The Problem With Immortality Ch. 03

The Problem With Immortality

Chapter 3

By Gary LM Martin

Chapter 3: The Circuit

Jennifer Spaulding groaned and grabbed her head. It was still pounding. She had drunk too much last night. Again.

She was cold. Her eyes slowly focused. She was lying naked on a hotel bed, the blanket thrown roughly on the floor. Her legs were spread, and her vaginal lips were crudely stretched open, as if something big had sculpted and shaped them that way. Her labial lips felt itchy, as if something had dried on them that made her skin taut. Looking down she saw a trail of whitish-yellowish stains on the bedsheet between her spread legs.

Dan... Dale... had that been his name? Or had Dale been yesterday? No, last night was Dale. Definitely Dale.

She had found him on the Circuit. The same place where she had found all of them.

Dale had a handsome smile, was a professional tennis player, and had a big hairy chest. That had been enough for Jennifer, who was trying to drown herself in sexuality. In the past six months she had lost count of the number of men she had slept with. Big men, tall men, small men, cocky men, sly men, black men, all kinds of men. She was trying to make up for lost time, to sample every kind of male body out there.

But it was impossible to wash the taste of 311 years of marriage out of her head, no matter how many men she spread her legs for. Anson, Anson! How could he! It was like he had stabbed her through the heart!

Oh, after 300 years of marriage, Jennifer had also felt a certain level of... weariness. She couldn't deny it. But she never could have imagined leaving Anson, never imagine doing to him exactly what he had done to her.

Judy was infuriating unsympathetic. She took Anson's side, saying it was natural for a man who had been faithful to one woman to want a little variety after 300 years. Jennifer had had some harsh words with her daughter, and ended the conversation abruptly.

And now her comm was buzzing. Jennifer, with unfocused eyes, reached up and grabbed it. It was Judy again.

Jennifer pulled the covers over her body. She activated it. "Yes," she croaked.

"Mom?" said Judith. "Mom, is that you? You look terrible!"

"Thank you, dear," said Jennifer. She reached over for a glass of water on a nightstand, and swallowed it.

"Mom, what have you been doing?" Judy asked.

"Oh, not much, this and that," said Jennifer evasively.

"You've been putting yourself out on the Circuit, haven't you?" Judith asked. When Jennifer didn't answer, Judith said, "I've seen your profile."

Jennifer tried to contain her embarrassment. Profiles were very personal. They included nude photos. They had to, in this day and age, to attract interest. So Judy, her sweet Judith, had seen closeup photos of her... of her....

"Mom, this isn't you," said Judith.

"Then what is me?" Jennifer asked, feeling disoriented.

"Find a new man, yes, by all means, but not on the Circuit! Go out, explore your interests, meet someone organically," said Judith.

Organically.

"You'll get a much better pairing than you will by hooking up with some random penis at a click of a button."

Jennifer glared at Judith. Her own daughter shouldn't be talking to her like that.

"Dad's taking this hard too," said Judith.

"Oh, is he?" said Jennifer.

"Yes," said Judith. "You're still both in pain, even now, six months later."

"Really? And who caused this pain?" Jennifer asked.

"Did you really want Dad to stay with you when he was unhappy?"

"He might have said something," said Jennifer, and she was starting to cry now.

"What could he say? That after 300 years, he was tired and needed something else?" Judy asked. "He hurt you, Mom, there's no way around it. But do you know how many marriages are still going after 300 years? Do you?"

Jennifer, wiping tears off her cheek, shook her head.

"I looked it up. 19,024. 19,024 marriages out of 30 billion people. And I'll bet a lot of those 19,000 marriages are in name only," said Judy. "Dad hurt you, but it's natural biology. It's natural psychology. Mankind wasn't designed for monogamous relationships stretching for hundreds or thousands of years. You shouldn't blame him for this."

"I can blame your father for this, and I do!" Jennifer wailed.

"You'll get over it, Mom. And you'll get over him," said Judy.

"How?" Jennifer cried.

"Actually, I have a few ideas on the subject which might interest you," said Judy.

********

The Circuit.

The Circuit was the most comprehensive listing of men and women available for hookups on the planet Earth. You could slice and dice it a thousand ways: by geographical location, by gender, by age requirements (both actual and cosmetic), by sexual preferences, by type of relationship desired (casual, relationship, or something exotic like 1 on 2 or 2 on 4 or more), or by many other criteria. People wrote profiles of themselves, but it was the holos which were most telling.

With so many people on the Circuit, and so much competition for fresh penis and vagina, people had to be more and more explicit to attract attention. At first people had to post nude holoimages of themselves to stand out over the crowd. But when everyone started to post nude photos, participants had to include more and more explicit images to attract attention.

So Anson and Jessica could look at profiles on the Circuit and find not only nude photos of women listed there, but very intimate closeup shots of their breasts and vaginas.

"That one looks good," said Jessica, pointing to a profile of a blonde beauty.

"No," said Anson. "She has very lazy, hanging breasts."

"So?"

"Odour likes women with fuller, more bell shaped breasts," said Anson.

They had a lot of research material to work with. Odour had been married to four women and had serious relationships with ten others. They had eliminated three of the women who Odour had had very short term relationships with, and had also eliminated Odour's first wife, who he had met in college, from their deliberations, the former because their relationships were not very lasting, and the latter because Odour's tastes had undoubtedly changed in the over 400 years since he had selected his first wife.

Of the ten women remaining, Jessica had amassed detailed bios, and five of the ten were on the Circuit. So they had been able to learn a number of interesting things about Odour's tastes.

1) He liked women who were chronologically old, at least 100 years old, but cosmetically no older than 25.

2) Of the ten women, seven were blondes, and three were brunettes, but they all had full thick heads of long, straight hair.

3) Nine of the ten had been highly educated.

4) Seven of the ten were white; three were ethnically Chinese.

5) They all had at least C cups, even the Chinese women, who had obviously been augmented.

6) They all had big eyes and narrow noses, and skinny faces.

7) Six of the ten had blue eyes, three had green eyes, and one had hazel eyes. None had brown or black (dark brown) eyes.

8) All were "top heavy", with big breasts, but slender figures.

9) All had had significant long term partners before meeting Odour. He had broken up two marriages to acquire two of the women he had entered into relationships with.

That was enough to work with. They programmed those characteristics into the computer, and had it process profiles. The computer spat out 94,000 results in a preliminary search. That was way too many.

Anson tried to limit cull the list further. He only viewed women who had four and a half or five star ratings from their paramours. That's right, there was a rating system on the Circuit. Those who were good in bed got good ratings.

But even slimming the list by good ratings didn't make the list small enough to be manageable. So Anson and Jessica took on the tedious job of looking at one profile after another, trying to manually select a handful of women who might appeal to Francisco Odour.

"How about this one?" said Jessica, showing him the one she was currently viewing on her datapad.

Anson saw the photo of an attractive brunette. "He prefers blondes, but maybe... what about the rest of her?"

"Next photo," said Jessica, and her datapad displayed the woman's breasts.

Anson whistled. "Nice. What about her vagina?"

"Vagina photo," said Jessica, and her datapad obediently displayed the photo. Anson saw a hairy pubic area and fleshy vaginal lips.

"No, that won't do, not at all," said Anson.

"Why not?"

"Francisco doesn't like women with big labias," said Anson. "Look at the profiles of the five of his women who are on the Circuit. All of them have narrow labias."

"We can't be certain that that's a determinative factor," said Jessica. "It's a possible correlation, not a causation."

"We can get Odour to go on dates with maybe three or four women. We have to select the candidates who match as many criteria as we can," said Anson.

Anson and Jessica spent several days picking out possibilities. Every time he saw a brunette with chestnut colored hair, though, he would invariably compare her with Jennifer. One time he saw a brunette whose face looked almost exactly like Jennifer's. He had to look twice at her to be sure it wasn't her. Then he looked down to her breasts. She had perfect bell shaped C's, just like Jennifer's....

********

Suddenly, Anson wasn't in his Paris hotel room with Jessica. He had been transported to another time and place, to a doctor's office in Lexington, Kentucky, with Jennifer.

Their first 30 years of marriage had been blissful. Anson worshiped her body, and Jennifer knew it. But Jennifer was always defensive about her breasts. Her nipples pointed outwards in different directions. "Cross-eyed", she called them with a laugh, but she always felt defensive about them.

And then over time Jennifer noticed how Anson looked at other womens' breasts, especially those who had larger ones than she did. She asked Anson if her breasts were large enough for him, and he always assured her that they were. But still, she saw him looking at others women's chests like they were magnets. If a woman with breasts larger than hers walked by them, during a conversation, it was a sure bet that Anson's eyes would follow her, even as he talked to Jennifer.

And she hated that. So after a while she decided she wanted to get an enlargement, from a B cup to a C cup. She announced it as something she wanted, rather than something she was doing for Anson. Anson asked if she was really sure she wanted it, but he didn't try at all to dissuade her, and it was obvious he was pleased.

Still, she was nervous about having the procedure done. There had been major advances in what had become known as Tittiology, a specialization of Gynecology, in the 25th century. Jennifer's Tittiologist assured her that the risks were minimal. Strategic portions of her breasts would be biofarmed to expand in new directions. The result would be 100% her own flesh. In the process, her "deviant nipple vision" would also be corrected, and both would point forwards, not outwards.

Anson remembered Jennifer laying on the examining table nervously, as Doctor Cumberpatch put holographic molds around Jennifer's breasts, to show what her new size would be. Anson and Jennifer had debated every curve together. Together, they had built Jennifer's breasts to their own specifications. In a way, Jennifer's new breasts were a distinct product of both of them. When they had arrived at a size and shape that made them both happy, Jennifer looked up at Anson and smiled, and he had smiled back at her. He always remembered that moment.

And then, when the time came to perform the procedure, he remembered Jennifer lying on an operating table. She looked very nervous as a big machine was wheeled in place above her. Anson was there, holding her hand reassuringly. He would always remember how she looked up at him, with her need for emotional support, as he held her hand. He had had to wear a lead apron to make sure that the rays from the device didn't cause him to grow breasts of his own.

And then Dr. Cumberpatch had asked, "Ready?" and Jennifer had nodded, and Dr. Cumberpatch went to his control station behind a lead-lined shield and the machine had started to hum. A bright light shown down on a portion of Jennifer's left breast. She gasped, not from pain, but from the unusual sensation.

And then, before their eyes, her breasts started to grow. The light was like a paintbrush, adding artistically, and Jennifer's breasts were a canvas. Both Jennifer and Anson had a tremendous bonding experience, as they watched the shape of Jennifer's breasts grow and develop.

And finally, when it was done, and the machine was turned off, and Jennifer sat up, Anson gasped.

"Do you like them?" said Jennifer anxiously, looking into a holomirror.

They were perfect. The cross-eyed nipples were now straight, giving 20/20 nipple vision, and her breasts were huge, and gorgeously bell shaped.

That night, Anson had let Jennifer know beyond a doubt how much he liked them, and after that, Jennifer noticed that Anson almost completely stopped looking at other womens' chests. It pleased her immensely.

********

"Anson? Anson?"

"What?" he said.

"I have a few more prospects," said Jessica. "I'm transmitting them to your datapad."

"Thanks."

********

They culled it down to 30 possibilities. There were many more than that, of course, but they stopped at 30.

Then Anson and Jessica started to conduct interviews. They explained to each of the women who they were representing, specifically, the third richest man on the planet Earth. They also warned each woman that Francisco Odour could be temperamental.

That didn't deter most of the women, who stopped paying close attention after learning they would be dating the third richest man on the planet.

And so Anson set Francisco up with his first date, Sheila MacKenzie.

It was a total disaster.

********

"Dumber than a door nail," Odour fumed, as they talked to him via holo, not thirty minutes after the end of his date.

"Mr. Odour, Sheila is a research biologist," said Anson.

"That may be," said Odour, "but she knows nothing about anything else. She has no life experience."

"She's over 200 years old," said Anson. (Cosmetically, she was only 26.)

"Then she hasn't learned anything in 200 years," said Odour. "That's sad for her, but it won't be sad for me, if you know what I mean."

Anson did. So he and Jessica got back to work finding another woman. They scrapped their original list of finalists and this time tried to find women who were smart in a worldly way. This time they found a woman named Abelyn Mueller who had been mayor of Munich, Germany for 20 years, and who was smart, educated, and had several degrees in the sciences and the arts. Anson and Jessica interviewed her. She should be able to handle any subject that Odour should throw at her, and she had an excellent personality.

********

They received another outraged call from Odour after his second date.

"What went wrong?" Anson asked. "Wasn't she interesting to talk to?"

"Yes, actually we hit it off quite well," said Odour. "She was smart, educated, wonderful in that way. In a sense she reminded me of my fourth wife, Abigail."

Anson knew that. He had modeled this second prospect after Abigail, after determining that she had been Odour's smartest and most educated lover. "So what went wrong?"

"She wouldn't put out!"

"Sir?"

"I tried to get into her pants, she rejected me!" said Odour.

"On a first date?" said Anson, giving a quick hand gesture for Jessica to be silent, when he caught her about to interject something.

"Yes! Can you believe it?"

"Well, Mr. Odour, not all women are willing to have sex on the first date."

"Come on, Anson! We're both men of the world! I looked up this woman's profile. She's had dozens of sex partners. She's 250 years old! For her, sex should be as controversial as brushing her teeth."

"Well, sir, perhaps you just didn't give it long enough. I'm confident if you gave her a second date-"

"No. She rejected me on the first date," said Odour. "Do you know what she said?"

"No sir."

"I tried to put my hands on her breasts, and she gave me a shocked expression and said, "Francisco, we've just met."

"Well, hadn't you?"

"We met two hours ago! We had established a total rapport! I am the third richest man on the planet! She should be begging for my touch. No," he said shaking his head. "I can see she's not going to be accommodating, not at all. She's not going to let me into her pants, not until she has a marriage contract all prepared. I've seen her type before."

"Mr. Odour, maybe if you just-"

"No, I said," said Odour firmly. "I told you this was a waste of time."

"We'll find someone else for you," said Anson.

Odour paused, thinking about it, then sighed. "All right. One more. The last one. Then I want you to pursue another line of inquiry, agreed?"

"Yes, sir," said Anson reluctantly.

The holoimage of Odour faded.

Anson looked at Jessica. "Can you believe him?"

"Yeah," said Jessica. "I know how he feels."

That surprised him. "You do?"

"Come on , Anson. I'm only 72 years old, and sex is old hat for me," said Jessica. "Imagine how it is for a woman who is 250 years old. It shouldn't require her a dozen dates to get into it! I completely understand what Odour is saying. If I had a trillion dollars and a man wasn't responsive to my overtures, I would dump him in a minute."

Anson looked at Jessica with an unreadable expression. Then he said, "Since you seem to have a better feel for his psychology, maybe you should pick the next candidate."

"All right, I will!" said Jessica, treating it as a challenge.

As Jessica got to work, Anson went back to his own datapad. For some reason, his mind seemed to stray from the established search parameters, and he started typing in a totally different search pattern, based on a distinct set of age, body type, geographic location, and other parameters he knew intimately well.

Within a moment, a short list of results came up. He recognized the third one immediately.

It was Jennifer.

Judith had told him that Jennifer was on the Circuit, but being told that Jennifer was on the Circuit, and actually seeing Jennifer on the Circuit were entirely different things. Her cover photo was a smiling nude, with everything exposed. Everything. The smile on her face was like the smile she had given him, every day, when they had been together, the smile she had given him when they first got up in the morning, and the smile when they went for a walk together, and then at dinner, and also when she was pleased, and also when--

Anson's mind skipped a beat and he suddenly noticed that Jennifer had 38 reviews. How many people had she slept with? And all of her reviews were five star ratings, all except one which was three stars. Anson clicked on the three star review of his former wife.

"Jennifer is very pretty, but she doesn't know how to bring a man properly to orgasm," said the anonymous rater. His comment filled Anson with rage. Jennifer was incredible in bed! She had always been very attentive to his needs and never set a foot on the floor until he had come at least once. What slander!

And then Anson looked at some of the five star reviews, but their glowing testimonials to sex with Jennifer didn't make him any happier. "Very hot body.... adorable blue eyes... moans in a sexy way when you come inside of her.. . eagerly lets you take her body and use her for your own pleasure.... "