A Memoir of the New Paradigm  Chapter 6 
by Sunblind - written for DTM / Amy's Conquest



*** The Below is an extended segment from this story, written for us by an
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For the Full Story of "A Memoir of the New Paradigm (Chapter 6)", please visit
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********************

Nancy came back into the Torture Room and reached for me. Broken as I was, I
put my hands up and grabbed for her. I somehow got a hold of her. Pain shot
from my broken hands all the way up my arms. It was paralyzing, but I fought
as hard as I could. It was no use, though, she was too strong and gathered me
into a crushing hug. Her mouth was next to my ear.

"A.J.! A.J.!"

And then there was that moment of clarity. Everyone has felt it. When what
was, for your consciousness, an absolute reality, suddenly evaporates, and you
realize that you were dreaming.

I opened my eyes and Janey's beautiful face swam into focus. I was on my back.
She was looming over me and had me in a tight hug. I immediately relaxed. I
was safe in her strong arms with her big round breasts smooshed against my
chest.

She leaned down and kissed my cheek. "I have you. I have you," she whispered.
"You're safe, Gorgeous. I've got you. Janey's got you."

My breathing had returned to normal, so she released me and settled in next to
me, her head propped up on her elbow. "Was it the dream again? Was it Nancy?"

I nodded. I was still a little addled. And my confusion must have showed. But
she knows me better than I know myself, so she knew what was going through my
head ... we weren't in our bedroom, and I couldn't bring up in my
consciousness where we were.

Smiling comfortingly, she kissed me on the cheek again, and even though I
hadn't said anything she answered my question. "We're in Stockholm, at the
Grand. Remember? The Nobel ceremony is tomorrow."

I relaxed. In my confusion from the dream, the unfamiliar surroundings of the
hotel suite had thrown me off. I sighed. "Man, I am too old for this. You'd
think after twenty-two years, it wouldn't seem so real any more." I looked
over at Janey, honest concern on my face. "Did my flailing get you? Did I hit
you or kick you? Are you okay?" (I know viscerally that I can't actually hurt
her, but primally I'm always worried. There is almost nothing worse than
hitting a woman. And, despite the fact that women are more than capable of
fending for themselves, and, truth be told, do plenty of the hitting
themselves, I still think it's important to be a gentleman.)

Janey's smile was so filled with love that my heart nearly burst. She rolled
her eyes lovingly and pulled me to her impossibly large breasts. I latched on.
"Silly, boy," she teased, "Don't you know, yet? You can't hurt me." She looked
down at me. "Besides, if you tried to hit me or kick me in your sleep, I'd
wrap you up, and I'd ... " She rolled to me, forcing me to my back, and
burying me in the deep canyon of her cleavage. She used her "climb the air"
enhancement though and held herself up off of me. I again found her nipple,
and I had her purring almost immediately.

I thought to myself, "She's holding herself up off of me." I smiled to myself.
She's very gentle with me now. We're getting older. I'm fifty-four. I look
like I'm forty because I have good genes, take very good care of myself, and I
am very, very wealthy. I'm still in superior physical condition, vigorous, and
strong. But, I'm no longer a kid. I've suffered more than twenty broken bones.
I've been blind in my left eye for longer than I saw out of it. And, I have a
mouthful of fake teeth. Truth be told, as good shape as I'm in, I'm a little
beat up. Janey, being Janey, has never forgiven herself for any of this, and
she overcompensates by often handling me like I'm fine china (and by stuffing
me with food).

For her own part, Janey will be fifty-four next month. She looks like she's
twenty-seven because she is full of Testostrogen. She has super human strength
and stamina and is just at the peak of her strength. Twenty years ago, she
lifted a one hundred thousand pound tree. Today, she could probably lift one
twice as large. And ... and this might be a problem at some point in the
future ... she (and every other woman on the planet) are aging at about half
the rate of the men. (That's why she's fifty-four and looks twenty-seven.)

In the last chapter, when I said that Beverly looked exactly like Janey I was
exaggerating, but only a little. When I made that statement, one chapter and
twenty-two years ago, Beverly was fifty-six years old; Janey was thirty-two.
When the meteor hit the South Pole, Beverly was forty; Janey was sixteen.
Okay, time for more boring sciency stuff.

They haven't figured it out exactly yet, but Testostrogen is having an effect
on womens' lifespans. Look at what it did for Mrs. Carpenter's physicality.
Women who were very old when the meteor hit have actually gotten younger, on a
cellular level. For the most part, their cellular age has regressed to half of
their chronological age.

Even now, twenty-two years after I made that statement about Beverly, she'
seventy-eight years old, and she looks (and feels) like she's thirty-nine.
Janey, at fifty-four, looks twenty-seven, because, on her cellular level,
that's how old she is.

I am, however, still aging. I'm still going to live for only eighty or ninety
years. Janey's probably going live to about one hundred eighty years old. We
think about it sometimes, but mostly we're just trying to enjoy the time we
have.

Kind of the obvious thing would be for us to have some kids. Maybe some of
them would be girls. And even so, boys could marry and have kids, and Janey
could continue to live with her grandchildren, and great grandchildren, and so
on. But we can't.

Janey can't have children. It has nothing to do with meteors or Testostrogen.
She was born with it. If there was no such thing as the New Paradigm, if
things had stayed as they always were, she would not have been able to have
children. It's all very sad, but, again, mostly we're just trying to enjoy the
time we have.

And Janey has Harper and Cheryl, and maybe there'll be other good friends. Two
people she doesn't have are Beverly and Nancy.

After the beating, Janey cut Nancy off. Both emotionally, and financially.
Considering I had managed to survive, and was actually going to live, Beverly
thought Janey was overreacting and that led to the end of that relationship as
well. I haven't been able to repair the emotional damage between them, but I
have, without Janey's knowledge, continued to support them financially. I've
made arrangements so that they will never be without an income ... an income
that will never fall below six figures per year. They, of course, have no
contact with me ... they have never acknowledged the fact that I have
supported them, starting years before the beating, and for all of the years
since. Maybe after I'm gone? I just want Janey to have the option ... and ...
no matter what ... they're family, and, whatever Janey says, I'm not going to
let them starve.

So Janey had rolled on top of me and was (very gently) smothering me under her
big chest. "You're really adorable. The way you worry about me. You're still
the little boy on the playground ... I'm always in the corner of your eye ...
you're always protecting.

I squirmed around and made it clear that I had something to say. "Janey?"

"Mmm?"

"When you look at me ... I mean ... I know I'm starting to slow down a little
... I have these bad dreams, like a little kid ... and, I know, I've suffered
some wear and tear ... and ... and, you look so young ... and you're so
strong. I know ... I've still got the semen ... but ... am I still ... you
know ... sexy ... to you?"

Janey rolled to her back. I propped myself up on my elbow, the way she had
been before. She breathed in and out a few times. She would say that she was
thinking, but I think she was just teasing me. I will say that the rise and
fall of her big, full bust was enough, by itself, to "lock one into my
chamber."

"A.J.," she finally whispered, her voice hoarse, her temperament raw; exposed.
"When I look at you, sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe."

I leaned in and nuzzled her side boob. She purred again. So, I got aggressive.
My hands came up and I took a breast in each hand. I worked her nipples
between my thumbs and forefingers until the were stiff. I went to slide down
her belly to, you know ... use my tongue on her, but she grabbed my upper
arms, and held me fast.

Our eyes met. "I'm going to take you now."

"But, I 'd like to keep playing. Don't you want to be licked?"

"I'm going to take you ... and you better not cum, until I do"

"I won't but ... . mmph."

She flipped us over so that she was on top. How she can be, at the same time,
so incredibly strong, and yet so entirely gentle is still beyond me. She'd
worked my arms down to my sides, so while impaled on my cock, she also had my
arms trapped under her legs. Also, she's tall enough, and her breasts take up
so much space, that even with my penis completely insider of her, she can lean
down, and her tits cover my face entirely. I lovingly refer to this position
as "Janey's fuck-toy," and she has never disputed that in this position that
is exactly what I am.

When she had properly cum ... twice ... she popped up and informed me that I
had her permission to go ahead and cum. She stared down at me and pulsed her
female muscles until I hit critical mass, and just when I couldn't hold out
any longer undulated her insides up one side of me, and down the other. I
managed to remain conscious to the end of the orgasm, though, I'm really not
sure how.

Once our breathing had returned to normal (she'd flopped down on top of me,
and we were both buried under her hair), she rose up one more time, and stared
down at me. Her eyes were dreamy, her tits were heavy on my chest, her voice
was sleepy. "I'm going to put you in my chest now, so you'll feel extra safe."
And suddenly, I was six inches tall. She lifted me into her cleavage and
rolled to her side. I was on my back with one breast as my mattress, the other
as my blanket; only my head was exposed. I snuggled into her softness, and as
I drifted back to sleep, I thought about the first time I'd had the "Nancy"
dream.

It's what had brought me out of the coma that I'd been in for eight days
following the beating.

After busting me up that night, Nancy had indicated that she couldn't wait to
tell Janey what she'd done. She'd developed a delusion that I had somehow
brainwashed Janey into caring for me, and that by mostly killing me that she
(Nancy) had freed Janey from my influence. She truly believed that Janey was
going to thank her, that whether I lived or died made no difference to Janey,
and that with me out of the way, Janey could now experience the New Paradigm
in the way that she'd always wanted.

The thing is that she didn't go to tell Janey at all. She actually just went
quietly to her room and waited out the night. I guess she knew deep down that
if she told immediately, Janey would have busted down to the Torture Room and
healed me. Nancy wanted me to suffer for a while.

I suffered for more than eight hours.

Janey found me a little after seven the next morning. (When I didn't show up
in our room at seven, as ordered, she came looking for me.) As previously
recounted, my jaws, both upper and lower, were broken on both sides of my
mouth, all of my teeth had been knocked out, and my left clavicle, three of my
ribs, nine of my fingers, and all of the knuckles on my right hand were
broken, and both of my feet had been crushed. When Janey found me, I was
already comatose; my blood pressure had fallen to about eighty over forty.

All of the details of my healing are kind of dry. All of the broken stuff was
fixed inside of Janey before we even arrived at the hospital. And, my mouth
was fixed even before I woke up. When you have all the money in the world, you
can get an entire mouthful of dental implants put in while you are in a coma.

It took my subconscious eight days to put everything in order, and then the
dream. I came awake thrashing and crying out. And there was Janey.

The scene then was actually similar to what had just happened. She had been
sitting next to my hospital bed, when I had started to wave my arms and kick.
She'd leaned over, and wrapped her arms around me, laid over top of me, and
held me.

My eyes were wild. (I was searching for Nancy. I was sure she was still in the
room.)

"A.J. A.J. It's okay. It's me. You're safe. I've got you. A.J.! It's Janey."

All it took was the sound of her voice, and I started to calm. I had been so
worked up that it took a few minutes for me to calm all the way down. She held
me tightly, the whole time whispering in my ear that I was safe. And finally,
I was still.

She slowly rose up off of me, and I relaxed back on to my pillow. I lay there
staring at the ceiling. Janey sat down next to me on the side of the bed. She
took my hand.

A few minutes went by in silence. The relief coming off of both of us was
palpable. Her's because I was finally awake. Mine because she was there ...
because she is all I need.

"How long?"

"Eight days."

I turned my head and found her eyes.

"How do you feel?"

"Actually, I think I'm a little hungry."

She smiled. "Do you ever stop thinking about my feelings."

I shrugged. "Eight days without feeding me. I figure you're getting ready to
melt."

Another few beats went by.

"Janey?"

She leaned forward.

"Can we, please, just skip to the part where it's all better?"

She looked at me like I had two heads. "Is that an option?"

"Why shouldn't it be? I mean we've been Janey and A.J. for twenty-eight years.
And no matter what, we are going to be Janey and A.J. for a long time to come.
I know you need to hear me say it ... so, here it is ... nothing you will ever
do to me will cause me to stop loving you. But I'll go you one better ...
nothing you will ever do will cause me to stop wanting to be your husband; to
be with you; to be under your protection," I smiled, "To be, as they say,
under your tits."

Her hands had migrated up to her mouth. And through the tears she managed to
snort derisively at herself, as she rolled her eyes, "Under my protection ...
sometimes I think you'd be better off on your own."

I sat up, cross-legged (by this time we no longer said "Indian style") and
peeled her hands off of her mouth. "You really want to do this?"

No answer, just a sound from deep in her throat.

"Okay ... you asked for it." I then dead-panned my voice and said with no
feeling whatsoever, "Janey ... how could you ... how could you just hand me
over to your sister ... that's two times in twelve years you've handed me over
to a woman, who beat me so bad that she permanently damaged me ... " and I
clacked my teeth together for emphasis, "What were you thinking?"

And then my demeanor changed to one of understanding. I made my voice soft. "I
know what you were thinking. You were thinking that your mom and your big
sister were showing you more love than they'd shown you in years. And who
doesn't want love from their mom and their big sister."

I stopped for a breath. Janey was mute, but her eyes were shining.

"Better yet, let's talk about all the times that you do protect me. I mean
there's the all-time classic, Faith's party. You took on four enhanced women,
and you trashed them, like you owned them. All through the second half of
senior year, no girl messed with me, because nobody wanted to tangle with my
badass girlfriend. How many nights in the dorms did I spend, surrounded and
safe, inside of you, while other guys were getting carried off, and god knows
what. And there have been a hundred other times. Remember the three girls from
that freshman survey class I taught a few years back, and their sorority
treasure hunt?"

I stopped for a minute and chuckled. "Although, I gotta say it was quite a
compliment that they put my semen on the list, I'm pretty sure they would have
happily pulled my balls right off, if you hadn't shown up to take me to lunch
at the end of the lecture. And even when you can't be there ... Harper didn't
just show up at Ellerbee's last week."

Silent tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Janey?"

She nodded through the tears.

"I love you." I held out my arms, and we melted into a hug.

After a bit, she had snuggled in, on my left side. She was idly stroking me,
and I had my hands under her shirt and was working her big tits like I owned
them (which I did). "Hey, Jay?"

"Mmm?"

"When was the last time you took nutrition?"

A pregnant pause. "Ummm." She looked up at me and bit her lower lip in a sort
of sexy pout.

"Janine." My voice was full of mock exasperation. "Really?"

"Well, it's not like you were using it."

We smiled at one another and giggled together conspirationally, with our
foreheads touching. When we finished laughing, she hopped out of the bed.

"And now it's time to play doctor."

I smiled up at her.

She got one of those light thingies, and a stethoscope. She looked into my
eyes, ears, and throat. She listened to my heart and lungs. She took my blood
pressure. She made me stand up and checked me for a hernia. (Except I've been
checked for hernias before, and I don't really think it's supposed to include
quite so much fondling of the balls.)

Then she pulled on a rubber glove on to her left hand. "Lay on your side and
pull your knees up to your chest."

"Uh ... I'm pretty sure my prostate is fine."

"I'm absolutely certain that it's fine. But I told you ... we're playing
doctor, and I want to put my finger up your ass." As she spoke, she removed
her shirt and her bra. "And while I'm doing it, I'm going to crawl up on the
bed behind you and mash my boobs into your back. And while I'm doing that, I'm
going to reach around you with my other hand and stroke you until you're ready
to burst. Then at the absolute last minute, I'm going to flip you over and
suck on you until you do burst. And while I'm doing all that, my finger is
still going to be ... you know." And she waved her gloved index finger at me.

I went to hop off the bed, but she grabbed the safety rail and slammed it into
place. Then maintaining her grip on the rail and using her enhancement to keep
the bed in one piece, she lifted the bed (by the rail) with me in it, up above
her head. I bet, the bed, with all the motorized stuff under it, weighs three
hundred pounds. At the time I weighed about two-ten. Janey may as well have
been holding a piece of paper for all the effort she was showing.

I looked down at her over the side of the bed. "You know if I really wanted
to, I could just hop down and run away."

She looked up at me. "Seriously? Do you still not get how this works?"

"Well, I know I wouldn't get very far, but ... "

"I'm going to put the bed down now. And because you put me to this trouble,
I'm going to climb in and get on top of you. Then I'm going to put you under
my boobs until you're helpless and nearly passed out. And then, all of the
things I said before, about putting my finger in your ass ... I'm going to do
those things."

When she put the bed down, I tried to roll out of it, away from her. She
grabbed my arm, and with what I liked to describe as gentle ferocity, got me
under control under her. She brought her bustiness down on my face so that the
lower part of my face was immersed, but our eyes were still met.

True to her word, she held me still. I struggled but it was like a child
struggling against an adult. Eventually, the effort, and the lack of oxygen
took its toll. My eyes began to flag. She flipped me to my side. Her finger
went deep inside of me. Her hand came around and slid up and down my shaft. I
had stopped struggling ... I know when I'm beat. She put her lips at my ear
and whispered, "I've got you. Janey's got you," over and over.

Just as I was about to go off, she flipped me over, and with her finger still
deep inside of me, sucked my cock into her warm, wet mouth, and drew out every
last drop of me, until there was no more. And with her finger, yet, still
inside of me, she leaned up and kissed me on the lips. "Well, you passed the
physical."

I was on my back, looking at the sway of her massive chest. "Does that mean I
can come home?"

"Well I'm not actually your doctor, but ... "

"If you're not actually my doctor, why do you still have your finger up my
ass?

Looking down in the direction of my legs, she popped her finger out. "Oh
sorry. I forgot."

I snickered, and she went to dispose of the glove, and etc.

When she returned to the bed, I had already drifted off to sleep. She crawled
in next to me and held me until I woke up. By that time the attending doctor
had signed me out.

All in all, I got pretty lucky. There were virtually no residual aspects of
the beating. If I didn't know better, I would never know that my teeth were
implants. I was a little skittish around women for a bit, even Janey, if there
was a sudden movement, or apparent aggression. Janey, though, soon gentled
that out of me. And we got back to being Janey and A.J.

One funny thing happened on the way out of the hospital. As is always the
case, even though I was perfectly fine, the hospital rules required that I
ride in a wheel chair on the way out. Unfortunately, there was something wrong
with the chair, and the wheels locked up about thirty yards from the
hospital's front door. I went to rise out of the chair, but the nurse that was
accompanying us would not allow it. Janey tried to play the doctor card. No
dice. Seemed like we were going to have to wait for another chair.

Janey, however, had other ideas. (She wanted to get me home to feed me ... and
fuck me.) Reaching down, she grabbed the chair's left arm rest, and lifted the
chair (and me) up to shoulder level. She held the chair together with her
enhancement and carried all three hundred pounds of it (and me) as if she were
carrying a loaf of bread, to the door.

When we got to the door, she lowered the chair (and me) to the ground. I
popped up, and Janey picked the chair, which by itself weighed about ninety
pounds, back up and held it out to the nurse. The nurse took it from her and
lowered it easily to the ground. Then the young woman who stood about five
foot two and was very stocky with a bust that was only slightly less massive
than Janey's stepped to Janey and whispered, "Dr. Turner, I'm so glad
everything came out okay. You're my role model with the way your practice
takes care of men, and the way you take care of Dr. Turner. I'm accepted in
med school in the fall, and I'm going to specialize in men's health. It's time
women stopped exploiting men the way we do."

We all exchanged pleasantries for a bit, and then Janey and I went home, and
she fed me, and fucked me. But the talk with the nurse had put an idea into
Janey's head. And that idea, of course, became, The Common-Sense Book of
Raising a Good Man in the New Paradigm by Dr. Janine Everett Turner.

She was a mens' doctor, anyway. A bona fide expert. And she hit a nerve.
Without trying or planning, Janey became the Dr. Spock of the New Paradigm. In
the twenty years since it was first published it has sold twenty-four million
copies and has been translated into thirty-nine languages. To date, Janey's
cut has been about nineteen million dollars, but, more importantly, her book
has changed the world.

Women are still gigantically strong. It appears that women have double the
lifespan of men. But the book basically brought down the original New Paradigm
leadership. The world is still led by women ... but now, in the way it was led
by men prior to the meteor. In other words, it's still way easier to be a
woman, but men are making inroads, and most women believe that controlling
their Testostrogen-fueled urges and partnering in a real way with (their) men
is a much more advantageous way of living. (Women are still very aggressive,
and if told to get your dick out, you probably should, but it is definitely a
kinder, gentler world than it was at first.)

The book, of course, has had a great effect on our lives, most of it positive.
Celebrity, however, especially early on, is a mixed blessing.

We were thirty-four years old. The book had been out for about eight months;
Janey was on her initial book tour. We were exiting a television interview. An
aisle had been cleared across the sidewalk to the limo, but there were crowds
on either side of it.

Janey was on my left (always on my left, protecting my blind side), and she
had turned her head to say something to me, so she was looking to her right. I
had turned my head towards her, so I was looking to my left. And that is why I
saw what I saw.

The woman, an out of work factory foreman, who blamed Janey's book for having
given her husband the courage to leave her, thereby depriving her of her
access to his semen, came out of the crowd to Janey's left and levelled the
gun, which turned out to be a .45 caliber. She fired at Janey.

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