Butt Slut Pandemic

Asian

Butt Slut Pandemic

Copyright 2021 by Limnophile

Permission granted to print or repost for non-commercial use if the author is credited.

(edited and revised, the original title was ‘Confession of a Monster’)

22 July, 2081

Cragsmoor Supermax, New York

Prisoner 2080NY00064941

Dr. Thomas Smith

My serious but small-scale crime, and later my terribly catastrophic one, both started with me trying to help a woman with her sexual problems. At first, I really did mean well. I truly did. Many would see my goals and actions as honorable and worthy of praise, until I became selfish and started misusing my invention’s abilities.

All my legal appeals are exhausted and the President refuses to pardon me, so I’m headed for erasure and recycling next Tuesday. Next week, I won’t know anything I’ve done to deserve my punishment, or even my current name. Lying would offend my love of science and facts, and my future self won’t know the difference anyway, so every word of this is true.

I’m not writing this in search of fame or recognition. Instead, I hope it will serve as a warning to future scientists and engineers. They should avoid anything similar to my work. They should avoid it at all costs!

I’ll start my story in the middle, then jump to the end. The beginning isn’t that interesting, and it’ll be easier to understand that way. Trust me. Or don’t. It won’t matter after next Tuesday.

I had dated Lucinda about fifteen years ago. We were both physically attractive and in the second year of our promising careers. I was a medical roboticist and she was a biochemist. On each date she would hug me as a greeting, hold my hand when we walked anywhere, and sat near me when she had the opportunity. I liked her a great deal and was very affectionate towards her too.

Her problem presented itself whenever we began to get intimate. The second I touched her breast, she put her hand on the crotch of my trousers, or our lips touched, she had a panic attack. She also admitted a milder problem to me. She had tried vapesticks with some friends and was addicted to them. As you probably know, vapes only have mild levels of drugs and nothing seriously toxic. They’re only about five percent as bad for people as tobacco, which is rightly banned.

She was doubly embarrassed about her addiction, considering her biochemistry specialty. Fortunately, most vapes smell like mint, fruit, or other pleasant things, instead of putrid smoke. Mostly, it was a big inconvenience for her to run outside every hour or two to puff any time she was away from home. To her, the health risks were minor in comparison.

She told me she strongly wanted to kiss me, make love to me, and maybe even start a family with me. She had an irrational fear because of abuse in her early childhood. I trusted her and shared my secret. I had developed an effective nanobot which could solve both her problems at once. I discovered how to target them to remove specific neurons, including brain cells. They could modify her nervous system to stop the addiction and calm her fear. If she were willing, I would program a batch of nanobots, have her take them in a small pill, and she would be cured by dinner time.

She had a few questions about safety. I assured her the nanomachines would do exactly what I programmed them to do, and she had nothing to worry about. She looked at my plan and was confident it would work. I double-checked the program before I loaded it into the sub-microscopic robots through their short-range radio links. In this context, ‘short range’ is only a few centimeters.

They would remove her fear of sex and eliminate her addiction to the vapestick drugs, nothing more. When they were done, they would migrate to her kidneys and leave her body when she urinated. Their power sources would run out in a few days, and they would be nothing more than tiny bits of metal and plastic drifting in a sewer somewhere.

She swallowed the small pill with a glass of water and things went exactly as programmed. An hour after taking it, she calmly kissed me for several seconds, then a minute or two. She reached in my pocket and played with my… equipment, with a happy smile on her face. We slowly took off our clothing and cuddled in bed, kissing and talking for hours. She was happy instead of afraid and didn’t feel the need to puff at all.

After eating dinner nude with her in my lap, we made love for the first time, and the second. We stopped for a few drinks and a snack, performed oral on each other, and made love for the third time. She hadn’t wanted to go outside and puff for over six hours and had no fear of sex! She was cured!

Except she wasn’t. She still had the strong oral fixation the addiction had caused her. She had either candy, a straw, or a finger in her mouth any time we weren’t making güvenilir bahis love. With no fear holding her back, over a decade of repressed sexuality spilled out. She wanted me either licking, fingering, or screwing her at least every two hours, the whole time we were awake. In addition to her loving intercourse, I got frequent kisses and oral sex at least three times a day. We thought we were in Heaven.

I didn’t sense anything wrong with the situation until I needed to get some work done. It’s hard to manipulate tiny parts under a microscope while there’s a mouth on your ear, or more distracting yet, your nipple. It’s equally difficult to type with a nude beauty in your lap.

When I had to leave on business for half a day, she masturbated until a few of her lady parts were rubbed raw and started bleeding. I first thought of simply reducing the number of nerves leading from her clitoral area to the spine, but that would have made her problem worse. She would still want the same amount of sex, but it would be harder for her to satisfy the need.

I could have the nanobots remove some of the neurons involved in sexual desire, but the brain can slowly re-route damaged pathways over time. Unless I had the bots remove all the related cells at once, effectively spaying her, the bots would need to destroy small groups of nerve cells every day. Over the course of a decade, half her brain would be gone.

I had done thousands of internet searches and run out of ideas. My desperation to cure her inspired me to go to the State Paper Library. I bought her several sex toys and a large bottle of lubricant, so she could survive another day without me.

Very few people go to a physical Library anymore, so each state only has one now. Most people think it’s silly to travel just to read actual books printed on paper, since nearly everything has been available online for over half a century. I knew there were still several thousand works that hadn’t been published to the net, and one of them might hold my last hope of a cure or treatment.

Several discredited medical texts from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries recommended the use of sex toys and frequent masturbation as cures for mental illness in females, but my lovely Lucinda already had that well in hand, pardon the pun. Cocaine, alcohol, and strong sedatives were also highly recommended. With ‘Science’ like that, I’m surprised humanity ever figured out how to use fire.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I found a bit of truth in the last place I expected, a fiery religious text. “A man who marries a prostitute is a fool, as a man who reaches in a shark’s mouth is a fool. They cannot help what they are. Once a harlot, always a harlot.” It was some vitriolic stuff, but later I found it to be at least partly true.

I also read some results from failed experiments that tried to regrow brain tissue. Perhaps I could have the nanobots restore a small part of her fear, to tamp down her overwhelming libido? I didn’t find a solution, but I had a few ideas.

My ideas vanished like origami in a typhoon when I opened the apartment door. Loud music was playing and Lucinda was leaned over the arm of the sofa. She was sucking a penis, stroking another with her hand, and taking a third in her vagina. Several more men were sitting in the kitchen and living room waiting for their turns.

I nearly let out my sudden jealousy and rage. Instead, I froze for a moment. I realized she was untrustworthy and her issue was hopeless. I had to be free of her, but I needed to do it in an intelligent way. I played with one of her nipples, smiled at her, and told her I was glad she finally got what she needed.

In freeing myself, I invented the punishment that’s going to be used on me soon. Sometimes karma is truly a bitch. But most people would agree, in my case it’s fair. I went to my lab and programmed another dose of nanobots. These would erase my name, face, and anything else involving me from Lucinda’s memory, in the same way a prison physician is going to erase my science and engineering knowledge next week.

I planned to just put the nanobots in a glass of water and have her drink it but realized all the men had seen me too. I mixed up a pitcher of punch, and everybody had a glass but me. Doing the math, each of them drank at least a few thousand nanobots, which would be enough to do the job over several hours.

I suggested they could have a better time at a hotel across town, where there was a pool and a hot tub. Luckily, they followed my suggestion. I knew they would never be able to find their way back, or remember most of what they did that day. After cleaning up two dozen used condoms and several pieces of stray clothing, my problem was solved.

I didn’t foresee the terrible consequences. Deleting our discussions about medicine destroyed güvenilir bahis siteleri the majority of Lucinda’s scientific knowledge, preventing her from doing her job as a biochemist. She would barely be qualified to perform the duties of a nurse’s aide or a cook.

I felt terribly guilty, until I heard that a month later she had been arrested for having sex with five men in a public park. It only surprised me a little. When I heard about her next three sex-in-public arrests, they didn’t surprise me at all.

It was an unhappy ending to our romance, but I had no better solution. I later heard that she didn’t really care if she was in jail or not, once she discovered she was bisexual. I’m glad that it wasn’t a total loss for her.

Since I first tested my nanobots on human subjects two decades ago, my worst crime, and worst catastrophe, was truly intended to help a patient in need. I’ll admit, I also did it for my pleasure, but if it worked as intended, the patient and I would both be quite happy. Getting romantically involved with her was a big ethics violation, but nothing compared to what I did trying to cure her.

Belinda had been born with a deformity which prevented her from experiencing sexual pleasure or having vaginal sex of any sort. She had no clitoris or vagina, or anything resembling either. Instead, she had two very small tubes leaving the front of her pelvic area, her urethra and another one the same size, leading to her ovaries with no uterus or cervix between. If it wasn’t such a problem for her, I might have found it funny that she was effectively an egg-laying human.

The main difficulty was that her existing anatomy couldn’t be modified enough to build a vagina of sufficient size to accept even a below-average man. She would have gotten a vagina through plastic surgery, if her body could have handled it. An additional limitation was that nerve transplantation had still not been perfected. A great surgeon could have made her a clitoris which would give her some pleasure, but she would never reach orgasm.

I had developed the required technology for my nanobots to move stem and nerve cells to other areas of the body, and grow whatever structures were desired, within limits. As an alternative to a vagina, which was an impossible dream, I could have the nanobots grow a clitoris inside her rectum and make the anal ring and the tissues around it more resilient and pliable, so anal sex would be easy and safe for her. It would give her pleasure similar to what most women experienced during good sexual intercourse. My selfishness pushed me to increase the clitoral tissue sensitivity, so she would like it even more. I had tried anal with another woman before and was astounded how good it felt. The extra tightness, combined with the excitement of doing something dirty and naughty aroused me to no end.

After my previous nanobot mishaps, I was very careful. I went over the program several times a day for weeks, looking for any flaws or possible unintended consequences. As usual, I programmed them to leave the body via the urinary tract when the changes were finished. I limited the number that could exit per hour, to prevent kidney damage. I was certain the programming was perfect.

I used the newest generation of nanobots, with blood glucose fuel cells, so they wouldn’t run out of power before the work was finished. If one of them was damaged, other bots would fix it. To account for any that totally failed or went missing, a small number of new ones would be produced each hour if there weren’t enough to do the work efficiently.

If needed, they could do their jobs for weeks. I had no idea they could last for years, or decades. I also included the enhanced batteries, so they would work for several months without a sugar supply, in case I wanted to perform more tests in the lab before using them. After three months, I was sure I was ready. I had enough nanobots for five doses of ten million, far more than enough to do what was required. I figured it was better to have plenty than risk not having enough.

I carefully placed each dose in a pill and put each pill in a separate plastic bag. I didn’t want any contamination, or any stray bots causing issues. I called Belinda to tell her the news. She was very happy and invited me to her apartment for dinner. As a sappy romantic gesture, I put the pills in a romantic greeting card in an envelope.

I got a taxi and headed to Belinda’s place with a small box of chocolates and a good bottle of wine, as further gestures. There was a traffic jam on a major bridge between my lab and her place. The day was hot, and so were the drivers’ tempers. The cab’s air conditioner failed, and we rolled the windows down. The drivers got into a shouting match and I was silly enough to join in, arguing about who caused the mess, and who iddaa siteleri had to go where to fix it.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the car as I shook my fist. The envelope flew out of my pocket and down into the water of the river below. As I saw it descending, I stared in shock. I fervently hoped nobody would find it and take the pills.

I didn’t see the envelope get sucked into the city’s water intake, but that’s what must have happened. The pumps would have torn the envelope and pill bags open, releasing the swarm of nanobots into the city’s water supply. Thanks to international flights, within a week there were thousands of infected victims in more than a hundred cities around the world, and most of them would infect hundreds more.

This caused what’s known as the “Butt Slut Pandemic”. Within a month, two million people grew a clitoris inside their rectum, and felt great pleasure any time they had a bowel movement. Most of them quickly wanted more and started craving anal sex. Many surgeons performed reversal surgeries, only to have half the patients get infected again. There was no way they could do millions of reversal surgeries a month for the foreseeable future. In the last ten years, over five billion people have been modified around the world, half the human population!

A few women who liked anal, prostitutes of both genders, and lots of gay men got infected on purpose, to make their usual activities feel much better. Fortunately, the bots also modify the body to make receiving anal sex safe, or there would have been millions of injuries too. The long-acting nanobots have shown no signs of slowing down, they’ve actually been increasing in number.

They’re much more contagious than most diseases. If a bacteria or virus is sneezed or coughed onto a table or doorknob, a person touching it is okay until they touch the contaminated finger or hand to their mouth or eye. The nanobots can tunnel directly through skin unnoticed. A virus or bacteria will also die after a few hours on a dry surface, but the bots are fine for months. They also slowly move around searching for a human to infect. Outside a body, they can only move a few centimeters per hour, but viruses don’t crawl.

The bots can easily travel between people during sex, which their programming recognizes as leaving the body when their tasks are finished. The bots have tiny cutting tools, so condoms are no protection. When they find themselves in a new body, the bots start their work afresh. The tiny, tireless terrors can even survive being urinated or defecated into a sewer system, treated with disinfecting agents, and then infect people who drink the “purified” water. The limit I placed on bots exiting through the kidneys means that victims are contagious up to a month after infection.

It would take around a year for a single nanobot to change somebody, but unless it’s been near another nanobot in the last hour, there’s a 10 percent chance it will stop working on the victim and make another bot instead. Within a month, infection by a lone bot will grow almost exponentially to thousands of them.

They’ve caused a major social change. Instead of women being very picky and men struggling to impress them, men are in high demand by both genders, so the roles have been reversed. Most new families include at least two adult males. Laws are changing accordingly, allowing up to six adults to marry as a family in many countries. Weddings these days usually have two, three, or four men and sometimes a few women who will do nearly anything to stay with them.

Some experts advised creating a new swarm of bots to fight the ones I made, but they were quickly shouted down. The chance they might accidentally do something even worse was quickly pointed out.

The day before I was arrested, I ran a simulation. Within another five years, the bot epidemic will finish changing the world. All humans will enjoy receiving anal sex even more than they like intercourse or getting oral. In two hundred years, the number of people in the world will stabilize around half a billion. My accidental plague will cause a more serious population decline than all the wars and diseases in history.

The AI also predicts that most major religious texts will be changed to say a good family has at least two fathers, women should do anything possible to get pregnant often, married or not, and it’s been that way back to the beginning of time. When I saw that, I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. It’s probably accurate, though. Religions that preach things nobody agrees with tend to fade away.

I didn’t kill anybody, but I prevented tens of billions from being born. I didn’t force or intimidate anybody into sex, but I drastically changed the sexual practices of humanity as a whole. Some say that makes me the worst murderer and sex offender in history, by far.

Not technically true, but I understand their reasoning. I won’t understand it after the prison doctor wipes my memory next Tuesday. I just hope I’ll live with a lot of other men, so I can get all the anal sex I need.

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