The Problem with Men (Closed for TheFarthestWriter)

[Apollo Wilde]

Quite some time ago…

“Okay, it’s…” a pause, rustling of papers. “Okay, so I don’t really know what day it is, because I’ve been down here in the lab for so long, but I’m just this close to uncovering a breakthrough. I think it’s going to be a breakthrough, anyway.” A deep breath. “Okay, Tony, go ahead and start image capture. I think I’m good to start through seriously.”

“Of course, sweetness.”

Her image flickered in front of her - large as life, capturing her features perfectly, right down to her wild emerald curls. Owlish glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose, and her arms were full of papers. In this age of instant data transmission, she was an adorable anachronism, preferring to write things down. Indeed, her fingers were stained with ink. She was of average height, smooth brown skin, and whatever figure she had was well-hidden under her large white lab coat and scrubs beneath it. She had the look of someone playing make-believe - from the smallness of her stature to her nearly impossibly large light violet eyes. In fact, she looked all the world the gangly teenager she was.

“Women of the Academy, I’m Dr. Natalie Shostakovich. As of late, it has come to the Academy’s attention that the sperm of men has become less viable over the last few years At first, this was largely considered hear-say - anecdotes passed down from citizen women who opted to go through the natural birthing process instead of using the D.N.A. organ or proxy. Here at my practice, it became such a trend to hear this from normally, and even exceptionally, fertile women that it made me pause. I’ve got a few theories as to why I think that is, but my primary belief is that we’ve been breeding men out of existence. As more and more male replacements are developed, the role of biological men has slowly, but surely, become to be edged out of our society. I believe that in order to resolve this problem, we must look at eugenics - perhaps some genetic enhancement to the current male population.”

She paused, seemed flustered by something happening off the screen. “I believe that in keeping the male of the species desegregated greatly diminishes the genetic pool, and what we’re experiencing now is only going to get worse. We’re rapidly approaching a genetic bottleneck. We, as a society, have focused only on the merits of breeding the best women possible, so much so that people such as myself, with a Ph.d. at fifteen, are becoming all the more common place. But why the push for excellence so young? In doing so, we constrict our natural breeding abilities as women-”

The image ripples, then stills.

“Lights.” The room brightens, revealing the young woman sitting in the center of the room, her hands tightly closed over her lap, her coat bunched in them. The seating in the room was stadium style, and in the center, she was in the direct line of sight for the 30 women that made up the Global Academy of the Sciences. The room was still, painfully silent after her presentation was cut short.

“Dr. Shostakovich, you can understand why the Academy has chosen not to offer you funding for this…project.”

“But I’ve got solid data that this is a trend-“
“Your data is irrefutably flawed-” started one of the women. Dr. Shostakovich visibly flinched.

The Headwoman gave the outspoken woman a soft glare, and she picked up the thread of the conversation.

“I believe what Dr. Hendrick meant to say is that you’ve only looked at a minor sampling of viable women - and not just that, but on the low income side as well. There are plenty of mitigating factors that your proposal does not take into account.”

“But-”

“The answer, again, is no.”

Dr. Shostakovich fought the burn of tears in her eyes, swallowed hard, and nodded.

____

And that’d really been the beginning of the end of it all for her.

Sure, she had a few other major breakthroughs in her career (how could she not, having started so young), but her heart was still drawn to the male issue. And the gods be dammed, there really WAS a male issue! Every year, since her original project wasn’t funded, she’d gotten more and more stories of male fertility dropping by astronomical rates. Cobbling money together wherever she could (including underselling patents that, by right, should have made her a millionaire several times over), she tried to run a study of her own. It’d quickly dawned on her that it wasn’t just the money that was the problem - it was the coordination. It was finding people who agreed with her research. At first, she thought she’d be able to at least get a research assistant from one of her undergrads, but that was a pipe dream. Men were too disposable; too dumb to be considered for anything other than pleasure.

The Academy had a long memory. The original Headwoman passed, and her protege, Dr. Hendrick, took a perverse pleasure in embarrassing Dr. Shostakovich whenever even the hint of an opportunity to do so came up. The loss of her privileges had been fairly minor - at least on the academic front. The number of classes she was allowed to offer shrank. The publications that she used to have her pick of? Well, those shrunk back, too. She was still able to make a comfortable living (and work on her ever constant companion, the A.I. Tony), but she was steadily losing academic credibility, and that would…well…if she was going to be honest with herself, that’d kill her whole reason for living.

So it should have been a point of immense vindication when the announcement was made public - the pool of fertile men was indeed growing smaller. And perhaps it would have redeemed her all together, if there hadn’t been a wave of other doctors clamoring for the spotlight. One, Dr. Gupta, yes, that was the one that had drawn Dr. Shostakovich’s ire. Dr. Gupta was now the darling of the Academy - simply because she said she had a way of reproducing without men. It was in its formative stages, yes, and crude and painful, but it could be done.

Natalie wasn’t one for swearing, but foul language leapt from her tongue like water on a hot skillet when the announcement was made. It wasn’t out of jealousy, or anger. It was out of sheer frustration - if only she had the funding, no, better yet, if she even had a good test subject! One good test subject, and she knew she could prove her theory to be the correct one. And, better yet, the more sustainable one!

 

[TheFarthestWriter]

"For many of you, Dr. Phoenix Gray requires no introduction. It's too easy but I'm going to say it anyway: he does bear, in his career, the same trajectory as that of the mythical bird that is his namesake."

The audience liked that one, judging by their boisterous laughter. Certainly none of them needed the introduction to the myth of the Phoenix, seeing that they were, every last one of them, distinguished members of the Academy of Science. All of them with their degrees, and their big fat brains and tiny little cocks had gathered in the same auditorium in New York City to honor the recipients of some of the most renown grants that "the Academy" offered. It was however, the only laugh they'd be getting tonight, and so Pheonix let them enjoy it. He knew they were all bleeding inside.

Before the laughter from Professor Stone's reference to the mythical bird had died down, he continued, "Dr. Gray rose from the ashes of his work on prions, to soar above us all on the wings of his discovery of the NK54 Virus, its structure being the apparent evolutionary template - the prototype - from which all other viruses evolved. Dr. Gray himself coined the term "evolutionary template" itself, in his seminal paper on the virus, raising the curiosity and criticism of many throughout the scientific community. The Academy of Sciences is pleased to offer its most distinguished 'Manhattan Grant', in the very same city, to Dr. Gray, for further research on the applications of this tremendous finding. Please give a hand, for Dr. Phoenix Gray."

I'll text you later.

Why? I want to talk to you now.

We can fuck later, I have to go give a speech now.

I'm waiting for you, make it quick.

Phoenix Gray slipped his phone into his pocket and stood from his seat on the stage. At 5 foot 11, and wore a salt-and-pepper 5 o'clock shadow to go with his thin, black rimmed glasses. Everything about him, at this event in any rate, screamed "distinguished": a favorite word of the self obsessed members of the Academy of Science. On this most rare of occasions, he donned a tux, – black of course – his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed, parted from the side. He was slender but well-built, with shaped shoulders and a defined chest. His most ardent admirers in reality were probably the college girls in his undergraduate seminars, not the pricks he stood in front of right now. The same pricks five years ago had laughed him off the stage when he had presented his theory on prion mediated-immunity.

"Everyone knows prions are pathogen Dr. Gray", he was stupidly told.

Jokes on them now. He didn't mind that they laughed at his expense with all the "Phoenix" jokes. The bottom line was he was getting a multimillion dollar research grant. And they were watching him get it. And now, he was going to give his "fuck you" speech. Then after that he was going to go fuck professor Stone's daughter.

"Thank you Dr Stone. Ladies and gentlemen of the distinguished Academy of Sciences." Well, mostly gentlemen. The Academy was almost a man's club, if it hadn't been for the last few years of push from the administration to meet their "gender equality quota".

"Five years ago today, I was laughed off the stage for my suggestion that prions were just as much able to transmit immunity as they were pathology. Today, I happily except the Academy's most distinguised grant to study the potential applications of the NK53 virus. Thank you and good evening."

The audience was absolutely silent for the first few moments of Phoenix's leaving the podium. Then, the entire auditorium filled with jeers and boos once they realized that he had given them the proverbial finger, took their money, and walked off the stage.

________________________

"They deserved it." Pheonix said casually as Jess rode him, straddling him on the chair.

"You could've been nice so you know, he is my father after all." Jess mused playfully as her locks of brunette hair bounce at her shoulders.

"Can we not talk about your father right now, this is kind of a sensitive moment."

"Mmm, it is, isn't it." Jess purred as she settled herself completely down over Phoenix's cock, grinding herself against him.

"Oh fuck," Pheonix breathed out. He placed his hands on Jess' hips and she began sliding up and down him again.

"All those people need to fucking relax. Life is so much more than just doing science."

"Can you not talk about science right now? This is kind of a sensitive moment."

"Yeah. Yeah fuck that."

"No. Fuck me."

_____________________________

At 3 o'clock in the morning, Phoenix awoke. He unwrapped himself from Jess's arms, left a note on the kitchen table and left. He had several things he needed to take care of in the morning, and the two of them were going to meet up for dinner the next day anyway.

The tuxedo from the event earlier that night was the only clothes he had on him, so that was what he wore when he got on his bike, donned his black helmet, and took off. The roads of suburban New York were narrow and winding. At night, visibility was reduced for those who didn't know the roads. Phoenix had ridden these roads many times before, but tonight: there was fog. It was the second turn that he took too fast.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, muffled by his helmet as his bike slid off the road and slammed into and through brush. Other than his tux being torn in several places as he rocketed it through some thorny bushes, he was able to stay on the bike, hitting the brakes as hard as he could staying safe. He came to a stop just before a large oak tree, at the beginning of a thick wood.

Pheonix frenetically took of his helmet, his chest heaving, heart pounding. "Holy shit."

He was not more than an inch away from the massive oak tree. Oak Tree vs Pheonix Gray wouldn't have ended well for me, he thought as he got off his bike. He let out a sigh of relief, ran his fingers through his hair, and tucked his helmet under his arm as he assessed his bike for damage.

It looked fine for the most part. Some scratches here and there, but given that he had narrowly escaped becoming tree moss he was grateful. There was an odd, blue shimmer on the bike as well. Phoenix turned to look into the woods. That shimmer wasn't coming from the bike - it was a reflection. He squinted, thinking that he saw a blue glow deeper within the forest. It seemed pulsate. And as Phoenix stood quietly, he heard an usual hum that corresponded to the pulsation of the light. Half afraid yet have mesmerized, the scientist in him took over, and one step after the other lead him to a five foot tall shimmering blue oval hovering one foot above the ground in the middle of the forest.

Pheonix's jaw dropped. He stepped tentatively around the shimmering light, to see that it had not depth to it whatsoever. To call it "sliver thick" wouldn't even have been accurate. Pheonix picked up a rock and threw it into the hovering blue oval - it disappeared. No sound of a rock falling on the other side into the leafy forest floor. He picked up another and stood just at the shimmering oval's side, and popped the rock in, this time watching carefully to see if it would fall out the other side. Nothing.

Pheonix took out his phone and started taking pictures. He took several steps back in front of the shimmering oval, then one step forward. Then another. Then - his next step caught on a tree root, and Pheonix Gray's heart leapt into this throat. Before he knew what was happening, he had fallen face first into the oval. And everything went black.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Hey, babe?”

She rolled over, curling the pillow around her head.

“Babe.”

She rolled over again.

“Babe.”

“….What?” She was half-way asleep, wild hair mussed further. At least she’d actually made it to her bed this time. Now, in the darkness, she fumbled for her glasses on her nightstand. Compared to the rest of her home, her bedroom was actually quite small -again, in comparison to the rest of her home. Her bed took up much of the room there, a massive plush thing covered in pillows and comforters, all in a monochromatic charcoal gray.

“Hate to wake you, but there’s someone in the lab.”

“That’s impossible,” she snorted, finally putting her glasses on. Her clock displayed an hour that was far too early to be considered night and far too late to be considered morning. She sighed, ran a hand through her hair. “No one’s ever in the lab but me.”

“Which is why I woke you up. My readings indicate that there is someone - a human - in the lab. What my readings can’t make out is how he got there.”

“Wait, what? ‘He’?!” She was fully awake now, kicking her way free from her blankets and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The AI, responding to the change in her heart rate, brought the lights up to 50% - enough for her to see by, but not enough to blind her.

“Yes, ‘he’,” Tony sounded as perplexed as she was. The AI’s voice was wonderfully emotive - so much so that uninformed visitors thought that Natalie lived with someone else. The version that of Tony that she’d shared with the public (and what had earned her her first major grant) was much more simplistic - not nearly as intuitive or as empathetic. But, to be fair, Tony was an ongoing project.

“That’s really impossible. There’s not an alpha level male in this district for like, 5 miles. At least the last time I checked. I doubt that Miss Nagi would let Bruce out of her sight.”

“It’s not Bruce, dollface. It’s an unidentified male. He’s not pulling up in any of the registration systems.” A ‘thoughtful pause’ from the AI. “Without a blood sample, I can’t tell you much more about him. Other than he’s unconscious and in front of the restorative chamber. Would you like for me to call the authorities?”

“No, that’s not necessary, Tony”

“Natalie, sweetface, need I remind you that proceeding without contacting the authorities is against about 2 laws. Especially with an unidentified male. This gets out, you run the risk of having legal proceedings pressed against you.”

A pause from her. Knotting her robe tighter about her waist, she sighed. “What’s the probability of getting caught?”

“About…00000.05%.”

“Did you make that number up?”

“I’m unable to lie, due to my programing, but the probability is extremely low. If he is an unregistered male, then it would allow that he’s not missing, and therefore no one would be looking for him.”

“Why do I feel like that’s faulty logic?”

“Could be, babe. There’s an infinite number of possibilities at any given time; some scenarios are more likely than others. The one I provided? One of many.”

“Fair,” she was padding down the stairs now, from her bedroom. Through the living room, and now down a second set of stairs leading down into the lab. Consciously, Tony lit one light after the other, illuminating her way, and turned the lights off as she passed. Tiptoing down into the lab, it was only as she rounded the corner that she thought that, perhaps, it may have been a good idea to have brought a weapon with her. Unarmed, she felt particularly vulnerable.

Stopping, her wide violet eyes scanned over the tables. Stacks and stacks of paper, the occasional pen cup…old cups of coffee….A random beaker half-way filled with something brown. That would have to do. She grabbed it, and continued forward. True to what Tony had said, the man was laying unconscious in front of the large restorative chamber. Cautiously stepping forward, she held the beaker aloft, taking step by small step, holding her breath as she drew near.

 

[TheFarthestWriter]

The first thought that popped into Pheonix's returning consciousness - being that he was a scientist after all - was "hypothermia". Before his eyes could open, his mind has returned to him.

Back of head... hurting.

Lying in the forest... maybe overnight...

Danger of hypo... No. No there was that thing. I fell into it.

Was it real? I was probably shaken up, hallucinating.

"Unnnng," Pheonix moaned, bringing his hand slowly up to his head. His senses now slowly started to accompany his waking mind.

He was on a hard surface.

Blinking his eyes open a blurry figure appeared before him. A female, with... an unusual hair color and her eyes... but Pheonix's vision was still clearing.

Slowly, he sat up. Rubbing his face, holding his head. He must have been hallucinating after the accident. He must have been found and brought here - wherever here was - clearly it wasn't a hospital, because they don't just throw patients unconscious on top of a table strewn with papers. But whatever the case was, he was sure it would make itself apparent soon enough.

"I'm sure, this will start making sense soon. But if you'll just give me a moment, I'm a bit dazed. Not sure who you are and all that." Pheonix looked up at what seemed to be a relatively concerned appearing woman, holding a beaker above her head, with emerald hair and... were those violet contacts? Pheonix kept on blinking. Yeah. She looked somewhat afraid, though not entirely.

"Look," Pheonix raised his hands up slowly l, don't know where I am, or who you are. I was just in an accident and I woke up here. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. Just - if you have a phone I can make a couple of calls, and someone can pick me up. I know a ton of people over in Manhattan - I'm not sure where we are now but I'm sure it can't be far - they can come get me."

The rest of the room was now coming into view. He seemed to be in some kind of laboratory, with this - somewhat attractive if unusual and a bit unkempt - woman standing in front of him. He noticed the beaker again. Clearly it wasn't her first choice of weapon.

"Um, I have no intention to hurt you ma'am, you can put the beaker down."
Pheonix squinted in pain as he raised his arms up a bit higher to show his acquiescence - apparently there was some injury on his left lateral chest that was bothering him.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“S…Stop! Stop right there!” The hand holding the beaker shook, but after her initial stammering words, her voice grew in strength. “Tony, do a scan of our guest here.”

“On it, doll.” The lab lights grew to half-way; not enough to blind, but not enough to leave the room in darkness. And just good enough for her to take a good look at him. Peering through her thick glasses, she dropped her beaker. It fell to the ground with a startlingly loud shatter, the brown liquid spilling everywhere. The smell of coffee wafted from the broken shards, and her face creased into thoughtful. “Huh. I wondered where I’d put that.”

“He’s injured. Massive contusion on the left side, hairline fracture of true ribs 6 and 7. Minor cuts and scrapes. Seems like he’s been in an accident. You’ve been in an accident, haven’t ya, champ?”

Tony’s voice was clearly masculine, and not that of a teenager. And - terrifyingly enough, it came from everywhere. Meanwhile, she was still leaning over him, adjusting her glasses, taking him in. Creeping closer, and closer, and closer, until she was leaning directly over him. Her skin carried the slight fragrance of sandalwood. Tentatively, she reached out, then, growing bolder, took the sides of his face in her hands. Turned his neck this way and that, looking at the way the muscles moved beneath the skin. Gently turning his head back to hers, she clicked her tongue.

“You are quite the fine specimen! Tony, scan for mental damage; he can’t be all sound with this whole ‘Manhattan’ thing.”

“Starting neurological scan now.”

“Male, you’re free to speak, actually, I would prefer for you to.” Her hands moved lower, to his lips. And she pried them apart, opening his mouth, leaning forward to peer into it, examine his teeth. “My god, you are a beauty! Who bred you? Where are you from? Where is this ‘Manhattan’ that you speak? Is it a real place? My earlier scan says that you’re unregistered, but surely someone must have bred you to look like this!” She pulled her fingers from his mouth, moved them to his hair. “Wow! Look at this! Tony, I need hair, blood, urine, semen - whatever fluids he’s got, I need samples of them! You’re currently unclaimed, right? I’m going to register you to myself. Well, I’ve got to figure out where you come from first. The Squadron isn’t going to like just some random male showing up in the middle of nowhere. But you’re the finest specimen I’ve seen in decades and I am not losing this opportunity to study you!”

 

[TheFarthestWriter]

Clearly of all the options, he must have been abducted by some weird mad physicist - that was the only way he could reconcile the blue orb, the current state of affairs and the fact that this frazzled scientist? spoke of 'Manhattan' like it was a new species of bird.

Suddenly Pheonix had a brief view of his entire life up until that point. This particularly odd moment, in which he had trouble reconciling the variety of odd observations that his senses were apparently making, seemed to cast a very "normal" light on what he had up until that point considered a remarkable life. Having been born to a poor family, working throughout his school life, two jobs during college, and then finally finding freedom as he advanced in his studies and gained notoriety, it seemed like a rags-to-somewhat riches story of considerable note. At least that was how he had seen it himself.

Now, that all seemed as banal as Starbucks.

Pheonix sat up as straight as he could on the table without reproducing the pain in his side. He was a scientist after all. He would figure this out. He kept his eyes fixed on the frazzled yet oddly fascinated scientist before him and raised his hands by his chest to indicate a faux-surrender, and slowly slipped himself off the table to stand at full height. He was a good foot higher than the woman that stood before him, who had just a moment ago uttered the gaggles of words that had thrown Pheonix a massive curve ball.

Pheonix, with his gaze fixated intensely on the violet orbs of the woman in the lab coat, his hand still up as if offering peace to an agitated cop, carefully processed everything out loud.

"Okay, look. I don't know what's going on here," his tone seemed to balance between stern and careful, "but I'm sure there is a rational explanation for all of this." Pheonix began, telling himself more than anyone else.

"Let's establish some facts first, shall we? The last thing that I remember was enduring a motorcycle accident on a back road in Westchester County, New York. It was night. It was raining, and my motorcycle slid off the road. From there, I saw some unusual lights in the forest - I haven't ruled out the possibility of hallucination due to head trauma, but I at no point lost consciousness or even hit my head, so I'm not sure how that would happen."

The woman appeared to be listening with intent fascination. Pheonix took it as an indication that he could continue. He lowered his hands slightly, though kept his palms facing forward.

"You seem surprised, and I woke up on this table, so clearly, somehow, I was brought here, and both of us are none the wiser. Now - so far, there's already a huge question on the table, but some of the shit you did and said, along with Tony with his... scans," Pheonix paused, "Well, let's just say I have a lot of questions."

Pheonix didn't let the scientist speak, nor did she seem to want to. She seemed to simply stand in some kind of odd enraptured state, observing him.

"First of all, what kind of technology is this that you can simply 'scan' a body remotely and learn of all its various problems. That is incredible. Why isn't that something we know about at the Academy, or for that matter, the corporate world." Pheonix felt he could go on just that topic alone but now he felt like his full faculties were back, and his mind was racing with questions.

"Second: you came and examined me like I was some kind of horse," Pheonix cocked his head to the side a bit, frowning at violet-eyes. "And... did you refer to me as 'male'? An unregistered one at that?"

Then he remembered: "Oh! And thanks for referring to me as some kind of specimen - how was exactly you were planning to get semen out of me?" Pheonix smirked, thought really, his heart was pounding away in his chest. Either this was a combination of some massive mis-understanding coupled with an inexplicable cosmic event with portals, or this woman was insane... and there was some inexplicable cosmic event with portals. Either way, Phoenix's questioning, while genuine, certainly covered up his anxiety that he was in trouble.

Then he remembered Manhattan. She had no idea. Which meant she was possibly a foreigner - but which foreigner wouldn't know Manhatten. And he couldn't be that far away from the city, which would dramatically further reduce the possibility that a foreigner working in the United States wouldn't know about it; and, she didn't sound like a foreigner, nor did she have any of the usual northeastern accents one could potentially choose from.

Pheonix began to feel a bit overwhelmed. "What the fuck," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he felt like should have come out an hour ago.

"Can you fucking say something please? So I can start piecing this shit together? Don't just stand there looking at me like a horse."

Then he remembered the word "breed". Holy fuck.

Pheonix decided in that very moment that no matter what happened, he had to escape from this place and find his way back to home. Otherwise, he was getting a very bad feeling about this.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She was quiet long enough only to let him speak. She was listening - not just to the words he was saying (which, to be fair, weren’t making a lot of sense), but the way he said them. His accent, she couldn’t place, but there was clear intelligence in his words. Spoke of excellent breeding and education - far finer than any of the other males she’d run across. Even those who were kept by women of privilege.

Ah, that was it!

“You’re unregistered because you’re not a kept male!” Probably not what he wanted to hear. “There’s no way a male of your intellect would be collared and owned. What brothel do you belong to? Or do you make enough so that you have your own home?” If he was what she thought he was, a high end male courtesan, then it was entirely possible that he didn’t stay in a male brothel, but could live on his “own” in a part of a male dormitory with other high end courtesans. These men, though rarer and rarer nowadays, were prized for their education - kept men could be smart, but were not allowed to be “too smart,” as it were. Male courtesans had a bit more freedom - as long as they were still desirable.

“Tony, see if he’s been neutered,” she said, without a shred of irony. After all, most male courtesans, for the freedoms they had, were not allowed to breed. That was the price they paid. And it wouldn’t do to have an entire class of unregistered, dangerously intelligent men running about. Though Natalie had spent some time in her undergrad chasing after the idea of this fabled “lost class” of men, only to have every lead turn up as a dead end. But what if….what if…this man she was looking at was one of them? That would explain the strange place he was talking about!

“Maybe it’s code,” she muttered to herself, not entirely realizing that she’d spoken out loud. While she seemed to ignore his questions, the AI, Tony, had not.

“The mouth on this one. Want me to fit him with a collar?”

“Mm?” She was stirred out of her thoughts by the AI. “Oh, no, not quite yet. He may have some brain damage caused by whatever weird incident brought him here. I’ve never heard of anything like ‘portals,’” she mused, “So maybe run another CAT scan on him to make sure all of his mental facilities are in place.”

“Running.”

She stepped over to Phoenix now. He was taller than her, but now, with her mind working a mile a minute, she was no longer afraid of him. After all, most males were bred to be taller than females. Without a hint of warning, she gestured to him. “Get naked. I’ll need to treat your wounds.”

As he stood there, gawking, she rolled her eyes dramatically. “I know you can understand me. Get naked. Now. Or do you want me to go ahead and report you and just toss you out?” Not that she would. But he didn’t need to know that.

 

[TheFarthestWriter]

Kept male. Registered versus unregistered. What brothel do you belong to? Neutered. Want me to fit him with a collar? Report you... toss you out...

Apparently this woman had created a world in her mind which seemed to assign a very low place on the social ladder for men. That seemed to be the theme here. But still, there was a part of Pheonix that wondered what the hell had actually happened with that glowing orb in the forest. Lately, as tends to happen a few years after break throughs in the corresponding science, there was a rash of new movies and TV shows based around the idea of alternative realities. "String theory on crack" a physicist friend of his had joked once. While the possibility that he had actually walked into one of those alternative realities was extremely low, what bothered him was that there were moderately reputable physicists who had actually spoken of exploring such realities. But even that was highly theoretical, and such exploration entailed multi-million dollar colliders and high mathematics - not glowing orbs and women with violet eyes.

The higher possibility, that somehow he was in the clutches of a delusional woman, was, ironically, the more comforting of the two options. What was not comforting however was the fact that this woman gave no indication whatsoever of mental instability, and - far from - actually exuded the sense that she was in complete control. Calm. In command.

Whatever the case was, Pheonix reckoned he needed to get free from this place. But he wouldn't get too far with all his wounds. So when the offer was made to patch up his wounds - albeit with a nonchalant command to strip naked - he actually didn't need to object, beyond the initial shock.

"Look," Pheonix started as he started to unbutton his white tux shirt, "just to be clear. I don't know anything about 'portals' either. I'm just telling you what I saw." He grimaced and slowed a bit as his shirt came off. His chest was well-chiseled, and his abdomen firm, with the subtle markings of a budding six pack. His shoulders were superbly developed, as were his arms. When he wasn't so beaten up, he was actually a fine specimen no matter which universe he stood in. Pheonix looked down at his side and noticed a large abrasion along his left chest, along the flank. It felt worse than it looked.

"I'm not sure what you think I am, but I'd appreciate any help you can provide." Pheonix kicked off his shoes, took off his socks and balled them up, throwing them along the floor. His pants came off next, but he didn't remove his boxers.
"I'm fine in the nether regions, it won't be necessary to remove my underwear."

Pheonix felt vulnerable in even referring to the space between his legs, given that she had just a moment ago uttered the word, "neutered". He eyed the room for any potential make-shift weapons in case she tried anything. Shards of glass from the broken beaker would do. Once she had fixe him up, he'd be sure to do something to get himself "tossed out", so that he could start to figure things out on his own.

"Ok, go ahead."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

It hadn’t occurred to her for a single moment that HE would think of her as the crazy one. After all, he was the strange man that just appeared in her lab.

“Well, it could only be a portal,” she sighed, as if she was talking to a child. “The ‘Manhattan’ you speak of doesn’t exist here. Unless ‘Manhattan’ is a code that unregistered men use. I suppose, etomologically, it would make sense, but it seems silly to name a haven for men and keep ‘Man’ in the title. You might want to think of a more discreet name.” Her excitement, it would seem, had been tempered by her ‘scientist’ hat.

As he undressed, she was equally uninterested, picking up a nearby tablet and writing. Her hand flew across the page, barely able to keep up with her thought process. “First, we’re going to get you taken care of, physically - “

“Seems like as good as a time as any to mention, doll - he’s not neutered,” came Tony’s voice.

“You really MUST be a free range male, then,” she paused in her note taking to look up at Phoenix. “Well, far be it from me to further deprive the breeding pool of what seems to be a strong specimen. As to answer your question,” she stepped closer now, hooking her fingers in the waist band of his boxers, “I think you’re something of the likes I’ve never seen before.” And with a single movement, she yanked his boxers down, exposing his nude form to the chill air of the lab. Completely unfazed by the naked man in front of her, she stepped away from him, turning her back to him.

“Tony, prep the restorative bath. Shouldn’t require a full immersion to heal those ribs, right?”

“Calculating - should take 30 minutes, maybe 45, if he’s amenable to the experience.”

She turned back to Phoenix. “There you are - good as new in 30 minutes if you’re good.” She hopped up to sit on the lab table in front of him. She was openly staring at him now, looking down every so often to jot down a few more notes. “What do they call you?” she asked, suddenly. “Or what do you call yourself?”

Behind them, the restorative chamber began to glow, a deep blue, the color slowly warming to green. From the outside, it looked all the world for a futuristic coffin. White, oblong, with no discernible lines.

 

[TheFarthestWriter]

Pheonix kept his gaze locked on the scientist, and defiantly pulled his boxers up. Clearly she thought he was some specimen, but even he had his own dignity to maintain. Since she seemed to be operating in a world where men were some kind of object to be studied, a commodity to be registered, so much so that they might even consider creating a safe haven for themselves called "MAN-hattan." Unbelievable. Whether that world was real or just in this private world of hers he wasn't sure, but at least it made the role he needed to play clear.

But he wasn't going to just roll over.

"My name," Phoenix said, the annoyance clear in his voice, "is Doctor Pheonix Gray. I have a PhD in microbiology with a focus on transmission of genomic immune modifiers via prions - a pretty little subject matter which recently won me our Academy of Science's most prestigious grant. It was called the 'Manhattan Grant', because... um, where I come from, we have a place called Manhattan, which is one of the greatest cities in the world."

"I come from a world," Pheonix was observing his environment carefully as he spoke. He noted the white coffin that the scientists was proposing he get into. He didn't see any panels that might function as two-way mirrors through which this Tony character would be observing them through, which was somewhat confusing, but he noticed the the lab was generally in disarray. And the scientist before him was giving him vibes of that same kind of disarray.

"I come from a world where men and women work together, but it took a long time for it to get that way and there are still many inequalities. Men have had the upper hand for centuries, and it has taken women a long time to get to a place where they can enjoy similar rights and responsibilities."

Pheonix couldn't believe he was giving such a measured evaluation of gender dynamics. He was not known for such back home... if he indeed still wasn't home.

He slowly walked over to the white coffin as he finished talking, tracing his finger over its edge. It was unbelievable smooth. Seemed like the whole thing was made of fiberglass, yet somehow it was different. He couldn't quite place it. He couldn't deny his senses. This was different. And he starting to become more certain that the glowing orb he saw was indeed some real, quantum anomaly.

"You really want me to get in this thing? Is it going to hurt?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

In the world that she lived in, she could have had him punished in a variety of ways for his defiant attitude. And, if he’d been so unlucky as to have been transported to a different part of the city, to a different woman, he could very well have ended up with worse injuries. It was quite the testament to her character that she didn’t once raise her voice or get sharp with him.

But perhaps it also did her an immense discredit as well.

“Yes, well,” she sighed, adopting his somewhat clipped and formal tones, “There is no such a place here, unless you’re from some secret commune of unregistered males. You, Dr. Gray, aren’t where you think you are. And yes, I expect you to get into that.”

It seemed easier, for her, to switch up her tone. Better humor that he was from some “different world” until he could get into the chamber and Tony could do a more thorough scan on him. Just from watching his pupils (even, not dilated), this man showed no sign of mental injury. But the whole thing of men and women working together? Hm. Her eyebrows lifted in curiosity, but quickly dropped down into a neutral pose. It could be too much to hope for - actual equality between men and women. Where duties were shared not along the lines of patriarchal gender constructs (a sure outcome if men were ever allowed in positions of power), but because of actual merit.

Could it be…?

She moved closer to the restorative bath, drummed her fingers along the hood of it in a quick, musical staccato. “If I’d wanted to harm you, I would have. Now, you can either trust me, or we can take more drastic measures to ensure your compliance. I’d imagine that just listening to me and doing as I ask would be a lot easier. But I can also assure you that it will not hurt. The restorative chamber..." she paused briefly, looking for the right words, "is similar to returning to the womb. You will be immersed in fluid, not so that your face is under, mind you, and a combination of the fluid and the properties of the chamber itself will speed your healing process naturally. You will suffer no ill effects from being in it, nor will it do something like shorten your life span. Regeneration on a cellular level."