New World Order, A


By Kowalski

That night a feverish Paul Morton tossed and turned in bed next to Sheila. His delicate facial features were contorted, strained. Was he sick?

She was afraid to wake him. She lay awake, wondering what she'd done to him in the heat of passion. Her and her ex-boyfriend had experimented with overdoses of Promade. But he never seemed to have any adverse reaction to it. It simply intensified and hurried along the normal effects of the drug.

Maybe it was his athletic build. Maybe someone with his body weight was better able to absorb the drug? She noted Paul's frail limbs, his ribs. What had she done? She wondered and worried. Paul mumbled in his sleep, thrashing about, sweating profusely.

His dreams were nightmarish.

Intense visions of primitive violence and pain. And fear. Paul fought off the phantoms that hacked away at his inferior genes. He dug into them, fighting them off, but to no avail. He dreamt that his cock and balls were obscenely huge. His body, massive, powerful. A surgeon had him strapped to an operating table like Frankenstein... and was preparing to remove his balls. The doctor looked like Sheila. He cried out as she leaned forward over him. Her doctor's smock fell open. Two heavy breasts tumbled into his face like fleshy pillows. Milk dripped from her dark swollen nipples and he tried to catch the fluid in his mouth. Then she pressed down onto him, smothering him. He struggled to catch some air. Her smell penetrated him completely. He couldn't move. He woke up with a start, drenched in his own sweat.

Sheila was lying next to him, stroking his forehead, smiling at him innocently.

"Are you okay honey? You were having a bad dream", she kissed away the sweat from his face and eased him back against the pillow.

"Uhh... yeah I guess... I don't know..."

He gasped for air. The bedroom was filled with Sheila's scent. It filled his senses with every breath he took, like in the dream. His heart was racing still from the fantastic vision. Was he having a heart attack? He felt Sheila's finger lightly caress his cock. It made him jump and he banged his head on the head board.

"Ooh! I'm sorry! Does that hurt??", Sheila asked.

Her eyes were fixed on his crotch. She lightly touched his cock again, this time it didn't shock him. It was burning and sore, but it felt good at the same time. His body trembled as Sheila ran her curled knuckle along the length of his cock. It was swollen and bright red, with dark veins visible beneath the skin and pulsing with blood. At its base his balls were also swollen, his nut sack stretched tight and smooth like silk. Sheila licked her lips and smiled at Paul.

"Look at you!"

She invited him to sit up and look at his enlarged organ. She held it aloft for him to see.

He was shaky sitting up. His arms were sore. He looked at his penis and his mouth dropped open. It had to be at least an inch longer, maybe more. And it was thicker than before. It looked red and angry, almost ugly to him. Sheila raised her eyebrows and smiled sweetly at her lover.

"It's all you, my love. It's all you."

She leaned down and kissed the blood red head. A large droplet of clear pre-cum issued forth and Paul felt a euphoric flash behind his eyeballs, like an overdose of oxygen flooding his brain. A million brain cells burned out in an instant. He passed out and fell back into a dream.

Sheila was still there. She seemed taller, easily a foot taller than him, her shoulders broad, her hips wide and inviting. Her eye level breasts were still huge, now contained in a giant white satin bra which she was modeling for him. She looked down and smiled sweetly at him and spoke in a sexy voice. "What do you think?" She looked like one of the models in those big tit magazines that Steve collected, like the girls in the Promade ads.

He tried to look away, he looked down at himself. His body was thin and weak. His cock hung down to his knees, huge and limp, its immense weight pulling him toward the floor. He reached down and tried to lift it, it felt like a dead animal. His balls were as large as ostrich eggs and they ached.

Sheila took his head in both hands and pulled his face into her deep cleavage. Everything went dark and again he heard her voice. "I said what do you think... little man? Isn't it nice in here?" He tried to pull away but she held him there. He could hear her heartbeat. Then he heard Steve and Tucker cheering him on somewhere off in the distance. Hooting and whistling.

Suddenly his cock was erect. It was almost two feet long and rose up in front of his face. Sheila laughed as she sat down and unhooked her massive bra, tossing it onto the floor with a thud. She wrapped her two giant boobs around his grotesque cock and began tit-fucking him. She smiled at him with that ravishing smile of hers. "Not bad, eh??" In his dream he tried to speak, tried to cry out. But he had no voice. He glanced down at the discarded brassiere. Laying in a tangle on the floor it looked like a huge complicated harness, with myriad hooks, straps and seams. And cups that could've fit over his head. The floor was strewn with giant brassieres!

Suddenly he felt afraid. Sheila's hands began pumping his cock in long steady motions, gripping it tightly. His precum oozed out from between her fingers and trickled down her forearms. Her elbows were flying about and her pendulous jugs swung heavily from her body, swaying back and forth with her ministrations. It was a bizarre sight to him. She looked like a cow. But still beautiful. Still graceful. And very powerful he realized. Paul could feel a panic rising up within him. He felt something between his legs, swelling. His balls were swelling up before his eyes, forcing his legs apart. Sheila laughed at him and worked harder. The head of his penis was larger than his fist. His shaft, covered in lurid purple veins, was as thick as a baseball bat. "Oh Paulie, you're even bigger than John. So big. I want you inside me." She reclined on her elbows. Bed springs groaned loudly under her weight. Her boobs rolled to her sides, under her arms. His heart pounded with fear. He couldn't move. He watched as Sheila spread her powerful thighs. She leaned forward. Her nipples crept toward Paul, reaching past her belly button.

"I want you in there", she said.

Paul stared at her pussy. It looked positively huge and it seemed to be moving, like it was growing. Sheila seemed to be growing larger! He felt two strong hands clamp down around his shoulders, lifting him up in the air.

As his feet left the bed his stiff cock swung from his body like a terrible weight. With her arms outstretched, Sheila looked up at Paul who seemed like a little baby in her hands. He could feel himself getting smaller in her grasp as she lowered him into her pussy. His cock was the perfect size now, he thought, as he watched it glide into her, pulling him along with it. She moaned deeply and his whole world rumbled. He watched his majestic cock vanish into her body like it was someone else's. Like it belonged to her and she was taking it back. Suspended in mid air, he looked down in a panic. The cock was still attached to him, he decided, but he looked to be only about thirteen inches tall. A giant hand was wrapped around his torso now, holding him like a doll. His thin legs and arms dangled uselessly over huge fingers.

Sheila laid back and proceeded to pump herself with him, the cock that was taller and thicker now than his entire body slurped and slopped loudly in and out of her. Her massive hips rose up and down off the bed like ocean waves. He watched the walls of her inner thighs rush by with great speed, back and forth. He could feel the wind blowing through his hair. Her body was powerful and immense. She jammed him deep into her and he felt her wetness splash against his chest and face. It was sticky. The smell of it burned his nostrils and racked his brain. She pulled him out again and he felt her fluids drip down the front of his body. She still tasted delicious to him. The gelatinous hills of her breasts rolled ominously in the distance, capped by two large dark brown islands. He thought he wanted to climb them, get away from this brutal thrashing. He couldn't see Sheila's her face anymore. Again she thrust him into her cavernous pussy, plunging him in as deep as he would go. Paul felt his knees slip inside her. Massive lips wrapped around his hips like two rubbery restraints. A cool breeze escaped from the hollow cave of her pussy, giving him goosebumps all up and down his tiny spine. She held him there, in place, his face buried in her slimy labia. He was face to face with her clit. It looked to be as large as his entire head. He reached for it with both arms. Spreading the great hood apart he tried to get a grip on the giant protrusion with his hands. But it was too slippery. He heard the giantess cry out in the far distance, like the wild cry of an animal. Sensing what was coming next he hugged onto the slippery knob with both arms. He felt Sheila's giant finger in the small of his back, pushing him further inside. He kicked his feet but they just slipped inside. He slapped his hands against the slipperiness that engulfed him as the giant finger shoved him in up to his armpits. He slapped his hands against Sheila's lips when he felt himself being pulled inside. His shoulders slipped in then the opening closed behind and all went dark. He heard a voice inside the cave calling out to him. "Paaauuul-leeeeeee.....

Wake up, Paulie! Paulie! Wake up!!"

He woke up.

Sheila was bent over him, shaking him, crying. Paul was soaking wet with sweat. Apparently he had suffered some kind of seizure. His heart was pounding in his chest and it hurt him. Another hour had passed and his cock had experienced another sudden surge of growth. She had watched it happen and worried that he might be hurt, or killed by the overdose of Promade.

"I'm sorry Paul. I'm sorry I gave you all those extra pills last night", she pleaded.

Paul was dazed. He didn't exactly remember what she was even talking about. He sat up in bed with her assistance and drew a deep breath. The air smelled sweet and clean as it nestled deep in his lungs. It smelled like Sheila. His heart surged with love for her as he saw her begin to sob again.

He felt sick to his stomach at the sound of her crying. The drug did something to him. To his mind as well as his body. He loved her so much now it pained him. He would kill for this woman, he thought. Steal for her. Even die for her. Sheila's sobs were like horrible stabbing pains that he felt in every part of his body. He petted her dark brown hair, soothing her. She looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks.

"I thought you were sick. I thought you were having a seizure in your sleep. I'll never make you take those pills like that again. That was stupid of me."

She kissed him lightly then collapsed in his embrace. He held her close to him and kissed the top of her head. His arms felt slightly bigger and stronger. The pills! Of course. He was coming to his senses now. As she heaved from her last couple of sobs he felt her soft hair tickle his stomach. His manhood stirred to life again. Sheila watched it, as she had been watching it for hours. It moved, as if it had somewhere to go. Paul felt it stiffen and fill with blood. He felt it brush his inner thigh. He wanted to see it again. Sheila sniffled. Her sobs had stopped. She reached out and gingerly touched Paul's new cock. Still not as large as her ex's, but impressive. It looked to have grown yet another inch. The head looked like a small plum now, smooth, shiny, purple. She wrapped her fingers gently around its shaft. She could just touch her fingers around the circumference.

She squeezed it and Paul let out a great sigh, his chest heaving with his breaths. His arms dropped to his side and he relaxed against the head board.

He watched as Sheila lovingly kissed the head of his penis. She flipped her hair out of the way so he could watch. Slowly she took Paul's cock into her mouth, easing it down her throat. Perhaps this was the perfect size, she thought to herself. She sucked on it briefly until soon she gagged. Paul stroked her head and pulled her to him and the couple kissed passionately.

Sheila's passions welled up and she crushed herself against him. Her chest pressed flatly against his, he could feel her rock hard nipple buds driving into his pecs. Sheila threw a leg over him and straddled his stomach, sliding her wet pussy against his abs. Paul felt fantastic. Sheila began breathing heavy. She angled her hips, tilting her ass into the air as she slid backwards, impaling herself on Paul's rod. This time she went slowly, savoring the FEEL of his cock head spreading her lips, then the thickness of his shaft as it pushed into her. She could feel the ropey veins that now covered it. Her heart soared. She sat up on top of Paul and plunged him deep inside her. She didn't feel stretched to the limit like with her ex. But she felt... WONDERFUL.

She began slowly rocking and pumping her hips on Paul's new power tool. For almost a half hour Paul felt like he was on the verge of a shattering climax that never quite came. Sheila kept up her pumping motion until she was too tired to hold herself up. Then they switched positions.

Paul let his cock slip out of Sheila. It slapped against his thigh as he rose to his knees. Sheila smiled up at him, her beautiful face drenched in perspiration and framed by two white cotton pillows.

"I love you", she said to him.

Paul's heart soared. He reached down without taking his eyes off of Sheila and took his cock in hand. He was shocked by how big it felt. A real handful! He gripped it by the base and angled it upwards, toward her waiting pussy. It looked to be over eight inches long. The extra length of penis that extended from his closed fist seemed larger than his old cock, he thought to himself. And twice again as thick. He teased Sheila's lips with his new man-sized tool, dragging its head across and up and down, rubbing her clit with it. Sheila sighed dramatically and bit her lip, begging him to put it in her. With that Paul pushed the head back in, watching her pussy lips spread to accommodate him. With one effortless stroke he buried the entire eight inches to the base. Sheila lifted up off the bed and seethed with delight. He pulled back out and again rammed the entire thing home, this time a bit harder. He felt his balls slap against Sheila's body. Sheila felt it too. She reached down and pulled her pussy and her legs wider apart.

"More... give me more..." she pleaded, her eyes closed, her head tossed back toward the wall.

Paul grabbed her hips in his hands and pulled her onto him, driving himself as deeply into her as he could. Sheila cried out, almost like it hurt. It didn't hurt. It felt fantastic. She hadn't felt that feeling in such a long time.

"More... please Paul... more..." Again he grabbed her ass and pulled her, pulled her hard. He slammed into her. His balls slapping loudly against her. He repeated the motion in quick succession, increasing the force, using his strong arms to pull her body onto his. Their hips rose in rhythm, ramming and slapping into one another in perfect timing. Sheila's well-toned hips and ass shook from the impact. Paul huffed and grunted but felt a new stamina he never had before. The harder he pumped and pulled on her, the stronger he felt. Sheila let go, her body flailed as Paul fucked her with gusto, shaking the entire bed. She cried out in rhythm with his thrusts, louder and louder, harder and harder.

She clawed at the sheets and arched her back as her orgasm came crashing down.

And still Paul didn't come.

When she ceased her convulsions, Sheila rose up. Paul's cock oozed out of her. She looked down at it with excitement. She grabbed it with both hands and squeezed. Paul dropped to his knees and sat back while Sheila pumped his cock, which was slippery with her juices. He marveled at the sight of it. She kissed it and sucked on it and licked it and pumped it like she was in love with it. This turned Paul on even more, seeing this beautiful woman worshipping his cock like this. She cupped his balls in one hand. They looked like they were three times larger than before. He couldn't believe it. He felt himself getting ready to cum. He braced himself and leaned back while Sheila concentrated her efforts, pumping now with both hands. The bed bounced up and down as she used her whole self to pump Paul's swollen organ. She was breathing heavily, on the brink of exhaustion when it came. Paul felt his big balls twitch as the spunk churned and traveled up through the length of his cock. A thick stream of sperm coursed through his main vein and jumped from the tip of his thick penis into the air. The first glob leapt through the air in a great arc over Sheila's head. It was an unbelievable sight and an even more unbelievable feeling! Like a fountain, Paul's copious seed jumped from his body with great force. Sheila milked Paul with an expert touch, laughing aloud as his hot jism splattered them both.

* * * * * * * * Six months later Promade really was as popular as Coca-Cola, just as Ed Hollings had predicted. Not every man could afford it. Not every man was convinced he wanted it or needed it. But word of mouth is the best advertising in the world and word of mouth had spread like wildfire.

Everyone, it seemed, knew someone who was taking or had taken the drug. The original ad campaign was still running on every channel. Donna Hughes was selling the stuff as fast as she could get it in her shop. So was every other drug store, department store, grocery store and neighborhood sex shop in the country. It was exported across the ocean to Japan, to Europe, China and the Middle East.

With Promade, Luna Genetics had effectively chased the bald gene into hiding. Men were happy to forego an expensive car or a nicer apartment-even food sometimes-in favor of keeping up their expensive Promade habit. Credit card debt was on the rise, but not even the credit card companies were complaining. In ever greater numbers the male of the species surrendered to his own vanity, pursuing multiple women at once, "thinking with his dick".

Male libidos raged out of control. You could sense it in the streets, in the workplace, everywhere.

The women of the world were either powerless or unwilling to do anything about Promade except argue amongst themselves over its apparent benefits and drawbacks. The sexualizing influence that Promade had on culture and on the men that populated women's everyday lives was embraced not only by those selfish men but also by a silent majority of women. Many were simply happy Luna Genetics investors who equated mankind's growing addiction to Promade with their own assured economic independence. Some were just average wives and/or lovers who were pleased with their new improved man's performance in the sack. Some were increasingly successful exotic dancers and opportunistic private escorts who found their services more in demand than ever before as men of all kinds flocked into strip clubs without shame. The woman who could hold onto one of these men was sexually satisfied on a daily basis. Even the many women who found themselves relegated to a series of meaningless one night stands weren't complaining as loudly as they once might have.

Bottom line: the popular (male) appetite for sex was through the roof.

Promade men were unbelievably unapologetically horny, virtually all the time. As a result of this fact popular culture and society itself began to undergo a rapid transformation. The marketplace and the cultural landscape began to reshape itself to appeal to its most reliable and helpless target customer, namely the sex-obsessed, increasingly stupid "Promade Generation"

as it was dubbed by Time magazine. Intent on relieving men of whatever extra pocket change they may have left after their $600 monthly Promade expenditure, advertisers and TV producers and filmmakers all tossed discretion and good taste out the window. Seemingly overnight the voluptuous female became, or was fast becoming, the archetypal female figure portrayed in the media. Large-busted women made their way in front of the cameras as news anchors on network news shows. Many former big bust models found themselves making more money than ever as high fashion models, singers and serious actresses. Pornography itself assumed a new place of esteem, in the very foreground of mainstream popular culture.

Men were happy about these changes.

Women were stunned.

Average women-and even many above average women-came to feel inadequate as they measured themselves against an increasingly unrealistic image that was glorified in the media. Sure it had always been this way, to a degree. But suddenly the problem was becoming inflated to cartoon proportions and women were left wondering why and how things ever got so bad. A deep unarticulated rage among the vast majority of the female population was growing. They argued. They commiserated. They berated themselves and each other. Advertisers played the male market like a drum, and the feminist cause was getting trampled in the process. So it seemed.

Before long, many a self-respecting woman who formerly would never have given an ounce of credence to the importance of breast size would find that she could not stop obsessing about her cleavage, or lack thereof. The market for padded and gel-filled brassieres was booming. Eventually, and against their better judgement, many intelligent women managed to talk themselves into going under the knife, getting the largest implants their doctors would allow, all in an effort to either fit in, get ahead, or simply to hold onto the man she loved. •

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