The Eden Virus [Part 7]

By M. Greene published February 5, 2018
Man musk...

Chapter 18: Year 1, Day 300

Derrick was worried; there was something terribly wrong with the Boss.

For the past two months, ever since they had delivered that consignment of slaves to Edward Creed, his master had seemed listless and depressed. That fateful afternoon, for some reason Derrick could never understand, the Boss had begun driving away from the farm without him. Derrick remembered sprinting after the moving jeep and only just managing to jump inside before it started to go too fast. All the way back to the city, the Boss had stared silently at the road ahead, tightly gripping the steering wheel, tears running down his cheeks.

Derrick had no idea what had happened at the farm that day, but since then, the Boss had just not been the same person he was before. He had delegated all his duties as employment minister to Derrick and now almost never left his apartment. He hardly spoke, he wasn’t interested in sex, his appetite was diminished, he had dark rings under his eyes from lack of sleep and occasionally, he would suddenly start crying for no apparent reason. All his former positivity appeared to have evaporated and he seemed like a broken man…

Derrick loved the Boss and hated to see him so listless, depressed and bored. He longed to have the old Tyrese Diamond back; the powerful, confident, ambitious go-getter who wanted it all. Derrick knew he was only a slave, but the more important the Boss was, the more status he had himself… As the days went by and winter gradually gave way to spring, he pondered possible ways that he could help the Boss regain his joie de vivre…

Chapter 19: Year 2, Day 1

King really was ‘King’ now. King Lamar of the Western Counties, to be precise. He had not consciously wanted or worked for this illustrious title. It was entirely instinctive on his part and that of his male subjects. His musk was simply the most powerful in the land and that was that. He was the Alpha. None of the other men in his small kingdom could possibly argue against his dominance and they had absolutely no desire to do so.

Axel, Neville, Harry, Tom, Mike, Miguel and the rest of his five hundred or so closest and most important subjects knelt, in silent adoration, watching as their mighty King publically and ceremoniously fucked his predecessor’s ass.

Sven grunted with pleasure as he felt the mighty monarch’s powerful black cock thrusting in and out of his dripping wet pussy. It was a slow and dignified fucking, appropriate for the occasion and it would be some time yet before it came to an end. Sven knelt on his hands and knees on the velvet covered mattress in front of King Lamar’s throne and breathed in the beautiful musk that completely enveloped him. He could feel the King’s sharp talons digging into his biceps as his lord and master increased the pace of the relentless assault on his ass. Sven’s own stiff dick, its helmet recently pierced by Neville and still quite tender, was leaking so much man-gel that it poured in a continuous stream onto the mattress underneath him.

Around a tenth of the entire nation’s population had gathered for the ceremony, which was being held in the King’s new palace. Lamar’s rule now extended over two hundred square miles of land and included every farm and settlement within that radius. His ‘capital city’ was a town very near to the rangers’ valley. Its large church had been converted into a palace; the nave stripped of seats and Lamar’s throne standing on the raised dais where the altar had once been.

It was, of course, Sven Olsson who had built up their small nation, working tirelessly over the past nine months to build partnerships with the farmers who lived in the nearby counties. In return for a share of the rangers’ huge stock of preserved foods and fresh fish caught in the lake, the farmers gained security from outside attack and shared the bounty of their agriculture. Together, they had all managed to survive the first winter since the pandemic. At harvest time, Sven, or ‘The Chief’ as he was always called, was regarded as an accomplished leader who commanded almost universal respect. A few short months ago, none of them could have possibly predicted today’s events. Nobody had foreseen how important musk would become…

Like man-gel, musk was another mutation caused by the pandemic. It was secreted by the sweat glands, particularly from under the arms and between the legs. Men had first begun to notice its effects towards the end of that first summer, but it was during the autumn and winter that it began to seriously change their lives. During those colder months the smell of musk gradually became stronger and its influence more pronounced. What began as a mild aphrodisiac turned into a compelling force which utterly controlled every man’s body and mind. If another man’s musk was less powerful than yours, the desire to control him became overwhelming. If his musk was more powerful, you became submissive and craved domination, like a bitch in heat…

As the anniversary of the pandemic approached, every single man in the community started to feel the power of Lamar Kingston’s musk. Their widened nostrils, now ultra-sensitive to any aroma, could sense King’s presence from over a mile away if the wind was blowing in their direction. Sven Olsson, like every other man in the region, was totally intoxicated. Helpless with lust, he knew he could no longer lead; he had to submit. So it was, to cement their new king’s rule, Sven willingly agreed to this very public fucking ceremony.

King Lamar was very close to orgasm now. As he pumped his underling’s ass, his great horned head thrashed from side to side, causing the thick gold snout ring that hung from his nostrils to glint in the sunlight. This expensive diamond-studded circle had been recently presented by a local township as a symbol of their everlasting loyalty to their new monarch. King Lamar was incredibly proud of it.

Under the King’s massive body, Sven moaned in ecstasy as his prostate was repeatedly massaged. His own dick began to shoot huge gouts of spunk as, with a mighty roar, Lamar finally climaxed, filling Sven’s tight ass with his alpha seed.

Once the coronation orgasm was over, King Lamar mounted his throne and watched as Axel, Tom, Mike and Neville moved forward on their knees to clear up the royal mess with their tongues. As his closest friends, these four courtiers had earned this very special privilege, but the highest honour, that of licking the King’s phallus clean, was reserved only for Sven…

Chapter 20: Year 2, Day 1

Meanwhile, another, rather different ceremony was taking place in a coastal city five hundred miles away…

Along with the rest of the huge crowd, Derrick stood in silence with his head bowed in the parade ground of Fort Heritage.

It had been exactly one year since the pandemic killed all the women and children on the planet. General Sykes, as State Governor, led the commemoration ceremony by unveiling the newly built memorial and being the first to lay a wreath in front of it.

The memorial stone was a simple monolith of polished white marble, twelve feet in height, which was inscribed with the words: ‘In loving memory of the better half of humanity. May their souls rest in eternal peace. Their legacy will never die.’

Stephen Sykes stepped back, bowed low and saluted the memorial to the female gender.

The highest ranking members of the cabinet then also laid wreaths, led by Professor Miles Hillier, Minister of Science; Doctor Andrew Hillier, Minister of Health; Lieutenant Chad Harris, Minister of Security and, standing in for Tyrese Diamond, Minister of Employment, who was sadly indisposed, his faithful slave and deputy, Derrick Rose.

Once everyone present had paid their respects, the huge crowd of assembled men bowed their heads in silent meditation for several minutes.

Across what had once been the United States of America, similar ceremonies were being held in many of the better-organised independent states. Recently, the transatlantic telegraph cable, long superseded by the now-defunct internet, had been brought back into use and limited communications with Europe had been restored. Word had it that many men there too were commemorating this solemn anniversary of the day the world changed forever.

A rather sombre and subdued reception was held inside Fort Heritage after the ceremony was over. Although humanity had survived the first winter of the crisis, the harvest had been mediocre and food supplies from before the pandemic were now running very low. In their state, a huge army of agricultural slaves was ensuring that every farm was being worked to capacity. Hopes were high that, come the next harvest, there would be enough food to feed everyone well, but right now, in the early spring, things were very tight and rations had been reduced.

“We have Tyrese Diamond to thank for all this,” Stephen Sykes remarked to Derrick as they stood together gazing hungrily over the food spread out on the buffet table before them. “Last year’s harvest was not great, but, if it had not been for him organising the farm labour so well, we would all be facing starvation.” He helped himself to a chicken leg and bit into it. “I am sorry to hear that your master remains so unwell. When do you think he will be able to resume his duties?”

Derrick swallowed hard. Rumour had it that there was a conspiracy within the cabinet to replace the Boss with another man. If only his master would snap out of whatever it was that troubled him… “Mr Diamond is getting better,” he lied. “He should be back to work soon…”

“Good,” General Sykes said, piling yet more food onto his plate. “By the way, a new consignment of refugees was brought in last night that either you or your master should probably take a look at. They are part of a group that was kidnapped by raiders in the north of the city last fall.” He shook his head sadly. “These damned scavengers think they can enter our state with impunity and take our people. They grow bolder by the day. I have ordered Lieutenant Harris to organise troops to subdue them as soon as the weather improves…”

Once the reception was over, Derrick visited the area of Fort Heritage where the rescued refugees were temporarily housed until their reallocation to work details. They were a fairly usual group of half-starved men who had been badly treated by the out-of-state raiders during their captivity. All bore minor injuries and bruises, which, although healing quickly, as post-viral bodies always now did, would put them out of action for quite a few weeks. None of them were fit for immediate farm allocation…

On his way out of Fort Heritage, Derrick passed the Security Department and noticed that the corridor walls were lined with photographs of various army and civilian personnel who had been captured by raiders in recent months. Three men had been seized from an army field clinic just two weeks before. One of the pictures caught Derrick’s attention and he carefully studied the man’s face for some moments. This one would be totally perfect for the Boss… Making a mental note of the man’s name, he hurried towards Lieutenant Harris’s office.

“Why do they capture them?” Derrick asked the security minister.

“They get sold on as slaves for food, drugs or other valuables,” Chad Harris replied. He shrugged. “Other states aren’t as ‘civilised’ as ours, you know. Slavery is rife everywhere these days…”

Derrick pointed to the thick steel collar around his neck. “Including here,” he said.

Chad blushed and coughed nervously. “Yes, of course, but I like to think that in this state, slaves are treated rather more decently.” He looked down at the papers on his desk, unable to meet Derrick’s eyes, “Anyhow, slavery, or ‘involuntary indenture’ as we prefer to call it, only exists due to the present state of emergency. I expect that when things return to normal, we will be able to dispense with it once again.” He shuddered. “It’s so primitive…”

“Maybe…” Derrick said. He quickly turned the conversation around to the men captured from the clinic. “It’s real bad,” he remarked, shaking his head sadly. “One of the guys was a homie of mine. Do you know where they was took to?”

“Yes.” Chad named a small town just north of the state border. “Don’t worry about your friend, though. I’m organising a raid next week and those bastards won’t know what hit them. We’ll soon have him and the others safely back with us…”

Derrick headed home and efficiently made the necessary preparations. The Boss was still staring silently out of his study window, so apart from informing him that he would be absent for a while, he kept his master out of it.

Two hours later, he and three of the crew were speeding north in the small jeep. Just in case, they were all heavily armed and wearing their combat gear with bullet-proof vests. The trunk was piled high with narcotics of various descriptions. Derrick knew that he had to act fast. Lieutenant Harris’ planned raid might easily go wrong. It could turn into a bloodbath in which the prisoners would all lose their lives. The man that he was after was far too perfect for him to risk that happening…

The town had, before the pandemic, been a fishing port and popular tourist attraction, with its old, white-painted timber houses and old world atmosphere. Now it was a burnt out wreck of a place from which this raider gang terrorised the surrounding districts. The raiders were led by a Caucasian alpha male named Howie. Apparently, before the pandemic, he had been a lowly school janitor. Now, he was a hulking hairy brute with massive tusks and a single horn growing out of his forehead like a unicorn. The gang was holed up inside what had been the town’s police station and it was only after protracted shouting between Derrick and Howie’s guards that the great leader of the raiders appeared in person.

“I hear you got slaves to sell,” Derrick called out. He pointed to the jeep behind him. I got a trunk load of weed, crack and crystal meth here if you’re interested in a trade…”

Howie ordered one of his men to go down and inspect the contents of the trunk.

“Yeah, I got slaves,” Howie said, once the veracity of the black man’s story had been confirmed.

“I only want the Oriental one,” Derrick called back. “What will it take?”

The negotiations went on for some time, but at last, the drugs were handed over and the man Derrick had come for was sitting safely between two crew members in the back of the jeep. He was clutching a leather document folder to his chest and looked incredibly frightened.

“Calm down, man,” Derrick said to him. “No harm is gonna come to you; you’re safe now…”

“How did you get them to let me go?” the man asked.

“Don’t ask…” Derrick had taken the narcotics from his master’s stash without permission, and most of them were traded away, but he knew that the transaction would be worth it…

Before his depression descended on him, the Boss had confided to Derrick that he planned to add a third body slave to his stable. He already had a European and a Hispanic, so the perfect addition would be a beautiful smooth Oriental man. “I will call her ‘Shanghai,” he had added. The problem was that smooth men without horns or tusks of some kind were now incredibly rare. Although the virus had affected a few guys in that way, rendering their bodies totally hairless, most had also developed far less feminine characteristics to compensate. To find an Asian guy who matched Tyrese Diamond’s tastes was an almost impossible task. However, tonight, Derrick had secured the perfect candidate for his beloved Boss…

Back at the warehouse, Derrick summoned London and Rio to help him complete the transformation. When the Oriental saw the two bitches approaching in their high heels and fish-net stockings, he immediately sensed what was going to happen to him…

“No! Please! Take me to Fort Heritage!” He rummaged in the folder he carried for a particular document. “You don’t realise who I am…”

“Quiet!” Derrick shouted, bitch-slapping him with the back of his hand and knocking the folder out of his grip. The man’s papers scattered all over the floor. He turned to Rio and London. “Get some handcuffs and a gag; we gonna have to tie him up…”

By the time the tattoo artist arrived, the new slave had been pretty much cowed into submission. Firmly held down on Derrick’s bed, he did not move as ‘Shanghai’ was inked onto his left buttock.

“You’re gonna look so pretty for the Boss,” Derrick said as he admired the beautiful flowing script. He turned to the tattooist. “Do the same on his right pectoral,” he said, “like you done with the other two bitches…”

Once the tattoos were completed, the slave appeared to resign himself to the situation. He did not protest as the tight leather corset was laced up around his waist, or when the fishnet stockings were slid up his shapely legs. His long, straight, black hair had been tied into a pony tail with a leather thong. Once Rio had finished re-styling it, he had a cascade of well-groomed, sleek, ebony hair befitting a beautiful Oriental body-slave. London painted his finger and toenails a bright pink shade which perfectly matched the glossy lipstick that Rio brushed over his lips. Some blusher on the cheeks, false lashes and mascara around the eyes and he was almost ready for presentation to the Boss. The final step was slipping on the six-inch stiletto heels…

Tyrese did not move when the polite knock came and his bedroom door slowly opened. As always, he lay prone under the silken sheets staring at the ceiling, waiting for fitful sleep to finally come.

“What is it?” he asked, in his usual bored, flat tone.

Derrick leaned over him. “Boss, I got you a present,” he said. “Look…”

Tyrese sat up in bed and, for the first time in many months, saw something that interested him.

Standing beside Derrick was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He had high cheekbones and his narrow, slanting eyes were dark brown. His straight black hair hung down over perfectly smooth, pale shoulders. The tight corset he wore gave him an hour-glass figure, perfectly accentuating his thrusting pectoral muscles, large nipples and shapely bubble-butt. He had incredibly long, silky-smooth legs…

“Her name is ‘Shanghai’, just like you wanted,” Derrick said.

Tyrese felt his musk rising for the first time in weeks. His dick was already beginning to moisten with man-gel. He got out of bed and stood over the lovely Oriental slave. He gently lifted her chin and stared into her eyes.

“Shanghai…” he said, softly.

The slave gazed up at the handsome, light-skinned black man. Even wearing high-heels, this alpha male was at least a foot taller and towered over him. Those olive green eyes and the delicious scent of his musk were totally overpowering. All the complaints and demands he had planned to make evaporated. “Yes, Master…”

“You must call me ‘Master Daddy’…” Tyrese said.

“Yes, Master Daddy…”

“Kneel down and open your pretty mouth, Shanghai. My daddy-dick needs some serious loving…”

Shanghai sank to her knees and parted her bright pink lips.

Chuckling to himself, Derrick closed the master bedroom door behind him and headed back to his own area of the apartment to catch a few hours sleep. He felt sure that the Boss was well on the road to recovery. Just as he withdrew, the Boss had grabbed the bitch’s head and had started face-fucking her in earnest. Tyrese Diamond was back in business!

Inside his bedroom, he saw Shanghai’s papers still scattered all over the floor where they had fallen. Bending down, he picked them up and headed to the cellar to dispose of them in the furnace. As he walked down the steps, the top document caught his eye. It was a certificate saying that ‘Doctor Lee Chong, M.D.’ had been awarded a Master’s Degree in Medicine at King’s College London, England. Well, you got a whole new life ahead of you now, baby, Derrick thought as he pulled open the oven door and consigned the whole lot to the flames.

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