Panic in Philadelphia

"He?" he muttered, confused.

My tormentor was definitely a he. A male, at least, with a powerful hardon for me. It wanted to make me suffer.

Cooper looked at my cock, and then down at his own. They were identical, I knew. Mine would penetrate another woman's vagina or rear end just beautifully, and fill her with cum, just as Cooper had done to me. The cock was dying for attention. Why didn't I just stroke it off? I imagined laying down on the bed, pointing it upwards and ejaculating all over my chest. Guys sometimes do that to me. I never understood that pleasure, until now.

The thing lost interest in my spanking. It had me kneel between Cooper's legs and ease them apart. He wanted no part if this. The situation, not me. His expression was miserable with pity and anguish.

"I really like you," I said.

"I really like you too, Melissa."

His cell phone rang and he looked for it distractedly. I knew that my tormentor had no control over men. Otherwise, I'd have gotten my spanking when it wanted me to. I could choke myself on Cooper's cock, but it chose to not make me do that. Just as it chose to leave me in my bra and panties yesterday at lunch. It did, and didn't want to make me suffer. That only confused me more.

"Should I answer the phone?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Who is it?"

Disgruntled, snapping a glare at the lamp, he arose and stepped awkwardly around me. Whatever his mental bearing, his penis wanted only one thing. It was a phallus of frightening proportions again. My erection had withered, and I wished it would go away completely, forever. I wanted my vagina back.

"It's Gwen," he muttered.

"I knew it," I groaned. "Don't answer it. Please."

He hesitated five seconds, and then swiped the display with his fingertip. "Hi," he said, grimacing.

I could hear her agitated voice, complaining from Philadelphia. He straightened and looked out the window, then at me, wide-eyed. "It's happening again," he mouthed. I joined him at the window and saw naked women below, some being manhandled by men, or groups of men in some cases.

"Please stop this," I moaned.

Cooper looked at me sharply, and then winced. "No, just a friend in the bar. We were just..." I shook my head frantically, warning him off. He winced again, aware of his blunder.

"Yes," he admitted, "she's naked. All the women are. I'm playing Galahad with a couple of other..." I shook my head frantically again. How could men be so stupid.

"...men," he finished. He nodded while I held my breath. Then, relieved, he handed the phone to me. "She wants to talk to you."

Wonderful. Anything else I can do to humiliate myself?

"Hello? Uh, huh. I'm Melissa." I eyed her husband reproachfully. If she asked where we were, I was dead. He'd never told me where he was staying.

"Are you okay?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm coping," I confessed. "It's not how I expected to end my evening, naked in a bar."

I had just blown it bad as Cooper. I was supposed to be unaware what was going on, or the reason for the fuss. She seemed not to notice.

"It's all of central Manhattan," she said, "and parts of Brooklyn and Queens. Jersey too. They're saying it's twice the diameter of yesterday's occurrence. No, four times the size," she corrected, horrified. "Evidently, no one was expecting it."

I bet they weren't, I thought grimly.

Cooper touched my shoulder and pointed down. To my great relief, my penis was gone, and my gargantuan testicles. Then I noted the huge bulge of my belly and gasped, realizing I was six months pregnant. My breasts were swollen and displaying distension marks. They had never been so big, or so ugly.

"Holy shit!" I mouthed. His eyes were round as plates. I instinctively tried to cover myself, one-armed.

"Holy shit!" Gwen cried in Philadelphia.

"What?" I cried in return, sidestepping away from the window. My breasts felt so freaking heavy and ponderous. They hurt. I should be wearing a bra.

"They're saying everyone's pregnant! Kids, old women, everyone. Are you pregnant?" she asked incredulously.

I confirmed, chagrined, that I was. I jabbed a finger at my stomach, and then out the window, making an angry, all-encompassing gesture. His eyes grew incredibly bigger. He was eyeing me, entranced. Did he like having me pregnant? I wondered what sex it was, if I'd have a girl. I'd always wanted a girl. I felt her ghost move inside me, and shuddered. I had to go pee.

"This has been going on a while," I pointed out. "Yesterday's was only ten minutes long."

I eased back to the window and peeked outside. Men were now assisting the women, rather than raping them. That was good.

Brooklyn, Queens and Jersey? This was huge. Millions of us maybe, eighteen and over. Would we stay pregnant? Lose our babies? I placed a defensive hand on my belly, suddenly afraid. My daughter, inside, rustled again.

I looked at Cooper. I had no hope it was his. Unless all if them were his. His sperm was still alive in me somewhere, swimming restlessly around my uterus, looking for eggs. At least, it had been. Had my tormentor used it to impregnate me? Did I contain enough sperm cells to impregnate all it's victims? I wondered how much maternity leave I had.

"I have a confession to make," I said, distressed. I looked pleadingly at Cooper, about to spill the beans. He started, alarmed, grabbing for the phone. I ducked away and confessed to sleeping with her husband.

"What?" she choked.

"Last night, and almost tonight too," I said. "The start of the thing stopped me, but I would have fucked him crazy could I have managed it. He has a really big cock," I said, strangling with embarrassment. I put my hand to my face. "He didn't want you to know. I was forced to tell you. I'm sorry."

There was a long pause. "Forced?" she repeated thickly.

"By whatever's doing this, yes. Can I ask you something?" She made a struggling, affirmative sound in Philadelphia. "Why are you calling from your boss's house?"

Her silence became horrified. "What?

I looked at Cooper. "She's not at home. She's sitting on the end of her boss's bed, watching the news. They were doing what we tried to do, but his business partner called and interrupted them. She's in a sheer wrap she keeps at his house, legs crossed tight, shaking her foot. At least she was. I can see her somehow, and she's very pretty," I said, looking away.

"You better get home to the kids," I told her. "The sitter is having a panic attack over what's happening here. She's trying to call you right now. That's her now, on the other line."

In Philadelphia, Gwen Longstreet choked a strangled reply, and asked for her husband. I explained about my new diary and suggested she start one too. Then I extended the phone to Cooper.

"She really does love you. She just has this thing for pleasing her boss. It's why she's his vice-president of customer relations. She has a lot of things to tell you. Don't be angry with her, okay...she means well. She doesn't want a divorce."

I gave him the phone, and went in the bathroom to pee.

Friday, June 19, 5:58 a.m.

I'm done with this entry. I'm so tired, but I felt it important to get it down on paper before it all got fuzzy. I have such a terrible memory.

Cooper is gone; that's bad. I'm still pregnant, which is good. My tormentor said I could keep it or have it go away, whichever I wanted. I begged him to let her stay. He extended the same choice to all his victims.

Later today, I need to find out what my insurance covers and if I get maternity leave. I can imagine my bosses face, seeing me six months pregnant. I don't have a large selection of maternity wear-oh, wait! I don't have any at all, LOL.

Anyway, I think it's time for a shower. After I go pee.

The End