There are many motivating forces driving the advancement of science and the progression of human knowledge. Some, probably far fewer than I would like to admit, are driven by a genuine need to advance the species or, at the very least, to add to the collected learning of humankind. Others seek fame and glory from their work, a way to be lauded by their peers and recognised by all once they have shuffled off this mortal coil and left their works as a legacy to the world. Others, rather unspectacularly, just seek to make a living out of what they have always been good at, and they merely stumble across some discovery or invention that has a profound impact upon Man’s collective knowledge. And a few, thankfully very few, have their scientific experiments driven by a deep and undeniable curiosity, a need to say “What will happen if…”? This can sometimes be undeniably malevolent, as in the case of Mengele and his placing people in pressure chambers or sewing up their urethras just to see what would happen. And other times it can be rather more pointless in the grander scheme of things, such as calculating the centrifugal forces in operation when correctly stirring a cup of tea. The discovery of the SEX2 gene by Dr Emanuel Kokoschka, even though he was himself a noted degenerate and colossal pervert, was in fact almost entirely motivated by the latter impulse.
On discovering the gene sequence and noting it often was only partially expressed in humans, he utilized CRISPR technology to ensure that the gene, regardless of other epigenetic factors, would be fully expressed. Kokoschka took feverish notes as he observed his first batch of genetically altered lab rats, going into exquisite and, from a scientific perspective, almost entirely superfluous detail as they mounted each other and thrust away manically, spraying vermin semen like little angry red fire hoses as they pumped and shafted and shagged away in a manic sexual frenzy.
Even as jaded an old pervert as Kokoschka could see little actual practical purpose in his discovery, but motivated out of both scientific and salacious curiosity he persevered with his efforts. He next altered and fully activated the gene in some macaque monkeys, the primates almost immediately on waking jumping on each other in their cages to writhe and thrust and grind, fucking away until their organs bled, their pelvic muscles cramped and, eventually, they expired from fatigue or dehydration.
There seemed to be no genuine way of actually marketing his discovery despite the fact that Kokoschka’s tangential studies indicated that the gene seemed to be already activated in porn stars and in those that Kokoschka, with genuine debauched affection, regarded as whores and sluts. The development of some kind of “skank test” crossed his mind although the number of those who would actually feel the need to take such a test seemed to be vanishingly small. The priapic properties of his discovery lead to him mulling over its possibilities as some form of treatment for erectile dysfunction, although the rapacious changes in behavior and overwhelmingly fatal nature of the unsatisfiable erections did seem to be somewhat of a drawback.
And so it seemed his discovery of the SEX2 gene and its purpose would have slipped into the footnotes of genetics textbooks never to be considered again had the military, perhaps even more perceptive and insightful than Kokoschka himself, not seen military value in the weaponisation of his discovery. If the gene could be placed within a washed off viral sheath, it could then be dropped upon enemy divisions in aerosolized form and the opposing forces would then be rendered incapable of effective resistance as they would be too engaged in rutting – either each other, domestic pets, or rolling around by themselves, fists a blur – to mount any kind of effective resistance. Similarly, if dropped on an enemy’s civilian population, entire cities could be rapidly turned into Dionysian orgies of uncontrollable fucking – infrastructures useless, supply lines cut, hospitals and law enforcement rendered ineffective – all with zero material damage to property or physical assets.
So keen were the military to test their new toy, they created the opportunity to deploy the weapon within a period of time that even Kokoschka considered indecent. The city of Al Hasakah in northern Syria was selected, as it housed a large and effective resistance force as well as a strategically important oil supply line, the usefulness of which was forever uncertain due to their activities.
At 10 AM on 23 July, the SEX2 viral-gene weapon was deployed and, following a small detonation, a cloud of acrid smelling fuck-gas rolled slowly throughout the city blocks, billowing between high rises like a slow motion flood.
Within hours the city was naked, bloodied, stripped of clothes and flesh, as they screwed themselves raw, mountains of citizenry thrusting and pumping in two-storey flesh mountains with others leaping onto them, eagerly seeking any hole or gap or piece of meat that they could penetrate.
However, despite their secret use of the mutagenic weapon, top brass on seeing drone footage of the foul scenes of unbridled carnality in the streets below, got cold feet and so decided to backtrack as much as they could to hide the very existence of the weapon which they now viewed as horrific in its degenerate efficiency. So it was that large palettes of food, electrolyte drinks and amino acid nutritional packs were dropped on the city, soaked with pheromones so that the sex crazed natives, once they had stopped trying to fuck them, could eventually replace their rapidly dwindling energy and fluid stores. Kokoschka himself was deployed on the outskirts of the city in a makeshift military lab to study the samples collected from the citizenry so that he could possibly formulate a cure before news of this new Gomorrah and the military’s role in it, spread to the wider world.
Yet, however it happened, no-one is sure how, news somehow spread of the fuck-city despite the stringent quarantine and military imposed blackout and soon tourists started to arrive, one or two at a time at first, but soon by the coach load, drawn by stories from the most seedy parts of the Dark Web. Eventually the military were not just repelling a handful of sex tourists drawn from amongst the world’s most debauched perverts, but they were futilely trying to stop convoys of virgins, incels and even the more daring of stag dos, from reaching the city’s limits to join the untrammeled fucking within.
It soon became apparent that news of the fuck-city could no longer be hidden from the world’s mainstream media, so it was that an increasingly desperate military – based on a suggestion from Kokoschka himself – decided to no longer try secrecy but to instead utilise disinformation. Kokoschka was chosen to be the mouthpiece for a stunning new “scientific discovery”, a city where the local populace, due to a perfectly natural and spontaneously occurring genetic mutation, exhibited extreme disinhibition, insatiable carnal lusts and boundless sexual energy. Since the existence of the place could no longer be denied, they may as well utilize half-truths to hide their own part in its creation. The place had already become a magnet for sex tourists despite the military checkpoints and orders to shoot trespassers on sight, so the public announcement concerning Al Hasakah lead to tens of thousands of horny, lonely, eager travelers arriving, ready to sample the sexual delights and excesses within the city limits. Enterprising developers started to build hotels on the outskirts of the city to cater to these visitors, attached health spas offering massages to overworked pelvic muscles and torn lower backs.
And so Kokoschka continued his secret work into a cure as the tourist industry around what came to be known as Porno Park expanded and grew, its frenzied, lusting citizenry the willing victims of salacious perverts from around the world.
But then one day, as is the way with nature, the stripped viral sheath Kokoschka used to insert new amino acids into the genome to deactivate the SEX2 gene did something unexpected. Whether this was just the fiendishly complicated nature of genetic manipulation fighting back against clumsy human interference, or if Kokoschka, fresh from one of his regular “fact finding surveys” within the city limits, and full of Courvoisier and amyl nitrate, had somehow made an error is uncertain, but in one particular bonobo chimp, the new genetic trigger not only failed to sedate the terminally horny ape but was also carried by the supposedly deactivated virus into the air. Within a day, all the creatures in Kokoschka’s sordid lab were frenziedly fucking each other, across species, across ages, mice with frogs, monkeys with rats, eyes rolling back in their heads, and dry tongues lolling from gawping mouths. Even Katie, Kokoschka’s new lab assistant was infected, proving the gene-virus could infect humans, something Kokoschka noted as he watched her cavort with the various beasts in his lab with his trousers wrapped around his ankles. For several hours.
Thankfully, due to excessive drug use and his monstrous sexual proclivities, Kokoschka’s libido had long since become jaded to the point of burning out, so he was able to maintain enough sensibility to try and clean up the mess with a claw hammer, a pick axe handle and some domestic bleach.
However despite his most meticulous and stringent methods of sterilization – splashing Domestos over all the bloodied and semen-drenched surfaces – the newly developed gene-virus somehow managed to escape into the wider world.
It started slowly at first, Kokoschka noting one or two people being chased by others as he drove back to his digs, swollen members swinging from side to side as they ran, almost hitting one as, his fingers sticky with blood, he swerved to avoid them. He was awoken the next day by screams from outside and on looking out of the window he was greeted with the vision of large groups of people, well beyond the city limits and who had clearly never been exposed to the initial mutagenic detonation, rolling in a roiling sea of naked, thrusting, sweaty flesh as they groaned and moaned and screamed in ecstasy. Overhead he saw a drone filming the sexual chaos around him and he wondered how long it would be before its distant operators were themselves tearing their clothes from their bodies and grinding and thrusting away for a release from desire that would never come.
Kokoschka felt a swelling in his previously numbed nethers as he watched the debauchery gradually spread from beyond Porno Park to distant hamlets on hills many miles away. And as he watched escaping helicopters first wobble then tip then explode as they plunged into the ground as their pilots frenziedly attempted to reach climax before they died, even Kokoschka felt a tinge of shame that he was momentarily relieved that what was obviously soon to be a global fuck-demic meant he would at least escape the blame for it.
But then he gathered his thoughts, undid his belt and dropping his trousers to his knees, proudly thrust forward to face the future.