My boss, the one who paid for the sex-change surgery, has a very high social status. He needs me for entertainment purposes. He’ll use me regularly himself, but then also he’ll slip me into the beds of people like you — potential business partners. As a, like, sign of trust and good will. Yeah, you guessed it: the orgy today was put on by my boss. Don’t worry — I’m a real pro. Admit it, you did like it. I could tell!
Believe me, even now I’d keep on honestly fulfilling my work obligations, but the boss hasn’t sent me to a refresher camp for three years already. Of course, that’s to my credit. The fact is, I’ve never really been submitting, I’ve just been faking it. I’ll let you in on a little secret: my boss, he’s not even a homo, but he really likes that feeling of domination. During the orgies, I’ll usually toss some sleepers into people’s drinks, and as soon as my lay falls asleep, the boss’ll come in and have his way with you. Oh, calm down — so what? He had you. He uses lubricants and rubbers. His lays can’t report him, ‘cause then they themselves would fall under theArticle, and that’d mean property confiscation and castration. It ain’t worth getting so worked up about! After all, you had me, and you liked it. Come on: more submission!
There he is, lying on top of your buddy with his pants down. You know what he likes to say? “Look around, keep in mind: someone might fuck you from behind.” You don’t think it’s funny? I think it’s hilarious. This little saying helped me to come to grips with why everybody’s so scared of faggots. Because, like, for you, sex is something one-sided; you don’t give of yourself, you take. No, no, hear me out — I need to tell this to somebody. OK, fine, go ahead and screw him so you can settle down. You’re right, it’s only fair. Yeah, I know, you can’t feel anything below the waist. That’s ‘cause of the anesthetics. Here, I’ll help you.
So how was it? Yeah, I think it’s disgusting, too. Like, aesthetically speaking, I haven’t cared for a long time who’s fucking who. As long as there’s love there. I knew you wouldn’t get it. But truth is, it’s all real simple. Listen, listen, I’ve almost said everything I have to say. And the door’s locked, and you can’t walk anyway.
I studied history. Do you know how it went down? Like, how they died, all those women? Of course you don’t — you’re the same age as me, after all. Nobody talks about it, ‘cause it turns out they all have blood on their hands.
The virus brought on an acute attack of misogyny in everybody — in men, and women, and children. In just about 24 hours, the Earth turned into a huge slaughterhouse. They used everything, whatever was at hand. Women were strangled, poisoned, hanged, cut, chopped, and beaten to death … Yeah, when I found out about that, my face probably looked just like yours right now. But over these last fifteen years, the men forgot all about it. Hey, what’s done is done. Why beat yourself up about it? They just forgave themselves — easy as that.
Of course, after the mass slaughter, when the female pheromones stopped circulating in the air (see, that’s what was causing all the hate), afterwards everybody saw what had happened. And they freaked, they were pulling out their hair — what were they gonna do now? And it wasn’t even about demographics — reproduction of the species, they took care’a that right away, with cloning.
The problem was just: no women. Who was gonna raise children now, and how? What was gonna happen to families when the children born from women grew up? And the most important thing — who’re we gonna fuck? In the West, no problem: everybody there’s a butt-fucker, so they didn’t have anything new to get used to, but what about us? In our country, faggotry’s all about sin and hellfire. And now? Are you kidding me? I gotta spread my asshole for some shit-licker with a moustache?
They tried to clone women, but the damn virus couldn’t be cured. The cloned female organisms right away made the men all crazy mad again, and they killed ‘em all. And there weren’t enough synthetic women to go around. So how were they gonna get out of this shit? Nobody just wants to wank off to porno; everybody wants, like, warmth, togetherness. Well, forget togetherness! Everybody’s forgotten about that.
Believe it or not, there was a time when we made women into goddesses. Then we did a 180 — and didn’t even think of them as people. Then women started to win back for themselves the right to be equal with men. But men don’t want equality. To be equal with someone means not just taking, but giving back, too. Men aren’t down for giving back. Giving back is weakness. When women saw the men’s strategy for what it was — just taking and taking — that’s when we had the cataclysm, and after that only half of humanity was left. It was, like, a challenge from nature. Just like the Ents, we had our wives taken away, and we just got left here to fend for ourselves. What do the Entwives have to do with anything? Good question. What do you think: sooner or later, would the stronger Ents have come up with the idea of fucking the other Ents, the weaker ones? If they did, then they would’ve fucked each other all the way down to our level, to people.
Ah, you just now noticed that my hands are all bloody? Thanks, that means my story was a real page-turner. Look over here! Do you know what’s in this bowl? The object of pride and self-identity of every man here. I amputated ‘em, every last one. Don’t worry, I studied the procedure carefully, and practiced a long time. I didn’t do any harm to your friends’ health, or my boss’. I sterilized all the instruments, the incisions are all iced, so the doctors’ll save everybody’s life. For me it’s really, really important that you live. Oh, don’t move, please. I might nick your femoral artery and you’ll bleed to death. You all’re gonna make ten amazing women — beautiful, smart, young — every man’s dream. And I’m sure you won’t submit — you’ll pass on my message.
All done. Good boy! Hear that? There’s the sirens. They’re for you. I forgot to say, the boss really valued my opinion. He invited you all based on my recommendation. And why not? All former classmates, all successful people — exactly the kind of partners he needs. He really liked to film his adventures. I reconfigured the tech a little bit, though, so it was broadcasting live on his official channel, so the whole world saw the orgy in HD, beginning to end. And your little adventure, too. Article 121, Section 1. Though I guess I already carried out the sentence for the crime.
Forgive me, Zheka. Try not to think about what’s coming up as, like, a punishment. Think of it more like a new experience.
I love you. Not like a homo. For real.
ALEXEI LUKYANOV (born 1976, Bryansk) is an intriguing representative of the new generation of fantasy writers. Since his literary debut in 2000, he has been widely published in leading literary magazines and book series. His innovative writing, sharp satire, and outstanding imagination have been recognized by the Pushkin Prize, awarded in 2006 for his short story “The Petrograd Savior”, and the Bronze Snail Award, for his novella Deep Drilling in 2010. He is a two time finalist for Russia’s Debut Prize.
VERONICA MUSKHELI was born and raised in Russia but immigrated to the US at the age of twenty. For many years she was a researcher in a heart biology lab. But then she switched from biological bodies to cultural. Currently, Veronica is writing her dissertation on Russian female folklore and Russian contemporary literature at the University of Washington in Seattle, which involves translating a variety of texts from Russian into English.
JOSÉ ALANIZ, associate professor in the Department of Slavic Languages and Literatures and the Department of Comparative Literature (adjunct) at the University of Washington — Seattle, authored