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Com ;) ) grow more rare with each passing day. The world as a whole was growing closer to being the world of a certain movie; extremely low IQs, no food, etc. I couldn't let that happen, but I'm getting ahead of myself.You see... Oh wait. I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is...not important. You can call me Alex. I am a research scientist working for [REDACTED]. We study various things, but the area of research relevant to our story is the field of genetic and biological change. Let me explain. The research into genetic modification had been mandated by President Trampe in order to prove to the world that his orange butt had not conspired with foreign interests against the Unified Society of America. Most people found his antics tiresome and a few found him downright criminal. Sadly, a noticeable number of people in the USA supported him. The experts felt his election was another symptom of the decline of the country. [REDACTED] felt the same way and began a research. “But...?” I asked feeling my cock stiffen, thinking this was still a bit of dirty talk texting. She didn’t respond, I assumed she got busy at work, it’s hard for a nurse to find free time at work sometimes. About half an hour later my phone buzzed again. I glanced down and saw it was another text from my wife. “So we went to lunch.”“Yeah? How was it?”“The lunch was fine, burgers, the company was nice.”“That’s good.”“Now dessert, that was much better.”“What was dessert?” I asked.“It was a bit of chocolate, here I’ll send a pic I took of it.”The pic came through and I recognized the interior of my wife’s mini van, I also recognized the wedding band on my wife’s finger the one that matched the band on my finger. What I didn’t recognize was the large black cock that hand was wrapped around. I stared at the picture, taking it in. Here was my wife’s hand wrapped around another man’s cock. As my mind reeled from it the next picture arrived.In this one my wife was leaned down over it and her.
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I hated elevator music. I drove while it played. I yawned while it played. I almost fell asleep it while it played. My eyes shot open. That was it. That was how Lawyers made their money. They played elevator music while on hold. It drove a person to start thinking random thoughts and then BAM! They were so numb from boredom that when the caller returned to the real world, they would agree to anything. I listened more closely to the music. Were those music notes actually codes that were programming me to do whatever the voice would command me to do? Oh yes. . .I heard them. The voice of Squeaky Red returned. ‘He can fit you in at one o’clock,’ she said. One o’clock! No that wouldn’t do. I had to take the News Team down. Damn. The News Team. The Lawyer. Shit, no choice there. ‘Sure, I’ll talk to him at one.’ I hung up the cell phone and switched gears. Thinking gears that is. I pulled into the gas station and found a telephone book hanging from a chain that was attached to the pay.

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