Description: After the upheaval of the plague years and social unrest, some societies formed their own utopian ideals in order to maintain calm in a sea of uncertainty. The mysterious Jezebel Virus was brought under control in various ways, sometimes with authoritarian brutality. Many objected to this new world, yet many remain enslaved to it…

The golden light of sunset streamed through the classroom windows, reminding Mrs. Smith of memories she had missed for so long that she hadn’t even bothered to forget. Her brow pursed in mild consternation. It wouldn’t serve any purpose to dredge up uncomfortable things. She was happy looking over her class. The boys were almost all men now, studiously concentrating on their assignments. Mrs. Smith worked only part-time as an assistant teacher at this all-boys school, but she was proud of having helped bring many of them into their majority, as the New Scriptures allowed and directed.

Her short, golden locks shined in the light as she stood up to wipe down the chalkboard for the next lesson. As a foreign woman, this job was one of the few allowed her in the reclusive principality. She didn’t remember how long ago she had emigrated there, but it didn’t matter, did it? She shook her head once more, trying to clear it. A touch on her hip shocked her into dropping the eraser. The hairs on the back of her nape rose sharply as autonomic responses went through her body ­: blood warmed her pelvis and her heart beat faster.

Jared spoke into her ear, “You seem bothered, Mrs. Smith.” His other hand caressed her naked buttock. As was the law of the land, she wore no coverings on her pale form, not that she could anymore even if she desired.



“I was just thinking it was a lovely sunset, that’s all,” she lied, blushing. Her vagina was already dripping. “Did you need anything Jared?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Smith, but I felt an itch in my pants as I was finishing my assignment. I’d like to scratch it,” the young man said as his hands roamed the teacher’s nude body.

“Of course,” she turned her head to kiss him. She spoke louder for the class to hear, “Please take a fifteen minute self-study break students.” Jared unzipped and slipped his cock into her as she was pressed against the chalkboard. Jared had reached his majority only a few weeks before, so he was still inexperienced. It took much less than five minutes for him to climax, spending his seed inside of the moaning Mrs. Smith after a few minutes of desperate thrusting.

“Thank you for your service,” he intoned, zipping up his trousers after wiping his soiled cock onto her thigh and returning to his seat. He proceeded to open his book to a book marked page and focused on his memorization. Mrs. Smith wet her fingers and cleaned off the drying fluid as best she could.

The unsatisfied Mrs. Smith looked around to see if any other of her students wished to avail himself of her service, but they all ignored her. Sighing, she sat at her desk, splayed her legs and finished herself with her fingers. It didn’t feel as good, but it would have to do. Thankfully, as a member of the Invisibles, Mrs. Smith could be satisfied by the virile youth on a regular basis. She was happy to have brought nearly all of her class into manhood herself, teaching them the ways of the woman properly so that they can soon go forth to their futures, careers and potential wives with clear eyes and free of the temptation for the sins of the flesh.

* * *



Hot. It was too hot. She awoke with a start, sleek with sweat all over her body. Looking around, she saw that she had kicked away the blanket on the bed. The shutters were closed in the twilit room that was bare of furnishings except for the mattress, a chamber pot and small night stand with a carafe of water and a glass placed on it. She drank the water greedily, spilling much of it over her naked chest. Where were her clothes, she wondered? When she got up, she almost fell from dizziness.

Yes, she recalled. She had fallen ill with a fever. But where was this place? Where were her companions? She vaguely recalled friends. Fellow travelers. Memories started to return. She had travelled somewhere with friends, but had gotten into some trouble somehow. The rest was foggy.

Her body itched, especially her breasts and her genitals. Almost instinctively, her hands moved to scratch but she forced herself to stop. Wouldn’t that make it worse? She wondered. The tingling was almost unbearable. The dizziness forced her to lie down again.

She awoke again suddenly. Groaning, she felt the urge to pee. However, the door wouldn’t open. It was locked from the outside. She gave a confused cry and banged on the wooden surface. There was no immediate response. Looking around, she saw the chamber pot, scowled, but knelt over it to relieve herself. It burned as the urine came out. Her legs quivered at the sensation.

What was this feeling? She wondered again, collapsing on the bed once more. It was arousal, she realized in shock. Unable to help herself she began to masturbate furiously, rubbing her own engorged nipples until momentary relief came from the desperate climax. It was only a few minutes until the itchiness grew again. Her whole skin felt like it was fire now, sensitive to the slightest brush against any surface. The arousal grew in intensity until, before she realized what she was doing, she began to rub herself against the metal bedpost. She came again in a flurry of tiny orgasms.

Delirious, she lay on the bed in a mindless daze, using her hands and fingers to pleasure herself over and over again until she was too exhausted to move.

“More. I need more,” she croaked.

Someone opened the door and entered to survey the scene. It was a veiled woman in a homespun dress that covered her from head to toe in heavy fabric. Her hands were gloved. The woman had brought a fresh container of water.

“Ah. You’ve hit the peak now. Here drink more of this to re hydrate. It’s all right. The hard part is over. Now, come’s the true release.” Gently the woman looked over the patient, examining the status of her swollen genitalia. Nodding in satisfaction, she waved in another person.

The dark figure was a naked man with a giant, swollen proboscis. The panting woman on the bed saw him, her eyes widened, not in fear, but with the flames of pure desire. Drooling, she gobbled up the man’s cock with an insatiable fervor, as if this was the only nourishment she now, or ever, needed.

* * *



Mrs. Smith was one of a small class of Invisibles allowed to enter the more exclusive districts. When not attending to her students, she made various rounds around the town, servicing as need be, but specializing in an elite group of merchants and businessmen who appreciated her exotic looks. The majority of the people in the region were of stocky build and black or brown hair. Northerners were rare, so her hair of spun gold and creamy skin held an attraction.

When she showed her metal cuff on her wrist, the guards waved her into the quarter. The streets there were much quieter and swept clean. She passed shops that sold fancy brands from all over the world, including her supposed homeland. Since Invisibles bore no money, the cost of the items were meaningless for her except as gifts. Even though she had her own room, she held to an unspoken rule among the Invisibles not to express too much individuality, so she did not keep the more elaborate or expensive items. It was one of their modest efforts at solidarity, as a society of those equally deprived of any real say in their futures. Not that some Invisibles did not indulge themselves in everything besides fancy clothes, although some collected them anyways as keepsakes.

Invisibles who could no longer serve were sent to convents to live the remainder of their lives in repentance. Once past menopause, the Jezebel virus lost its efficacy, becoming dormant, as the barren women no longer had any need or interest in sex. They then donned the special habits that marked their origin. Some served as Mothers, helping to train the next generation of Invisibles.

A small percentage were taken in as wives and given a genomic treatment to re-code the Jezebel virus but even that did not fully remove all its effects. Mrs. Smith did not really hope for any such thing. There was security in being an Invisible, as all things were taken care of for her in terms of living. Even in this quarter, she could dine, rest, or shop for free. Invisibles were an underclass that lived in a special grey area between being outright slaves and yet being almost revered as special servants of the land. The New Scriptures forbade the harming of any Invisible. In the extremely rare case an Invisible demurred from a service contract, her wishes must be accepted on penalty of death.

“Ah, Mrs. Smith, it’s good to see you again,” the street sweeper usually spotted her as she came through the gate. He had memorized her routine so he made sure to be working on that side of the quarter on the days she visited.

“What would you like today, Ichabod?” she took his arm as he set aside his broom for the moment. He’d already washed his hands in anticipation, so he grasped her buttocks right away. She found a convenient stoop to raise a leg onto, and he proceeded to finger her.

Kissing her on the lips, the old gent said, “Ah, anything is fine, but I have to be on the west side to help clean up a lorry accident so maybe just by the mouth, right here. Sorry we can’t go to the usual spot.”

“That’s ok, Ichabod, it was nice of your to worry,” Mrs. Smith had a hand bag she used to keep certain useful items for moments such as this. She pulled out a cushion and placed it on the concrete sidewalk. Passerby courteously gave them space by walking around the stoop they had paused at.

Mrs. Smith gave the man a quick and expert blow job on the spot. Her eyes glittered in pleasure up at the man’s grizzled face as he moaned in satisfaction. As his warm member slipped down her throat, Mrs. Smith had a sudden bout of déjà vu. Of course, after having sucked countless dicks in the same position, it would be inevitable that it would all blur together, but a shiver went up her spine as an old memory floated back. The hooded woman had opened up the shutters to let in more light back then, and the sunlight had finally shone onto their naked forms as she had been ministering a muscular man with a massive, veined cock. She’d looked up in awe, surprised at how easily the thing had slipped down her gullet, as her saliva drooled out of her mouth much as it was doing now. It had felt wonderful. It felt wonderful. Her cheeks flushed from excitement. A part of her knew that the feeling was due to the Jezebel virus, she was aware of that much, yet her desire seemed entirely her own, both at the moment of that old memory, and now, as the warmth spread throughout her body.

“Ichabod. I just love your cock,” she said in delight. “I want your delicious semen right now. I want it all.”

His cheeks red, Ichabod couldn’t help himself but comply, thrusting his dick down her throat as it ejaculated in a steady stream. He gaped in satisfaction as the orgasm crested.

“That’s just what I needed,” Mrs. Smith crooned, licking her lips. Her tongue begged for more as it flicked at the tip of his glans, but he was sensitive now and he put it back under the folds of his trousers.

“Thank you for your service, Mrs. Smith. Exceptional as ever,” he panted, wiping sweat from his brow. She put away her cushion and was helped up by the sweeper. She gave him a peck and he gave her a farewell rub on the butt to send her along.

“See you next week, Ichabod. Next time, I want you inside me,” she winked.

It was fortunate that it hadn’t taken so long to take care of Ichabod, since she didn’t want to run late for her next appointment. The maid was expecting her so she was let in the servant entrance at the back of the estate without much delay. The master of the house was a wealthy accountant who liked to take his time so she liked make sure he was fulfilled before the day got too late, otherwise she’d miss her afternoon tea. The little get together was one of her special treats where she could relax with Invisible compatriots. Missing it would sour her week.

As she made her way up to the bed chambers, she passed the head wife, who clucked at her in disdain. Most wives appreciated the usefulness of the Invisible class, but some, such as this one, still held a bit of jealous resentment. She couldn’t help but remark in passing, “Make sure not to dawdle. I don’t like the smell of a used condom stinking up the place.” Such barbs did not hurt Mrs. Smith, as she knew she could report the lady for her harassment. However, Mrs. Smith wasn’t one to hold a grudge, and the paperwork involved was a hassle. She simply nodded politely in response, but the woman was not appeased. Instead the elder woman was visibly angry that she never got a rise from the placid Mrs. Smith.

Before anything else, even more harmful, could be said, Mrs. Smith walked quickly to the bedroom. As usual, the master of the house kept her for conversation for quite a while before attending to business. It was clear that he was a lonely man who didn’t have many confidants, especially the wives. Mrs. Smith tolerated it, but preferred her other clients who kept things quick and simple.

“I wonder where Mr. Smith resides these days,” the portly man said as he nuzzled her breasts. Mrs. Smith had to admit that at least he took care in his foreplay. Many men took her without bothering to please, not that it mattered for the most part. Still, it was nice when he gently stroked her, nibbling on her sensitive areas with the familiarity of a long-time lover.

“You know there isn’t one. Mrs. Smith is an affectation I took on when I became an Invisible,” she murmured as the pleasurable sensations washed over her body. His tongue was teasing her successfully.

“Then, you can marry me and join my household. I have some pull with the government. They can approve the treatment to cure the disease and you would be able to wear all the fabulous clothes I’d buy for you, my angel.”

“But I love how I live now. I don’t think I could settle with one man ever again. Besides, it doesn’t really feel like a disease anymore. As long as there is always a willing partner, I feel healthier than I ever did. You’d be amazed at much better the world tastes and smells, as well. It’s like everything good has been amplified.”

“Isn’t that the virus talking? Perhaps you’d feel differently after the treatment…”

“My mind is my own, even if my body has been taken over by the virus. The fact is that I am happier here than when I was back in my original home. I went through many hardships during the wars.”

“Would you ever go back, if you could?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t be welcomed. What I am now is considered a curse there, and I’d be shipped to one of the camps. Even though there is a vaccine, many believe that the virus can be spread by simple contact. Ignorance is widespread.”

“Ah. So you do know a lot about your homeland. All the times previous, you claimed to have forgotten much of it.”

“I’d rather not remember. I came to this land in order to forget, in the first place. Enough with this talk, can we fuck now?”

“How inelegant that sounds from your lovely lips, my dear,” he said without rancor. He let her slide on top of him. Savoring the contact, she ground slowly to extend the gradual rise to climax as long as possible. The accountant squeezed the cheeks of her rump together just the way she liked it so that the pressure of her vagina against his member was increased. They held the moment for as long as possible, kissing, as the waves of pleasure intensified until both of them convulsed at the same time.

“You’re the best, my lovely. Will you ever tell me your first name?” he panted as she lay on top of him.

He felt her head shake from where it was buried in his shoulder. She said, “I am only Mrs. Smith.”





* * *





After the initial encounter with the man who finally sated, for a moment anyway, her burning desire, the woman was trained for the next few days by two different men who taught her the ways of intercourse. They limited the number of sessions so that she was constantly feeling moderately deprived. At night, she masturbated on her own as her arousal seemed endless. Each time she heard the door open, she had an autonomic response, getting wet immediately. Soon, another, experienced, Invisible also joined them for the sessions. She balked at first, but her sexual hunger was so fierce it did not take long that she was adept at making love to both men and women at the same time. The touch of skin on skin calmed her and allowed her some relief from the hot itchiness. At that point, she was moved from the solitary room to a dormitory where she ate and slept with a dozen other Invisibles in training.

She missed the one-on-one sessions, but soon made friends with the other women. They went through a routine of exercise, instruction by a veiled matron who lectured them on self-care and maintenance, and sex with both male and female instructors. At night, they slept together in a large pile, pleasing each other when necessary. They still required an infusion of male semen in order to truly calm the irritation, so at morning and at evening, a pair of well-endowed men would arrive to service them all as a group. Their favorite was a massive fellow nicknamed Big Jim, although his name wasn’t Jim. The girls would flock to him whenever he walked into the common room, his rod always stiff and ready.

In fact, his ability to hold an erection and produce copious amounts of seminal fluid amazed them all. He was also a very affable fellow despite his brutish appearance. It was difficult for him to leave, as the girls entreated him to stay and cuddle. Sometimes, whoever ran the training center allowed him to stay the night, much to everyone’s delight.

She was sharing Big Jim’s cock with another girl one day when she noticed something familiar about the other woman. Her memories had never gone away, but she had reserved them from consciousness during her period of fever and training. It had been pleasant to live day by day, but she knew she would have to face some of the thoughts that had been buried for the past few weeks.

Here, in this place, they had been given new names. The other woman was called Sophie by the trainers. The women had gradually settled into ranks based on their proclivities. Those with robust physiques and unquenchable desire were destined for service in the military or in brothel houses where demands were high. Some were attached to major construction projects or merchant associations. On the other end, those with high social skills, charisma and delicate demeanors were trained as courtesans for the elite or as assistants to the heads of major organizations, both civic and private. Sophie was destined to be placed somewhere in the middle, as was the woman who currently stopped in mid-fellatio.

“It’s you. Josephine,” the woman said, finally. She absently licked the drool trickling down the shaft of the penis.

The other woman paused from her own activity. A wry grin crossed her face as she replied, “I was wondering when you’d recognize me.”

* * *





When the Council of Elders gathered to discuss the next elections and how they would stand on the various issues, their wives met in an adjacent room to play cards and gossip. They also discussed the future and their part in influencing it. Vaccinated against the Jezebel Virus, the women chatted comfortably with an air of superiority, comparing their fortunes to each other with beaded eyes.

“The loyalists want to open up the frontier even more, but I’m not sure that is a good idea,” spoke one of the matrons. She was fully decked out in cosmetics, jewels and the latest fashions. In the private drawing room, all the women could relax with their hair down and impress each other with their expensive endowments.

A maid kept their plates and cups filled with the finest refreshments. She curtseyed and left through the servant’s entrance once they seemed satisfied for the moment. They gossiped about how the woman was a rescue from a mission.

One piped, “The girl should be more thankful that she isn’t in a training studio.” They all nodded in agreement.

“True, but my husband has heard that there is an impending shortage of labor due to the rapid growth in the South. I know it’s difficult to have to deal with heathen devils all the time, but we’re running out of good servants,” said a white painted matron with heavy gold earrings.

“My household has turned to using Invisibles exclusively. The menfolk love it of course, which is fine by me because it relieves me of having to manage the harem all the time. I must say that Invisibles are inherently more docile than any foreign maid can ever be.”

“What a coincidence! I was advising my own husband to pass the new legislation on nationalizing brothels and service houses in order to expand the Invisible ranks even more. With stricter border laws, immigrants who break the law would be automatically indentured. The Free District is crawling with them at the moment. Disgusting.”

“If the law passes, it will be good news. My house specializes in Invisible administration and training. The demand will require an expansion of our facilities, perhaps we’ll need to buy that property out in the highlands. I’ve been admiring it dearly for the delightful weather, but there is land that can be turned into an excellent equestrian park as well.” She clapped in delight.

“My husband’s birthday is coming up, do you have anything fresh that you recommend? A virgin, perhaps?” another asked her.

“Hm. No, as you should know, a virgin Invisible is an oxymoron as they are useless–much too focused on getting themselves satisfied not their patron, without proper training. If your husband wishes to sign on as a trainer, we can make some adjustments, but the Council frowns on such exemptions. It wouldn’t be good on his record. I heard we do have something fresh and feisty. Perfectly plump and pretty with only a couple of our finest trainers to get her in the proper shape,” she leered. “Besides, you can get a virgin the old fashioned way in the market. I can have the Invisible delivered on the evening of your choice. I suggest he take leave of work the next morning because this one is supposed to be rather insatiable.”

“The servant boys can have her afterwards,” the other matron shrugged as she picked another card from the table. “Virgins are too costly anyways, and terrible in bed.”

“Oh,” the other perked up her nose, bemused. “Who was the virgin?”

The woman blushed and changed the subject.

The matrons chattered happily about their prospects well into the evening.

* * *





As Mrs. Smith strode into the Free District, she got the loan of an umbrella from a street vendor. The sun was out in force and she wanted to protect her pale skin in the open patios of the markets. People respectfully let her pass, although the occasional hand came out to grope her as she entered the throng of shoppers and yelling merchants. It wasn’t a particularly busy day, but it was easy to recognize the tourists who gawked at Mrs. Smith openly while the merchants paid her little heed.

She sampled some fried pastries in exchange for allowing the vendor a quick fingering of her pussy. His stubby digits plunged inside as he teased her clitoris with his thumb. She thanked him after shivering from a quick climax and continued to her favorite café and settled into her usual spot. Mrs. Smith pulled a cloth from her handbag and checked her labia for cleanliness. Satisfied, she ordered her usual from the waitress. The drink came free, as required by law.

A group of four foreign women were sitting at a table not far from where Mrs. Smith relaxed. Instinct told her that they would interrupt her rare treat of the day away from her usual rounds. Something about their poise and the cut of their outfits reminded her of unpleasant memories. It didn’t take long for one to rise up and walk over to where she sat as she finished her favorite crumbly cake dessert.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but this is our first time meeting an Invisible,” the earnest young woman offered as she approached clutching her bag with an irritating obsequiousness. “We wanted to ask some questions.”

Mrs. Smith sighed, but answered, “Of course. As long as it does not interrupt my duties.”

“Certainly. That was our question, about your duties and how you felt about them.”

Raising an eyebrow, Mrs. Smith leaned back, unfolding her legs in a way that must have been unseemly to the other women. They blushed, but the whole group clustered around her table.

The mousy woman with tightly wound hair and thick glasses chirped, “Yes, do you ever get tired of so much attention?”

“No more than the attention I am receiving now,” she replied coolly.

“Forgive my sisters,” the first woman said. “My name is Gillian. This is Josephine, she’s rather impetuous. The others are Caroline and Anabelle.” She pointed to the remaining two who had been holding back. Mrs. Smith noted that they were exceptionally endowed, even by her own standards.

“Is it true that you can’t wear clothes?” Josephine pestered.

“Yes, both by law and for comfort. Fabric itches terribly and is bad for my skin unless it has been specially treated. Leather, wood and metals don’t cause a reaction, so there are ways around the limitation. However, it’s simply more comfortable this way.”

Gillian asked, eyes ablaze, “How do you feel about being debased? Do you believe as the others who think that the sins of Man can be absolved by the flesh of your sacrifice? Can such sacrilege stand in a just world?”

The familiar words made Mrs. Smith turn cold inside. The blood drained from her face but the others did not seem to notice. She stammered, “I am myself, as I wish to be.”

“But that is a lie enforced by the demonic virus and by a corrupt society!” the other hissed. Her compatriots nodded.

Mrs. Smith looked around, “Although this is the Free District, I suggest not making such pronouncements in public. The laws are strict here.” Some part of her old self sympathized with the four women, their conviction, and their youthful innocence; however, she didn’t waver in her own certitude. She warned, “I am wholly myself. You cannot judge without having walked in my shoes.”





* * *





Excerpt from a redacted wiki article, origin unknown, time-stamp scrambled and heavily edited: The source of the so-called Jezebel virus was never determined, although the complexity of the gene-tailored phage usually suggested a state actor. However, the specific nature of the plague indicated to some of [redacted] that a specific group with access to the latest [redacted] technologies created the virus for their own agenda. By the time the nature of the virus became widely known, it had infected almost 20 percent of the world’s female population. This specificity immediately suggested that the virus was a bioweapon, carefully crafted to target certain phenotypes and morphological expressions that was so fine-grained that it was clear to [redacted][redacted]. Edited by Anonymous on [redacted]. In the ensuing turmoil, a large part of the Indian subcontinent became uninhabitable due to radiation (this event occurred due an unfounded rumor that the virus was developed by a radical Hindi sect, inflaming the already bitter rivalries of the region), many borders were closed to international travel, radical conservative religious movements became even more radicalized, while other nations rallied to form the [redacted]. Fortunately, the Federated States and the former EU states joined forces to establish a comprehensive policy to deal with the new order and rapid development of countermeasures, including a workable treatment to reverse the effects of the virus. There are some experts who have posited counter-arguments indicating that the treatment is in fact [redacted]. Some nations reverted to isolationism, treating the infected as pariahs that needed to be quarantined or brutally eliminated. Others found ways of dealing with the issue in humane ways, even revamping their societies to find new modes of co-existence. The Federated States developed a set of Free Sex policies while others established a social class called the Invisibles, a sort of Emperor’s New Clothes approach to dealing with the issue. Still, radical groups of all stripes still engage in a guerilla — [eof]





* * *





Citizen and Invisible alike were expected to obey the will of the Law-Keepers. Their ranks included both men and women who joined to uphold the morals of the land. Certain vices were overlooked in the Free Quarter, but the Keepers still made examples of some in order to show who ran things in the city.

Currently, the pale faces of the four tourist women were frozen in shock as Mrs. Smith was made to lie face down on their table with her legs spread for all to view. One of the Keepers used her gloved hand to part Mrs. Smith’s buttocks so that a prod could be inserted into her anus.

“Does this answer your question, outsider?” the Keeper asked, mockingly.

The one named Gillian stammered, “I apologize. I was just curious. Don’t punish her for our error.”

“Oh. Mrs. Smith, do you consider this a punishment?”

Mrs. Smith shook her head, replying, “Not at all. I enjoy when people watch. You can touch as well.” She beckoned to the tourists.

“Go ahead. Touch her. Invisibles love the attention,” the Keeper said. The group didn’t move. Another Law-Keeper, a man, reached over and thrust his digits deep into Mrs. Smith who moaned her approval.

Gillian regretted her decision to interact with the Invisible. As she had talked to Mrs. Smith, she had realized the woman was so thoroughly indoctrinated that any of her advice or suggestions about escape from this life was met with stony indifference. She cursed the power of the Jezebel virus and its detestable makers.

“Don’t you see that you have become a puppet who has been stripped of all dignity?” She had harangued Mrs. Smith.

“Whether that is true or not, I don’t feel shackled. I won’t argue that I am free, but I live and enjoy life as I please, for the most part.”

“So you’d humiliate yourself for all to see without question? You are content with being a plaything that can be toyed with anywhere? You’d even allow yourself to be fucked here in public?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Smith replied without any sign of distress or anger in her manner. She calmly finished her snack.

That’s when the Law-Keepers had announced themselves. The hooded female in her robe and tabard had spoken first, “Although you are guests, we do not appreciate our citizens being proselytized to by outsiders. You will observe as I give you a demonstration of her willingness.”

The girl with glasses actually seemed fascinated as they were made to observe Mrs. Smith undergo a thorough examination before the Law-Keepers waved some passerby to attend to her needs. A shopkeeper was happy to oblige, pulling out his cock and mounting Mrs. Smith right there. Gillian covered her eyes, muttering a prayer.

“Josephine, how could you?” Anabelle said, shocked. Their seemingly shy friend had reached out to caress Mrs. Smith’s face and then her aroused nipples.

“It’s just amazing, though. Do you see how she glows? I’ve never felt my own nips ever get that hard.”

The fourth tourist, Caroline, also seemed mesmerized by what they were witnessing as yet another man took his turn with Mrs. Smith who indeed glowed with sheer passion.

Gillian hissed at them under her breath, alarmed at the jeopardy to their souls. She should have known that they were too weak, susceptible to temptation in this foreign land. She’d argued with her seniors against them being allowed to come along, but she had been overruled.

The female Law-Keeper pronounced to them, “It’s God’s will that she joined the ranks of the Invisible. See how she loves to serve? It is His special dispensation to them in His great mercy. We, however, are not so generous. You will come with us to receive judgment for the spreading of heresy and promotion of foreign ideology.”

“Wait! That’s a lie. All I did was ask her some questions!”

“The invisible cannot lie. What did the foreigner say to you earlier?”

Mrs. Smith tried to formulate a response while being fucked by a third, enthusiastic man, “She said that the true path to God’s grace was impossible while under the spell of the Jezebel virus. I used to be a Neo-Reformist myself, so recognize her form of dress and speech. She too has the eyes of a true believer, as I once was. Oh my, that dick feels great. If you don’t need me anymore, I’d like to have one in my mouth as well, please.” Another onlooker moved forward to oblige. By this time a small throng had gathered to observe the impromptu gang-bang.

“Oh, that’s certainly enough cause for us to have their belongings searched.” The Law-Keepers rifled through their hand-bags despite their protestations. One of their bags spilled its contents: several pamphlets with Neo-Reformist Christian teachings.

Gillian’s stomach grew tight with fear as the Law-Keeper raised the contraband up in triumph. Her eyes filled with tears, not for her own plight, but for her lost Sister. She cried, “How cruel, harlot, that you were once one of us! You know not what you have done!”

Mrs. Smith paused long enough from sucking the throbbing, veined, man-snake in front of her face to reply, “Oh, I know exactly what I am doing. It’s really annoying when people keep blaming the virus for what I do of my own will. With luck, you too will be enlightened by real grace.”

With that last word, the four missionaries were hauled off in chains.





* * *





“You look different without your glasses,” Gillian said, grabbing Jim’s cock by the base and massaging it.

“It’s the miracle of the Jezebel virus. My eyesight is almost perfect now.” Sophie, once known as Josephine, examined the throbbing member as she curled her tongue around the sensitive frenulum. Big Jim groaned in pleasure.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Gillian asked, a bit of her old bitterness still remaining. Big Jim was half asleep but he wasn’t paying heed to their conversation as he was busy pleasing another girl who was straddling his face.

“I guess so. As a virgin who seemed doomed to become a spinster, I was secretly hoping for something like this,” she licked the pre-cum seeping from Jim’s penis tip.

“Do you know where the others are?”

“No. They are probably in another training facility. To be honest, they were the best looking out of us, so they probably went to some place for fancy, elite service. Even us animals aren’t quite equal. It doesn’t bother me. Guys like Big Jim seem happy enough with me. Have you settled on a new name?”

Gillian shook her head, “No. I’m insisting on keeping mine. I am myself, even in this degenerate state.”

Sophie sighed, “How will you enter general service with that attitude?”

Another girl wormed her head between Gillian’s legs, causing her to pause for a moment as she winced at the intense sensation of the other’s tongue on her clitoris. “A part of me still thinks this is a sin, but it feels too good to stop anymore. It’s that damned virus. Yet, I still feel like myself.”

When they had been arrested, sometime during their imprisonment, they had been injected with the virus. Gillian didn’t remember much after that, except bits and pieces of being carried somewhere, given strange things to drink. Voices filled her head, making it hurt. So she avoided the thoughts, throwing herself into the pleasure instead. She knew it was a trick, probably some kind of implanted hypnotic suggestion, but she didn’t have the willpower to fight it.

“We can still get out of here,” she said, without much hope.

“Where would we go? We’ve been abandoned by our consulate. If we try to go back, you know what will happen to fallen apostles, right?”

Gillian put her head down on Jim’s thigh in acknowledgment, “Yes, I knew that as soon as they arrested us. We knew the risks when we signed up for the mission, but I guess I was too naïve. I didn’t think we’d get caught so quickly.”

“When the training is done, they’ll assign us to our final destinations. I’ve always wanted to travel, so I hear there is a special merchant service. They send us along on the sea or on long haul transports to keep them flowing smoothly, if you know what I mean.”

“The best thing is to go along, until they release us on our own, then try to find a place to get the treatment. There are rebel factions working out in the outlands who may help us,” Gillian whispered.

Sophie sighed, shaking her head in exasperation, as she climbed onto Jim’s cock. The look of satisfaction on her face as she rode it still shocked Gillian. Sophie said, “I feel sorry for you Gil. You still haven’t shaken off your old self. The matron’s here are right. Accept God’s grace. He has given you a gift. We can spread that gift with our loins. I’ll tell them you still need a bit more good fucking before you will come around.”

“Damn it! Jo! Don’t sell me out,” she pleaded. “I have to have some hope.”

“I don’t know what hope you’re looking for, but OK. I won’t tell right away, but promise me you’ll try to enjoy yourself. Just let go, then you’ll be free.” Josephine bucked harder as she worked herself to a climax. “Oh, thank you God!”

Gillian anxiously awaited her turn, despite herself. As she rode his still stiff member, the passion flooded her mind and body once more, wiping out all her doubts with the clarity of pure lust. After a while, she had forgotten the conversation. She cuddled with Sophie, who kissed her and stroked her softly on the head. “There, there. Soon, you’ll get the hang of things, just like I did.”





* * *





Excerpt from a message board thread on a blocked domain: Anon-1138: so you’re saying the treatment doesn’t work. [username deleted]: [message deleted] Anon-1138: I see, so the treatment is a placebo, but I don’t get it. Why? [username deleted]: [message deleted] Anon-1138: “The Jezebel virus itself is eventually defeated by the host’s own immune system, within a few months of initial exposure, the virus itself is no longer present in the blood stream.” So, why do the patients still retain symptoms of the disease, including hyper-sexuality, hormone responses, etc. [username deleted]: [message deleted] Anon-1138: OK, this shit is too important for just this discussion. More people should know about this. I’m going to repost it to other forums with your permission. The following text should be sufficient: “The fact that the virus only affected 20% of the population is a lie. Think more like over half, if not greater. Note, the virus only expresses itself under certain conditions based on the host. Most subjects get a slight fever and nothing more. Millions thought they just had a seasonal flu, and that’s that. And even when someone gets the full blown HSIDS, the effects of the syndrome diminish quickly and the subjects return to normal life without any long term effects, usually within sixty days. However, it’s a pretty insidious little monster: it re-codes itself into the host’s genes and lies dormant, so it can pass itself into offspring as a time bomb. Little is known how it may express itself later when they pass puberty. We’ll know in a few more years. Most of the infamous expressions of the virus require social indoctrination on subjects who are predisposed psychologically for this type of suggestion. It’s too complex for me to understand myself, I’m just recounting what I picked up from the [redacted] when I attended a few weeks ago. Basically, most of its long term effects are psychosomatic, not based on any kind of parasitic toxoplasmosis-like mind control bullshit. That’s just an excuse to make people believe they lost control of themselves. That’s why the treatment is just a placebo. It won’t work on subjects who are really hooked on their lifestyle. A psycho-therapy regime would probably be best, to wean them of the dependency formed over the initial period of manic hyper-sexuality. Like any other addiction, it’s just a process….”[eof]





* * *





Gillian soon advanced to more specialized classes. Her deportment had impressed the trainers. Despite herself, she felt pleased as they introduced her to her new Mother who would further instruct her in the etiquette of a freelance Invisible.

The portly Mother was dressed in thick robes but did not seem distressed by the heat even though Gillian herself sheened with sweat all over her nude flesh. They were alone in the Mother’s private room. An overhead fan stirred the humid air but did not mitigate the temperature. For the first time in weeks, Gillian could see outdoors through the louvered window. It was all bright light and shadows. The Mother sat on a stool while Gillian stood with her hands behind her back, chest thrust forward. She wore a collar but was otherwise unfettered. At this point, they trusted that she would not bolt. They knew she had nowhere to go. An Invisible without special pass emblems or cuffs could not travel far. Their nudity made it impossible for them to blend in anywhere except in a brothel or harem.

The Mother spoke in a clear, cheerful voice, “Congratulations. Your command of language and social discourse means you’d make a fine courtesan, except that it’s quite difficult to enter those ranks. I’m not denying that you are quite fair or that your physical abilities are exceptional. All your trainers have given you top marks. Alas, it is not to be. All the openings have been taken this year and probably for the next few. However, going freelance has many privileges that I hope—on my honor—that you do not abuse. It will mean you will be able to operate in a jurisdiction of your own choosing and you may choose your own clients. The benefits also will mean that you can eventually choose a career that will prove worthwhile beyond your initial service, however long that may end up lasting. You won’t live in the lavish grandeur of a true courtesan, but it will be a comfortable retirement.”

“How long did it take you, Mother?” Gillian asked with genuine curiosity.

“I chose to become a Mother rather early, not that I was in any rush to quit the service. Honestly, I did well enough, but my physique was not in high demand as others, hence I learned to expand my horizons. It pleases me to bring new recruits into their true selves. I see that you still balk at that statement,” said the Mother, amusement in her voice.

Indeed, Gillian could not help but flash a bit of disdain at the elder woman’s remarks. The Mother stood up abruptly, tapping a wooden switch into the palm of her other hand. She walked around the suddenly tense Gillian. Delicately, she used the switch to mark parts of Gillian’s body. Gillian shivered.

“Fortunately, I’m one to prefer a gentle approach to education, rather than punishment. Not that I have ever hesitated on those that seem to require, or even desire, such measures. However, once you are on your own, the Law-Keepers will not be lenient if they sense any suggestion of heresy. Now, bend over.”

Gillian complied, her face red with embarrassment and resentment.

The Mother picked out a device from an assortment hung on pegs along one wall of the small room. It was a metal dildo attached to a comfortable grip. She flipped a switch to turn on its vibration function and used it to tease Gillian whose body responded automatically to the sensation.

Before Gillian could reach climax, the Mother expertly removed the device. She smacked her gloved hand onto the sweating young woman’s swollen clitoris. She yelped.

“If you want to cum, ask me politely.”

Grimacing with desire, Gillian begged, “Please, Mother. I want to cum.”

“Louder. You’re asking for my grace, remember.”

“Please! May I cum? Please give me release, Mother.”

“Good. As I grant you the release you so desire, focus your mind on the pure light that conjoins you with your salvation. Repeat the mantra,” the Mother nearly whispered as she leaned forward, pushing the vibrator deep into Gillian’s vagina.

Gillian arched her back in pleasure. She shook as the climax turned her world white yet managed to shout the mantra, “With Love I receive, so I give love in return. By thy Holy Grace, I am one with the Lord.” In her own mind, she added her own expressions of disgust and shame for the heresy, but kept that rejection to herself. In the small hours of the night, she still begged for forgiveness, yet, recently, those pleas had grown ever shorter, ever quieter in her own mind.

“I still sense that you are holding back, young one. Soon, you will be a true sister of the flesh. For now, you will accompany me on your first walk outside as your new self.”

Gillian’s heart leapt with fear. Go outside? Shame shook her to the core despite the weeks of debauchery. She still held some shred of reserve in her mind, but going into the world as she was now would shatter whatever illusion of dignity her old self still held on to in her own mind. She almost shook her head, but knew enough to hold it back.

The Mother took a light chain and hooked it to her collar, “This is more for your sake, than any worry of escape. It lets others know that you are my charge and not to be touched, solicited, or entreated except by my sole permission. As a freelancer, you can take on a temporary master but cannot do so permanently. You are a servant to the people.”

“But if you do give permission…”

“Then you must obey. Put your trust in me, I will not test you beyond what I believe your limits are. However, remember that punishment may be swift, if I sense anything contrary to Law or proper deportment.”

Gillian knew well enough to only reply with a nod to head and a quick, “Yes, Mother.”

Goosebumps rose on her flesh as she was lead out the door, down the hallway and into the courtyard. It was strange to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin again. Although she forced herself to keep her composure, her eyes darted around with skittish energy. Her loins were again awash with desire, despite her attempts to quench the burning thirst. Walking was almost a relief, as the humid air slipped across her flesh. The Mother pulled her along until they left the quiet space and entered the street proper, bustling with mid-day traffic. Only a few eyes turned her way with any semblance of curiosity, yet she blushed. This was much different than the cozy rooms where she had shared her body with so many others already. At least those places had been dim or softly lit, almost dreamlike. Here in the din and harsh light of the outside, she realized how exposed and vulnerable she truly was.

She numbly stared at her own raised nipples and fiery pink aureola.

Within a few minutes, as they walked casually down the street to a different part of the city, she had calmed somewhat. She wasn’t the only Invisible walking the street. The sheer nonchalance of the populace had put her somewhat at ease. No one turned to point or even stare except for mild interest, some lustful but no more than she had experienced as a regular citizen. The lecherous eyes were same regardless, the indifferent ones identical to ones in any other borough or metropolis. Another problem came to light, however. As they walked, it couldn’t be helped that she was accidentally bumped or brushed by others as they navigated the sidewalk, now getting more populated as they entered a market area where shoppers and traders thronged. Each touch sent her mind reeling with desire. They had woken her that morning without her usual service being administered. She had suspected the reason, but now knew why quite clearly.

The Mother eyed her, but did not remark at the redness on her neck, the licking of her lips, or the trembling in her legs.

They paused at a stall selling cheap curios. The merchant recognized the Mother, “Ah, a fresh student I see. She looks ripe.” He raised a curious eyebrow but did not make his interest too obvious.

“Not quite. I like to keep them on the vine a litter longer,” the Mother smirked. The merchant didn’t seem displeased, as he mostly likely fully expected to have a taste another day, if not this one.

“Of course, perhaps a gold pendant? A collectible tag for body piercings?” He suggested.

“We’ll be coming through again soon, so I may suggest a piercing for our fledgling at that time,” the Mother said. The merchant turned to assist a different customer.

“Where are we going, may I ask?” Gillian finally spoke.

“The slave market. Don’t worry, I won’t put you up for auction. It’s just a taste to see how others fare. I assure you, you are already slated to be a freelancer, not some harem girl or indentured house maid. You’re quite fortunate, not that their lives are that terrible. Only certified buyers can take an Invisible for their household retinue. They can still sue for re-assignment if they do not get along with their masters.”

Gillian almost snorted, but she restrained herself. Someone’s hand brushed her rear, which inflamed two conflicting emotions within her. She tried to find the culprit, but he had already disappeared into the crowd.

The Mother’s sharp eyes hadn’t missed her reaction, “It comes with the territory I’m afraid. However, if a Law-Keeper is nearby, don’t hesitate to call for one if you feel abused. Sometimes they can catch the offender and give them a good lashing, but as you can see it can be difficult to identify all the miscreants. This is part of your training.”

Gillian nodded, “Of course. It’s no worse than what happens where I come from, in that aspect. Though I wished I could carry a weapon.”

“The most trusted Invisibles are allowed to carry a purse or thigh strap with devices of their choosing, ostensibly for rough sex play but it’s not unheard of for some to wield knives or electrified batons, or worse. There are regions with less enforcement or districts where it is not advised for any normal citizen, regardless of being an Invisible, to enter without danger of being robbed, assaulted or murdered. However, I assure you the city proper is quite safe. Come along.”

They soon reached a part of the city where the type of shops changed. Gillian looked around, realizing that they all were related to her current trade. There were more Invisibles walking around, most being pulled along by their own chains, some with heavy iron collars instead of the thin, leather one around her own neck. A few Invisibles were walking by themselves without any obvious master. A troupe of a dozen Invisibles were lashed together by their necks and were being hurried along by a minder with a wide hat and long whip.

“Is that really necessary?” Gillian grimaced, appalled by the sight.

The Mother replied coolly, “It’s mostly for show around here. The masters love to parade about with their collections. It’s a type of social dominance, I’m afraid. Let’s go, the place I want to visit is near.”

They soon stopped at a large pavilion where a wealthy company was holding a special sale.

“Unattached Invisibles are all technically state wards, but individuals can make commission as matchmakers or trainers. Our house has a contract to supply trainees to Star Brothers Holdings who negotiates with handlers for placement of our graduates. We make sure our Invisibles get sent to the best households or civic centers for public duty. I just wanted to show you how it worked.”

“So I would be thankful of your mercy?” Gillian responded with barely restrained sarcasm. The Mother gave her a cold look but did not punish her for the insolence.

Gillian recognized some of the women now lined up on a small platform, though none of them were her friends. A group of people milled about as hawkers presented their prized assets.

Gillian sighed. Indeed, she was relieved not to have to suffer through such an ignominious process. The middle-men clucked their tongues as they negotiated with the staff, groping and questioning the candidates. There was a special stock prepared for an obvious purpose. As they watched, a potential buyer picked out a slender girl from the group. She placed her arms on the support beam and her head on a cushioned rest. Her legs were splayed apart so that the middle-man could get a good view. The man seemed satisfied with what he saw, unbuckled his trousers and massaged his long, ropy penis to life.

“They usually hire middle-men with enhanced features. It’s all for show. Every big household likes to look manly despite how piddling the real Master’s berries may actually be,” the Mother snorted.

The girl squawked as the man pushed his impressive member into her. Passion overcame her initial discomfort as he thrust away with mechanical efficiency. Soon, she was drooling in lustful abandon, demanding more from the man who grinned and thrust even faster with expert motions. His athletic movements created a response in Gillian, despite her reservations. Her own clitoris practically hurt from the desire. She pressed her legs together, subconsciously trying to squeeze herself to her own orgasm. She cursed the abominable Jezebel virus for its wicked ways on her flesh.

The Mother had noticed her desperation, “Well, I guess I can help you with that.” She reached over to part Gillian’s legs. She complied without hesitation, her need was so intense.

The Mother expertly used her fingers to massage Gillian’s clit and labia. She moaned, ashamed but unable to stop the waves of pleasure from causing a reaction. Only a few heads turned to glance in their direction. Gillian found a small step to pull up one leg in order for the Mother to get her fingers deep into her swelling vagina, now slick with fluid. In only two minutes, Gillian let out a guttural moan of release as she came once more, her stomach heaving with each wave of sensation. The fire in her clit sparked high, setting her whole body aflame. She touched herself all over, the feeling of suppleness spreading across her skin as if every cell of that membrane was an open conduit to sensation. The air itself teased her small hairs to attention. Her whole body was tuned to pure desire.

A young man had wandered over to observe. There was an obvious bulge in his pants. He grinned, “Hello, Mother. I see you’ve got a new recruit out today. She looks like she needs some help.”

“Of course. You may indulge yourself, Gillian,” the older woman nodded to her. Gillian nodded back in quick response. Her eyes beckoned to the man with desperation.

He dropped his own pants and began unbuttoning his shirt. It was obvious that he was someone who knew the drill, perhaps liked to lurk this market area for this specific purpose. Gillian didn’t care. She only wanted his flesh to touch hers. Almost as if he could read her mind, he embraced her fully. The Mother released her chain and waved to someone who brought a full throw rug with artificial long hairs that simulated a long extinct ursine animal. The two lovers collapsed heatedly onto the rug, spread in the lee of a stone building a few paces from the ongoing market. Several more heads now grinned and turned to watch the show. Gillian clamped her long legs around the stranger’s torso as if trying to merge her flesh into his own. Everywhere their skin touched, she felt as if each nerve ending was locking true, but never more intensely than when his cock thrust home into her waiting pussy. Her mind turned white, this time for much longer than ever before as she was lost in world of pure ecstasy.

“How is this possible?” she moaned, but it was soon impossible to speak as the sky grew dark. Grey figures surrounded her. Hands came down from the sky to grasp her and fill her in every orifice with pulsating wands of flesh that spilled their wanton fluids into, and over her, until she was no more than a quivering mass of pure need. When it was over, the long shadows of afternoon had finally cooled her passion as she laid panting, wiping her eyes clear of the white liquid, their flavors mixing in her exhausted mouth, tongue numb from an endless age of squirming and lapping. The ribbons of sticky material quickly dried, turning into a crackling mess on her chest, stomach and pelvic area. She licked her hand, tasting more salt of an unknown number of men, and massaged her still throbbing labia with her own thick saliva in a futile attempt to sooth herself.



A voice spoke to her gently, “Still want more?”

She tried to remember herself but someone said, “I can take more, but a drink of water first.” Cold water splashed into her mouth and she gulped it down almost as greedily as she had done with all the semen. Someone used a water hose to spray her off, and then hands clasped her and took her somewhere where she was gently placed under an awning on a wide mattress. Music played in the background as fresh, laughing voices approached. She heard the sound of clothes being thrown aside and someone spread her legs to dive into her awaiting self once more. Someone else, a woman this time, climbed onto her face and she smelled and tasted herself in that dark orifice that welcomed her home like an infinite Orobourus, as if her flesh and theirs had become one, a cycle of eternal unity, a circuit closed home in a final circle of ying and yang, ying and ying, and yang and yang, until it did not matter anymore which was which or who was whom.

It went this way for a long time, and it was good.





* * *





Mrs. Smith managed to arrive at the restaurant nearly on time. The other Invisibles were waiting at their usual spot. Claudia stood to allow her to sit inside the booth. The tallish brunette was a masochist who specialized in S&M, so she wore gloves, boots and strapped webbing which were probably causing painful rashes to rise up from her skin due to the reaction supposedly caused by the virus.

Mrs. Smith nodded her head at Caroline, now going by the name Sheba, and Gillian who sat opposite her. Mrs. Smith greeted them, “It’s nice to have new members for our little klatch. How was your debut, Gill?”

Gillian coughed, embarrassed, “It went well. The show had a good sell out. Everyone was very nice as they came for the complementary service afterwards. My mouth is really tired, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t talk much for a bit.”

Sheba chuckled, “I’m surprised she can sit. My bum is still sore. I brought a special cushion.”

Mrs. Smith leaned forward, “Well, I hope you are still available for tomorrow’s event. It’s a brunch service on the main lawn of the Council building. They’re holding some kind of fundraiser and we need everyone to pitch in. They’ll be putting one of us at each table as appetizers. How are your other friends doing, Sheba?”

“I hear Josephine, I mean Sophia, is doing quite well on the train service route. Ana is volunteering as a training assistant. She wants to follow in your footsteps and teach someday.”

“Great news. I know it was hard for Gillian to adjust at first, but she seems to be much more cheerful these days. I was really worried when I heard you had tried to hurt yourself.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. I still had illusions that I could escape, so when I found out the truth about the treatment from one of the ministers I fell into despair.” Gillian kept her hands in her lap, looking down.

“And now? Have you changed your mind any at all? It’s much easier just to accept things as they are,” Mrs. Smith advised. “Live for the day and all the individual pleasures it may give you.”

Gillian sighed, not looking up at Mrs. Smith for a long time. When she finally did, her eyes had a trace of moisture but were clear and sharp, “I’ve accepted that I am who I am now. Forgive me if I still speak heresy, but I still pray to have my sins absolved someday. But I have decided to walk the path of love and compassion. All I can do is hope that as I give and take pleasure, that divine Love is reaching the hearts of those with whom I share this corporeal self and that somehow even as I minister to them with my sinful flesh that there is some greater agency working toward their salvation. My soul lies in everlasting purity. That is my rock, otherwise I would go mad in this insane world.”

“And I shall pray that someday you see the true light,” Mrs. Smith responded, pity in her eyes. “As long as you don’t preach your heresy where the Law-Keepers can catch you, we won’t betray you, our sister.”

The waiter came by to take their orders. Mrs. Smith looked Gillian in the eyes as she made an extra request, “I’ll take some of what you have in your trousers as a starter. Gillian?”

Gillian smiled, “Yes, I’ll have what she’s having too.”

Pleased, the waiter unzipped and presented himself to them. The two women shared his cock between them. They stared each other down, as if in challenge, for some unknown stake, in some unknown tournament for a rationale that was quickly forgotten in a molten moment of pulsing heat, salty fluid, and pure ecstasy.

The End