It's Raining MEN!

"Can you prove to us that you are Mother Nature?"

Mother Nature smiled again. "Aw! You are not supposed to interrupt a Guest. A predictable reaction, but OK. What do I have to show you besides a shower of men? An earthquake? A volcano? An eruption?"

Martine shrugged her shoulders with exaggerated indifference, almost as if to challenge her: "Take your pick. Do your worst."

Mother Nature snapped her fingers rapidly with a Doule Snap: Tsk, tsk!

A pimple popped up on Britney's nose like a sudden eruption.

"Hey! It's not fair! I've always believed in You, is Martine here, the unbeliever!"

"Sorry: I thought looking from the outside would show her better."

Bridget was unnerved: "Damn! A pimple on Halloween night, and with all those males around! And I haven't eaten salami in months, and only I know how much I miss salami!"

Martine dropped to her knees. "Please, Mother Nature, remove the pimple from my colleague's cute face, she was so cute before..."

Bridget turned around sharply thinking "I'm cute?".

Double Snap: the pimple was gone.

The two girls looked at each other open-mouthed in surprise.

Bridget tried to gain goodwill by boasting of her own merits as a worshipper. "I went vegan to save you, Nature, from human pollution!"

"Oh, dear... I thank you, but it is not YOU who is the problem..."

Martine asked, worried: "Are you going to die? Is humanity about to kill you?"

"Me? No! Well, that's a pretty scary idea for a Halloween night tale, but no, dear, I've survived lava, the extinction of the Dinosaurs a couple of small volcanic eruptions, and even a few meteorites... it won't be human beings the size of ants that kill me."

"Then can I stop being a vegan? Because I can't take it anymore!"

"You can stop pretending many things tonight, my dear, brave, generous Brit. You can stop one thing that weighs heavily on you, in particular."

"I knew you were pretending...." punched the White girl.

"You, on the other hand, are a hypocrite..." punched the Red girl.

"Girls..."

"But how is it possible..." punched the White girl.

"And you don't understand..." punched the Red girl.

"Girls..."

"But I thought..." punched the White girl.

"Your reputation, on the other hand..." punched the Red girl.

"GIRLS! My, what a pair of drama queens! You have a Guest in the Studio and you spend all your time bickering like two old ladies! I need your help, like, messengers, trumpeters of the Apocalypse, sort of."

"The end of the world? We're about to die and I'm a virgin?!"

"But no, no... Angel is an ancient word for Messenger. Okay? The internet doesn't work here in Nova Halifax and neither does TV. In the rest of North America, the news went out ordinarily, but here, only Campus Radio works..."

"What do you want us to do, Your Highness?"

"As a title, Mother will do. I would like you to spread the news, that Mother Nature has taught angels of all types and hierarchical levels to prepare a shower of men: so that every woman could find her perfect guy. Hold back your objections: my co-workers have already pointed out to me the lack of as much generosity for gay men, and also (secondarily) for heterosexual males: for whom a shower of women would be needed, which we will do ASAP. But don't announce that, I like it better if it's a surprise. OK?"

"Okay... Mother Nature."

"Ah, um, girls, don't fight. I would like you to propose my message in harmony, and collaboration."

"I'll say it."

"No, me!"

"There is no 'I' in the word TEAM"

"There is, it's hidden in the A., I saw it in a meme."

"Hey! Don't contradict Mother Nature!"

"Stop fighting! I want there to be... harmony, in the literal sense: you will have to SING TOGETHER. And I want you to collaborate: that calls for a DUET. I know that your Radio repertoire lacks the record of 'The Weather Girls', but I also know that there is a basis for karaoke: it will be enough for the two of you to sing the song's lyrics over the melody. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Yes. Deal."

"What you have seen so far are a few rained men as a foretaste to create the news and fuel curiosity. At 10.30, I said, "At My Signal, Unleash Hell"... ah, no, that was a Gladiator movie, with Russell Crowe. I said, "At My Signal, Unleash RAIN!"

You guys need to explain what's going on. These 'rained men' are a gift from Mother Nature to all women. They are, in reality, compacted clouds with stiff dicks and the face of the man each woman desires. They don't talk, they don't act, they don't do anything, except what may be useful for that woman's orgasm.

If a woman needs to hear some words (sweet, or rough), she will hear them, otherwise, silence. No mansplaining, no lying, nothing.

If a woman needs to be lifted off the ground, like a hero sweeps her off her feet, the man will do it, otherwise, they will just make love.

If a woman needs two men at once... if she needs long oral foreplay... I mean, we understand each other as women, OK?"

The Earthly Odd Couple nodded silently.

"The rain of cocks is intended by me, as Mother Nature, to allow all women to be pregnant, and she invites all girls to go out in the street: without umbrellas and weatherproof raincoats, i.e., out of metaphor, without condoms."

"But won't it be a problem if they all give birth at the same time? Both for the obstetrics wards and for the childbirth classes..." objected the Red girl.

"Until yesterday you were worried about the extinction of humanity, and now you're worried about a few thousand babies? Don't worry, Mother Nature takes care of everything, these dicks are magic, births will be staggered over the months, some after six or seven months, others after ten or eleven... it will mean that other doctors will help: dentists, dermatologists, orthopaedists... don't worry, Life will find a way..."

Chapter 4: What could be scarier, than a flood of pregnancies?

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Mother Nature continued to explain. "Tonight, every woman who wants a pregnancy will get it. So as not to clog the pediatric wards, some pregnancies will last a few months longer, but I count that between May and September, we will have all the deliveries completed."

"But this is frightening news! The earth's surface is already overpopulated! There is not enough food! We will go extinct!"

"You know what Jeff Goldblum says in a famous movie? "These creatures require our absence to survive, not our help. And if we could only step aside and trust in Mother Nature, LIFE WILL FIND A WAY,' he says... We'll see."

"And for the girls who are on the pill?"

"Leave it to Mother Nature, dear... the pill is just a little chemical trick that I can get around whenever I want! I'll see to it that it malfunctions just today... if a girl wants to, of course! Likewise, condoms won't work... umbrellas, or mackintoshes, there is nothing that can stop the magic of Mother Nature"

The girls nodded. Each had heard several of their friends describe in detail how the birth control systems had not worked properly.

Patting her belly softly, Mother Nature continued, "My goal is not to increase or decrease the population: that's a topic for Horror stories, with girls having sex and then being chased by chainsaw-wielding psychopaths. No. My goal is orgasms. There are too few orgasms on this planet and I want them to increase."

"Orgasms. Understood. But I..." one of the two girls interrupted shyly.

Mother Nature sighed. "To one of you, I have to explain that the hymen can also detach on its own and that you should not make a problem of it: by the way, after a night like this, no male will ever again believe that virgin girls exist! And then, when you give birth, the hymen will only be a distant memory."

Martine swallowed hard before saying something difficult. "Mother Nature, I beg your pardon... despite all appearances, I am not a virgin."

Mother Nature nodded, aware. "I know it's not good manners to quote yourself, but as I said, it is not YOU who is the problem."

The Gothic witch fell to her knees, wracked with sobs. Her bare feet arched, her shoulders shaking, Bridget had lost all bravery and was crying like a small child. "Please, Mother Nature, help me! I understand that all these men have rained down from heaven to help the likes of me, but I am afraid!"

The shy, virginal Martha looked at her dumbfounded. "Afraid of what?"

Bridget was red with anger and embarrassment. "I am afraid of penetration! I am VIRGIN, do you understand that, Martine?"

"The Vegan Witch Bridget! YOU are a virgin? But if you have a reputation for..."

"Shut up, that we have an important Guest! Often males boast things that never happened and use my name to pretend they've had so much experience. But I am VIRGIN. Are you amazed? Imagine me, who just learned that YOU are not a virgin!"

Martine blushed. "Oh! It happened by mistake!"

"They all say that!"

"It was my brother's birthday. I was already eighteen. A friend of my brother proposed SOAKING."

"What? Under the rain?"

"But no, what a silly gothic witch you are! Soaking is when a guy puts only the tip of his cock in her pussy, only an inch or less, and stays still. The girl is not deflowered completely but receives stimulation that gets the vaginal juices flowing... so the boy's penis is marinated in the hot juices. The friends hop around the mattress, so that it vibrates, and the two get aroused without bringing the act to completion!"

Mother Nature grinned like a Condescending Wonka Chocolate Factory meme. "And tell me, does this Soaking practice work, or is it just completely ineffective nonsense?"

"It never works! Some fool lost his balance and bumped my back! I was unwillingly pushed against that jerk's immobile penis, and my hymen broke! But that one was so intoxicated by the situation, he didn't even notice! Neither he nor the others who were jumping around. However, since then, I don't accept invitations to dates from anyone, lest they find out I'm not a virgin!"

Mother Nature was still posing, as Gene Wilder: "And Tell Me More, was it a good choice for you?"

"No..."

"Mother Knows Best! No, not that mom from Rapunzel Soundtrack. Me: Mother Nature. So, listen up: you two are going to be my two messengers for this island: the campus and the towns around listen to your radio. I need you two to stop fighting and sing in harmony. Look into each other's eyes."

The Odd Couple were both kneeling before the dark green cloud.

The two girls looked at each other, for the first time, without their eyes being covered by the masks they usually wore to give themselves some security, some protection.

Neither of them could speak. Very odd, because usually both were very quick and relentless with those sharp tongues.

Mother Nature spoke for them. "Girls, I am in a hurry this evening, I cannot wait for an Eternity. Make it quick: I'll do the talking. Yes, she loves you. Yes, she loves you too. Yes, she adores your bare feet even when they are dirty and would like to wash and massage them for you. Yes, she loves your hair and would like to comb it and cuddle it while you fall asleep. Yes, your friend is a full 100% lesbian even though she has never let you know it. Yes, your friend is too. Oh! If you thought you amazed ME... for millions of years I have watched the females of the human species kiss, lick, and gift orgasms to each other... help each other, comfort each other, heal each other... and it seems to me that between the traumas and injuries, you two have a lot of healing to go through."

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Chapter 5. Those relentless tongues, both quick and slow.

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The two girls were now one mouth: embraced, their tongues wrapped around each other's tongue. As lovers, the tongues appeared much less sharp.

"I hope you are still listening to me. Even for you two, the angels have arranged two perfect men... but from what I see, you don't need much. He is for you: he has the face of Brad Pitt in 'Troy', a very frequent choice this evening. He's for you: Chris Hemsworth in "Thor", is also a popular choice.

If you don't need their, ahem, tools of their service, I can send them back to heaven right now. Otherwise, you can use them to hang your handbag or a necklace. The erection will last all night, you can use them as furniture or statues.

I know you both want to conceive a daughter. Just tonight, just together. Modestly, I can grant that wish, and I want to. Double Snap! Now you're pregnant. It's magic, don't ask too many questions: I extracted the male DNA of her father and made a sperm. So remember, the two girls will be like sisters from a genetic point of view!

Bah. These two won't listen to me. I'll leave the recorded message on the mental answering machine." And in a flash of smoke, Mother Nature disappeared.

The two girls didn't notice anything. They were too busy kissing and licking each other, after months of constant poking and prodding, they had finally realized they were in love, soul mates. And it was all true... Martine adored Bridget's small, slender feet, and in her heart, she wished she dared to walk barefoot regardless of social conventions. And she adored those firm little tits that didn't need a bra to stand proudly to the sky. Bridget loved everything about Martine: her fingers, her big mammaries, her round ass, her puffy, swollen pussy, which at that moment seemed even more worthy of veneration because she knew she was pregnant.

Without even taking off their black skirt and white blouse, the two lovers licked each other's tits and nipples. Bridget wanted to taste Martine's pussy: she crouched down on all fours and slipped off her white trousers and panties, to take the satisfaction of eating her first. It was easy to take the trousers off a girl who still had no pregnant belly. Martine took the opportunity to also kick off her shoes and caress her tits: she had the sensation that they were more swollen, but it was only a perception because it is impossible to feel pregnancy from day one.

Bridget's tongue and her slender hands were a balm for Martine's pregnant pussy, which had been neglected for too long: the Quebecois girl had an orgasm right in front of the vaporous statue of Brad Pitt dressed in the armor of the blond Achilles, with a hard cock, who looked at her smiling.

From Achilles' point of view, the two girls looked like a big white blur as Martine's unbuttoned shirt juxtaposed with the long red hair of Bridget's hair, who was still wearing her black t-shirt and skirt. They looked like one.

Bridget bit her lip, thinking that her lover would be too tired to enjoy her as well. But Martine pounced on her with the hunger of a tiger: somehow, she knew Bridget wasn't wearing panties, the rumors were true. Martine sucked her small tits, mumbling something in French (something like the perfect size for a boob, is a crystal champagne glass) then forced her on all four. Rimjob: and to think that everyone thought Martine was a bigot! The Gothic witch found her rosebud clean as a whistle, with Martine's tongue reaching lengths not even Gene Simmons of Kiss. At that point, Martine wet her middle finger with saliva and then buried it deeply into her lover's anus.

"Please spare my vagina!"

"Be quiet! You don't sleep in a room with three virgin sisters without learning a trick or three."

"What do you mean?"

"One in the stink, three around the clit, dear."

Like any good apprentice witch, Bridget had masturbated in many ways and with many different sex toys. But nothing could hold a candle to a girl devoted to pleasuring your clit, gently caressing your wet labia while, at the same time, she impales you with her finger in the deepest part of your anus... Bridget felt the orgasm build quickly, multiplied by Martine's kisses on the small nipples, and with a flurry of moans that could rival the thunder outside the window, she too orgasmed. In front of the inert statue of Chris Hemsworth, useless, lazily rubbing the handle of the hammer Mjollnir, powerful yet useless again.

Sometimes orgasm induces drowsiness: the two lovers would soon learn to sleep in each other's arms or to compete to see who could get up first without making noise to prepare breakfast for the other.

But that evening the orgasm had provided them with a new energy. As everyone knows, stupid things are said after an orgasm, and it would be wise to stay far away from radio microphones. But it was nearly 10:30, the flood was about to be unleashed, and the population had to be alerted.

Bridget said, 'I sing the first voice. You do the choruses, the countermelodies, the Amen, and the Hallelujahs."

"Perfect. Hallelujah is my Middle Name."

"Really? Because my name is..."

"But no, you Gothic fool! It's a figure of speech for brag and extreme competence. Quick, put the base for live karaoke!"

What follows is what the girls sang. Some statements were not exactly accurate, but as we said, a lot of silly things are said after orgasm.

The words in uppercase were sung or shouted by Martine, as well as the sassy comments: by now she had stripped off her virginal mask.

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"Humidity is rising (UH! RISING! I KNOW WHAT IS "RISING" RIGHT NOW...), barometer's getting low (HOW LOW YOU CAN GO, GIRL? AND DOWN THERE...), and according to all sources (WHAT SOURCES NOW?), the street is the place to go! (WE BETTER HURRY UP)!

'Cause tonight, for the first time ("FIRST TIME"? IT SOUNDS LIKE SOME VIRGIN'S STUFF), just about half-past ten (HALF-PAST TEN), for the first time in history it's gonna start raining men (START RAINING MEN)!

It's raining men (HALLELUJAH!), it's raining men (AMEN!) so I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get soaking wet! (spoken: NO, BRO: YOUR SOAKING IS NOT A THING. IT'S... SO SILLY. DON'T DO IT).

It's raining men, (HALLELUJAH!), it's raining men, every specimen: tall, blonde, dark and lean, rough and tough and strong and mean!"

Bridget smiled with her eyes full of joy, sensing the presence of a daughter in her womb. She handed the microphone to the lover, friend, the only girl she would have liked to marry immediately: the mother of her daughter.

The gesture was clear: I need you to sing now, now you will sing.

Martine nodded: the idea of a daughter in her womb multiplied her energies and banished her shyness.

GOD BLESS MOTHER NATURE, SHE'S A SINGLE WOMAN TOO! She took off to Heaven and she did what she had to do [as ever]. SHE TAUGHT EVERY ANGEL, SHE REARRANGED THE SKY: so that each and every woman, TONIGHT, could find her perfect guy! GUY! guy! GUY! It's raining men!"

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Chapter 7: Terror, Horror, and Panic at the Radio!

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Meanwhile, there is panic outside. The men who fell from the sky are only for girls: both single and married!

This unleashes a wave of terror in various categories!

Boyfriends were terrified, of making a bad impression in the comparison (for length, duration, girth, technique...).

Husbands were worried that their wives were pregnant with DNA that fell from the sky.

Gays were offended that each wanted a man for themselves too.

Until Britney, in between orgasms, reached the microphone.

Still panting, she declared, in a metallic voice in the style of official radio announcements:

"Breaking News.

This is just confirmed: Raining men are taking over.

They are flooding the streets and there is no way our water mains can handle this.

Don't waste time wearing a cond- I mean a COAT and even the umbrella seems less useful tonight... just search for your perfect guy... and hope for the best.

Our reliable but confidential and classified sources (whose identity we cannot disclose) now assure us that any woman who wants it tonight... will be pregnant.

In response to the complaints that have already been received in the radio studios, we can make the following points:

A) Yes, a Deluge of gay men is expected to meet the needs already expressed, both after or before the outing, and from curious heterosexuals.