If Geeks Ruled the World. . .Would testosterone still exist?

He was in a plain white room. There was nothing in the decor to stimulate the senses.  He was chained to a bolted chair, wearing prison orange. A woman and her bodyguard walked in.  They were followed by four round, floating conference cams.  The cams represented the Elite Reassignment Counsel.

The jock smiled, amused at this woman and her symbolic guard.  So unnecessary with the chains and chair wired to shock him into submission should he even try to stand.  He wondered what would it be like to force her into submission.  She was so damn prissy, so damn proper! 

Her heels clicked harshly across beige tile floor.  She sat above him, positioned carefully on an old steel desk.  The cams hovered above her.  Tuning the others out, he focused on the black rectangle glasses perched on the end of her pert nose. It had the jock fantasizing what it would be like to grab them off of her face and fling them at the wall.  Her hazel eyes were unreadable as she read pronounced his sentence.  They were condemning him to a life time of servitude to the Needs Education Ruling Domain (Nerd) Elite.  He leaned forward, accepting the inevitable.  How would the sentence change if he reached over and slid his had up her plaid, A-line skirt? Of their own violation his muscular thighs began to rise, to make thought a reality.  He felt a warning current through the back of this legs and immediately leaned back.

She must have sensed his desire for she crossed her legs primly and yanked her wayward hem back down.  Her eunuch bodyguard, programmed to respond to her every mood, tensed and moved a step closer toward him.  He smirked at the manless man. It's not like he could do anything.  He closed his eyes and continued his fantasy.  She interrupted his sinning with an occaisonal, "Do you understand John Henry James?"  He would nod obediantly for the video recorders.  If only those damn recorders could watch his hands as they pulled her hair from her bun, yanked it back and exposed her white neck to his merciless attack. 

Her monotone voice washed over him, lulled him into complacency and out of fantasy.  He lazily observed the huge eunuch.  He realized idly that he knew him from High School.  They played against each other in intramural sports.  They had both gone on to play pro ball but for different leagues. "Well, that's a consolation! "  He thought,"At least I'm not having my balls deactivated!"

Her voice broke into his relief.  He was startled by her sudden sharp tone.  "The N.E.R.D will come for you in two hours.  Please be aware that you will be given hormone cocktail shots for several years and should this prove ineffective at calming your overactive testosteone, the next step will be castration."  John Henry James frantically glanced back and forth between her and the eunuch.  The eunuch was now smirking back at him.  But her eyes looked more green now, alive and intense.  She bit her bottom lip as she looked him over.  Shrugging, a decision reached, she waved the cams and her bodyguard toward the door.  As they went through, she pretended to follow, took a step back, slammed the door closed and locked it.  She punched in some codes by the door, ordered him to stand. "It's turned off, come on, let's go!"

Thinking she was leading him to freedom, he blindly followed through the mysterious sliding door and dimly lit hallways. They climbed stairs and burst out into the hot air of the summer night. His hands still shackled.  He struggled to maintain his balance over the rough terrain.  He was planning how he could show his gratitude, by helping her realize that she's a woman when he became aware that he was alone.  He stopped, a feeling of dread crawled up his spine.  Helicopters approached with search lights shining right on his position. There was no pretense of searching.  He feel to his knees, no sign of the testosterone that had made him such a great player and lover.  The rumors of the N.E.R.D Elite's actual agenda sucked the life right out of him.  He was doomed to a humilation so great, and no way to die.  He looked up as the helicopters landed.  The dust violently stirred began to slow with the blades.  His massive body began to shake and his sobs became louder as his watched them approach.  He knew it was pimply faced, bony and fat, overachieving teenagers of rich parents that were coming  now. . .coming now for their new toy. . .

Cling

Why do you cling to me
I don't have the answers to your neediness
Why do you place the bag over my head
do you think
having me suffocate in your love
will have me die loving you?
The more you hold on
the more I hate you
let me go
let me be free
Tying the noose around my neck
will not make me say the words you want to hear
But perhaps
it'll end both our suffering
as you kick the chair of freedom out
from under my feet
What will you think
as you remove the bag, moist with my last breath
as you massage the bruises around my broken neck
tenderly laying the rope aside
will you realize now, that my arms are as limp in death
as they were in life
that it was your arms that clung so desperately to me
because I could not,
would not
love you back?

Goddess Moon

Driving, focusing intently on the black ribbon stretching endlessly ahead, I groan. Highway 50, Moundhouse, so ugly and barren with its steel buildings, junk yards, whorehouses, whore-trailers, more like! My negative energy building as quickly as the light fades. A blood red disc suddenly reflects in my rear view mirror, my eyes caught, startled by the unfamiliar color of mother moon, hazy, floating seductive and lazy above the hills behind me. I pull over, gravel crunching under the worn tires, too noisy for this night. Slowly in the twilight I get out, face the goddess resting on her dark throne and stare. She's full and sinister tonight, the queen crone. Spirits restlessly shifting behind the veil of All Hallow's Eve. They are waiting for believers to release them home. I close my eyes, her image burning commands into my mind. So female, round and perfect, I murmur prayers that only Diana can understand. Her answer opens the dimensional doors. I hear them rush by, creating a wind that stirs my dress away from my legs and lifts my hair. Opening my eyes, fear labors my breath, I watch, relieved that the clear shadows had no interest in the living below. The dark lifts, the atmosphere is clear. The moon continues to rise from her seat, the gracious goddess of silver light once more.

New to the community

Hi! New to all this and finding it fun! Looking forward to mastering my computer skills, meeting people and learning what's out there! Plus I'm being encouraged by my friends and families to come out of my shell and what better way to do it then by having pseudo-anonymity to begin the journey. Time for "Emily Dickinson" to step a toe outside. Here's to finding out the world is more heaven than hell.
SMG