the president would listen to what he had to say.

He sat back and closed his eyes, formulating his argument in his mind. He knew he had to frame it very carefully, considering that she often listened to her scientific advisor, Dr. Steven Foltz. He knew Steve as the two attended MIT together years ago as he pursued his second doctorate.

He recalled that Steve was somewhat arrogant and had a tendency to say what he thought his audience wanted to hear. He also knew that Steve was the driving force behind the president's national mask mandate, even though he originally argued against it. He hoped Steve could set his personal feelings and ambition aside and pay attention to the actual science for a change.

When the plane landed, he was met by a driver who had been sent by the White House to collect him. He was mildly surprised and halfway expected that he would have been forced to pay for a taxi out of his own pocket. The driver took his bags and opened the back door of the car for him. After arriving at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, he was escorted by Secret Service agents to the Oval Office.

He didn't quite know what to expect from the president, and steeled himself for the encounter. He had read a number of stories about her -- many not very flattering -- and mentally prepared himself. He knew she was a former First Lady before serving in the Senate and spent time as the Secretary of State.

"The president will see you now, Dr. Black," a young woman told him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Thank you," he said. Picking up his briefcase, he followed her to the door of the Oval Office and was ushered inside. He was met by a somewhat short, older woman wearing her trademark pantsuit. Her makeup did little to hide the wrinkles in her face, and he estimated her height at just under five and a half feet tall. She smiled as she extended her hand in greeting, but he felt no warmth in her smile. He accepted her hand in a professional manner.

"Dr. Black, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said.

"Madam President, it's an honor to meet you," Ron said. She motioned to Steve, who also held out his hand.

"I'm sure you know Dr. Steven Foltz," she said.

"Yes, ma'am, Dr. Foltz and I spent some time at MIT together," Ron said as he shook Steve's hand.

"Good to see you again, Ron," Steve said with a smile.

"Likewise," Ron said.

"So, I'm told you're pretty much the smartest man on the planet when it comes to these kinds of issues," the president said.

"Thank you, Madam President," Ron said, glancing at Steve, who simply smiled. "I try my best."

"No need to be coy, Dr. Black," the president said. "Please, have a seat," she added, motioning to one of the chairs in front of her desk. He sat where she indicated and opened his briefcase. "So, what can you tell us about this latest outbreak?"

"The research is ongoing, but I can tell you the virus has mutated," Ron said, pulling two folders from his briefcase. He handed one to Steve and the other to the president. Steve shrugged his shoulders.

"Viruses mutate all the time, Ron, you know that," Steve said, adjusting his wireframe glasses to read the report.

"Not like this, I'm afraid," Ron said.

"Oh?" the president asked. "What makes this mutation so special?"

"This particular mutation is spread through sexual activity," Ron said, causing the other two to look at him in shock.

"Are you saying this has become a sexually-transmitted disease?" Steve asked. Ron nodded his head.

"I am," he said.

"But how is that possible?" Steve asked.

"As you know, I've suspected for some time that this virus could cross various sexual barriers and remain viable in semen," Ron said. "Unfortunately, our efforts to research that have been stymied, mostly by your friends at the World Health Organization."

"Crossing barriers is one thing, but saying that's related to a mutation is something else entirely," Steve said. "There's absolutely no evidence to suggest that's even possible."

"There is now," Ron said, pointing to the folder. "It's in your hands."

"Break it down for me, Dr. Black," the president said, shooting an angry glare at Steve.

"In the latest outbreak, the mutated virus was found in seminal fluid that had been, er, deposited, in each of the female victims," Ron said. "Autopsies of the males found an abundance of the mutated strain in the testis as well."

"Do you have any idea how this mutation happened?" the president asked.

"Our preliminary analysis indicates that the federally-mandated STD blockers played a significant role in that mutation," Ron said. "All of the victims were found to be long-time users of the blockers and were known to be very sexually active."

"Terrific," the president said, exasperated.

"I should also note that this is a very fast-acting virus," Ron said. "On average, only about 12 hours elapsed from exposure to the initial onset of symptoms. Each of the victims died about 72 hours later. None of the standard treatments seemed to work on any of them."

"Are you saying there's no treatment for this?" the president asked. Ron shook his head.

"No ma'am," he said. "Our tests suggest that hydroxychloroquine, if administered early enough, could have made a difference, but there's a very short window for that. Generally speaking, by the time the patient starts showing symptoms, it's too late."

"So what do you suggest?" the president asked.

"First off, the STD blocker mandate needs to be lifted in my opinion, since that what seems to be driving this mutation," Ron said. "The second thing I would suggest is a bit harder, and it'll be very difficult to enforce."

"What's that?" she asked.

"I'm thinking we should encourage people to take a voluntary moratorium on sexual activity," Ron said. "At least until we get this under control or can develop a suitable vaccine." Steve and the president looked shocked. This would fly in the face of a well-known statement he had made during an interview in which he suggested one-night stands would be okay during a previous lock-down.

"Are you serious?" Steve asked. Ron nodded his head.

"I'm afraid so," Ron said.

"And how would you suggest such a moratorium be enforced?" Steve asked sarcastically. Ron shrugged his shoulders and looked at the president.

"Well, we have a mask mandate," Ron began. "The president has the bully pulpit. Maybe she should encourage people to abstain. Surely they would listen to her." The president looked deep in thought as she stared at her desk, her lips pursed. She looked up at Ron before speaking.

"What are we talking about in terms of casualties in case this blows up?" she asked.

"Worst-case models we have suggest tens of millions infected within a matter of six weeks, and as many as 5,000,000 deaths," he said.

"Damn. How long would it take to develop a vaccine?" she asked.

"That's hard to say, ma'am," he said. "It would require a great deal of testing before it could be approved."

"Alright," she said. "We can use the Defense Production Act and get private companies working on it immediately. I can think of a thing or two I think would enforce the mandate. But I'll need help to convince the public this is necessary. Will you do that?" she asked, looking at Ron. He nodded his head.

"As long as it's constitutional and the science supports it, yes," he said. "What do you have in mind, if I may ask." She smiled, but again, there was very little warmth in it.

"Let's just say I know a thing or two about enforced sexual deprivation and leave it at that for now, okay?" she asked. Ron shuddered inside at her statement.

"How would you be able to sell it to the public?" he asked. She gave one of her short trademark cackles before answering.

"That's the easy part," she said. "Trust me. Look, Dr. Black, I'll need some time to digest all this and work up a plan. You realize I'm in the middle of a re-election campaign, don't you?"

"Yes ma'am," Ron said. "But I'm afraid time is a luxury we don't have. We need to act on this as fast as we can."

"Of course," she said. "I understand that. Just work with me on this, okay? In fact, I'd like you to be part of my task force on this. Would you be willing to do that?"

"Certainly," Ron said. "I'll do everything I can."

"Good," she said. "Then it's settled. Continue with your research. Keep me informed through Dr. Foltz. I'll get things rolling with the defense production act and have the pharmaceutical companies contact you for the details. Is there anything else you need to share?"

"Not at this time, Madam President," Ron said.

"Then it's settled," she said, standing up, signaling the end of the meeting. "Keep in touch."

"I will," Ron said, standing up. He shook hands with the president and Steve, grabbed his briefcase and left the office. When the door closed, the president looked at Steve.

"You think he can be trusted?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Steve said. She nodded her head.

"I hope so," she said. "I'll need to work on the messaging for this, run it through some focus groups, see what our legal options are. I'll also need to see how this will affect us in the polls. And for God's sake, no more talk about hooking up or Tinder dates, got it?"

"Certainly," Steve said.

"Oh, one last thing, Steve," she said.

"What's that?" he asked.

"I'd like you to do some research for me if you would," she said.

"Oh?" he asked. "On what?"

"Chastity devices," she said. "Both male and female. Are you okay with that?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he said. She smiled as she nodded her head, thinking about how a certain former president would react to being locked up in a cock cage 24 hours a day, seven days a week. "I'll get right on it," he told her.

"Do that," she said. "Make it your top priority."

"Yes, ma'am," he said nervously.

...

Ron flew back after the meeting, having no desire to stay the night in Washington, D.C. He was flattered that the president would ask him to be part of such an important thing as the pandemic task force. Still, something nagged at him.

For starters, there was Steve Foltz, a man who barely got his doctorate. Although he carries the honorific of "Doctor," the truth was he hadn't been involved in any real research for a number of years. These days, he was more a politician than scientist, and made most of his money through lucrative deals with various pharmaceutical companies.

Yet here he was holding a prominent position on the president's task force. From what he could tell, Steve spent more time yakking it up with television and Internet personalities than doing any real work. And when he did talk there was no telling what he was going to say.

One day, for example, he said one-night stands with dates acquired over the Internet were just fine. The next he would say they weren't. The same went with the mask mandate. One day, he said that everyday mask use wasn't necessary. Then he fell all over himself endorsing the president's national mask mandate. Not too long ago, he went so far as to suggest double- or triple-masking.

Personally, he had mixed feelings about the mandate. He agreed people needed to take steps to protect themselves and others, and he did his part, using masks designed specifically for viruses like this. But a lot of the face coverings he saw were all but worthless against something like Covid-19.

Then there were some governors who took the mandate even further, issuing edicts that included face shields and even latex gloves. At first, people were responsive to the mandates, but grew weary of them as time wore on. Predictably, protests grew as a result of the mandates and lock-down orders, some of which he saw as ridiculous power grabs and not based on any science whatsoever.

All of this made him wonder how the public might react to a moratorium on sexual activity. Worse yet, he wondered how local, state and federal authorities could enforce such a thing. Fortunately, he thought, that wasn't part of his job. But he was certain that drastic measures were necessary if this new strain was to be defeated.

On top of all that, he couldn't help but wonder if the president had another agenda, an ulterior motive. He knew she was in the middle of a campaign, so he couldn't help but wonder if she could devote the necessary time to something like this.

It was all making his head spin. He looked out the window and thought of happier things, like his wife, Belinda, a beautiful, intelligent woman who shared his love of Star Trek and like him, was fluent in the fictional Klingon language.

After his flight landed, he texted her to say he would be home soon. Her reply came within a couple minutes: "Good. I've missed you and can't wait to get you in bed." He smiled at the thought and hurried home.

...

It was 2:15 am when Patrolman John Benning received a call from dispatch to check out a public disturbance at Riverfront Park. He accepted the call and headed for the park, which was only a few blocks from his current location. He approached the park quietly without turning on his lights or sirens. He knew from experience the park was a favorite hangout for drug dealers, drunkards, homeless people and those who generally liked to cause trouble.

He expected to see people arguing or fighting, but nothing prepared him for the sight that presented him when he turned into the park. There had to have been at least 100 people in various stages of undress, participating in what could only be described as a wild, public orgy.

They were all fucking each other with wild abandon, not caring who saw them or where they were. On top of that, they didn't appear to be drunk. He saw women being screwed by as many as three men at the same time. When they finished, they simply moved on to the next available cock, or pussy. Some of them even looked right at him as he sat in the patrol car, but kept right on screwing. He picked up his microphone and contacted the dispatcher.

"I'm going to need some backup here, fast" he said after identifying himself and his location.

"10-4," the dispatcher said. "Backup on its way." He flashed his lights and turned his siren on for a few seconds to get everyone's attention. Those who were closest looked up, startled, and a number of them ran off when they realized the newcomer to their gathering was a police officer. John looked in his mirror when he saw another set of headlights behind him. The car stopped next to him and he got out, recognizing his sergeant's vehicle.

"Damn, Benning," the barrel-chested sergeant said when he got out of the car. "What the hell's going on?"

"Looks like a public orgy to me, Sergeant," John said.

"No shit," the sergeant said. "We're gonna need a few more cars and maybe a wagon or two to get this bunch to the lockup." He keyed his microphone and called dispatch. John turned toward the crowd just in time to see a naked woman rush at him, her eyes wild.

"Fuck me," she screamed as she fell down at his feet, masturbating wildly. "Goddamn it, stick your cock in me and fuck me," she demanded as she rubbed herself with wild abandon. Apparently, John thought, she was so far gone she didn't realize he was a police officer.

"What the hell are these people on?" the sergeant asked. John shook his head.

"Don't know, Sergeant," he said. "But they seem to have no grasp of reality." Soon, the park was filled with police cruisers and vans. Officers donned masks, latex gloves and face shields, then waded into the sea of naked, sex-crazed humanity. They cuffed as many as they could, and stuffed them into the back of the vans. One officer came to John and the sergeant, who were doing what they could to thin out the crowd.

"Where are we taking these people?" the officer asked.

"Dispatch says we're to take them to the hospital and have them quarantined," the sergeant said as he zip-tied one woman's hands behind her back. "Orders from the Health Department." The woman, oblivious to the officer holding her back, bucked her hips as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her body. The officer nodded his head in acknowledgment and went back to his work.

...

Ron shook his head as he read the reports that were stacking up on his desk. It had been a couple weeks since his meeting with the president, and he had yet to hear from the White House. What were they planning, he wondered. Were they hoping this would just go away? He had sent his daily reports to Steve, but so far all he had heard was a lot of bureaucratic buzzword blah.

A couple of pharmaceutical companies had reached out to him for advise, but he knew they were no closer to a cure than he was. He began to wonder if one could be found in time.

Every day brought an increase in reported cases, and the numbers were steadily growing. By now, over 30 million people in the country had tested positive, and the death toll had broken the half-million mark.

From the reports he saw, the mutated virus was now acting like a libido-enhancing drug, turning its victims into sex-crazed maniacs. He began to notice a trend, though. It seemed that those who had been using the blockers the longest were more affected than the others. Frustrated, he went to see Barbara to get an update.

"Any progress yet?" he asked.

"Some," she said. "But I have to tell you, I've never seen anything quite like this before."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, the best way I can describe it is this -- the new strain, once it incubates fully in the victim, is more potent than any date-rape drug on the market," she said. "And the presence of the STD blockers seems to amplify the symptoms. The more blockers in the victim's system, the worse the reaction." Ron suspected this as well, and her findings confirmed his suspicions.

"And of course, the victims are driven to engage in sex, thereby spreading the virus even further," Ron said.

"They're more than just 'driven,' Ron," she said. "It's the only thing they can focus on. All logic, all reason, any form of coherent or rational thought is gone. All they can focus on is getting sexual release."