A Love Story. 2,600 Adult. The time when ALL the girls disappeared. (standard:romance, 2568 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 16 2020	Views/Reads: 1375/995	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
One morning, while Timmy ate breakfast, his mama disappeared. Actually, ALL females in the world blanked out, gone. This story, in his own words, is about how the remaining males coped.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

He shakes his head, stuffs his mouth, and turns to fix me with an angry
stare while chewing rapidly. 

"You stay away from those queers. You hear me, boy?" he says through a
mouthful of food, some spraying cross the table in'ta the butter dish. 

I nod, looking away at the window. Then ... well, thens when it happens.
I look at the stove, and Mom ... but she ain't there. Later, I go over 
it carefully in my brain, and still don't see her go. 

Daddy's quiet for a minute or two, probably thinking about me being
queer or something, and what he'll do to me if I am. I finish eating. 

I really gotta pee by then, and go upstairs to the bathroom to see if
Tammy's done yet. 

The chair's still blocking the door, so she's gotta be in there. Since I
really, truly, gotta go, I knock loud. 

"Come on, hurry up. I can't wait," I yell through the door. "Darned
girls, take all darned day. Hurry it up, Tammy. Please." 

She don't scream back like always. Finally, not that I want'a see her
slimy butt, I really gotta go, so I jerk that chair away and open the 
door. 

Nobody's in there! I whip it out, aim in the general direction of the
toilet, and let her go. Feeling relief, I look around, wondering where 
Tammy's got to and how? 

Her stuff is still all over and around the sink. The hot water's still
running, but not hot no more. Since nobody's around to look, I don't 
wash my hands or flush but do turn off the faucet. I figure that if 
anyone wants to lick pee off my hands, let them get sick. I'm a little 
curious about how Tammy got out'ta there. But, to a seven-year-old, 
older sisters are already mystic creatures, so I shrug it off. 

About that time, I hear Daddy, downstairs, yelling, "Julie. Where the
hell are you, woman? Damn it, get your ass out here." 

He must'of come to the foot of the stairs, cause I can hear him good.
"Timmy. Is your mother up there? Tell her I need her. She forgot the 
damn skillet and it was smoking up the kitchen. I swear, I can't 
understand that woman." 

"I'll see," I reply. "Dam ... Darned women," I mutter to myself,
starting to really look. 

I search the upstairs, not finding anyone but me up there. Tammy isn't
in her room. I hate to even go in there, with all those fluffy girl 
things lying around. It's really strange, though, cause she's left 
clothes on her bed, even clean underwear, like it's ready to put on. 
Her trash bag as I call it, or purse, is still there too, and she 
carries that everywhere -- even from room to room. 

"Nobody up here but me," I yell down to Daddy, then hurry back to
Tammy's room. I see a chance for mischief by grabbing that little red 
diary out of her trash bag, then carry it to my room to read all the 
mushy stuff. 

I'm always curious about which boy she's interested in. It changes every
week. A couple of weeks ago, I saw it was Jimmy Stevens, and made a 
point of telling him. That must'a embarrassed her real good. 

After glancing through it quick, not knowing when she'll be back, I
simply write, "Timmy was here" in red ink on a blank page and throw it 
on her bed. 

Well, anyway, we find out that it's not only us, but all the girls in
the world have disappeared. There simply isn't any a them anywhere. All 
the women in the world have gone somewhere else. The newspaper, the 
next day, says even animals. Not even one girl mouse or elephant is 
left, though bugs and mosquitoes are still around. 

*** 

I'm pretty young then, and it is summer vacation from school, but it
seems strange to go to a movie and not see any girls at all. The back 
of the theater is usually full'a boys and girls kissing, but not 
anymore. 

Television is the same, except for old shows -- which I never watch
anyways. 

Daddy just about goes crazy, though. Me and him gotta clean the house,
meaning it ain't cleaned much. Meals are mostly sandwiches or from 
McDonald's. I get sick of pepperoni pizza, his favorite. Then he starts 
drinking ... a lot. 

Ta me, it ain't much different. I don't have no girlfriends and only
play with boys anyway. It's just a little strange without girls hanging 
around. 

I miss Mom a lot, of course. My room gets pretty dirty, since I don't
care much. It's nice for awhile not to have Tammy yelling at me all'a 
the time for no reason at all. But, after a few weeks, I start to miss 
even her. 

One day I catch Daddy jerking off in his room. It's funny, considering
how he used to talk about it. I go there to ask him something, I forget 
what. When I go in the door, he's lying on his bed, pumping away. Right 
now it seems funny but, at the time, it shocked both of us. Here, he's 
been calling anyone what does "that" queers, and he's doing it to 
his'self. That's very confusing to a seven-year-old. Now that I'm 
thirteen, I understand more. 

*** 

Things really get confusing to me when Larry moves in with us. Larry, I
don't remember his last name, works with Daddy at the Acme Trucking 
Company, both'a them driving forklifts and loading trucks. It's a 
really macho job. One I, even now, think wouldn't have any queers 
working there at all. 

"Larry's tired of living alone with his wife gone, and so am I, Timmy.
I'm renting him a room. He'll be using Tammy's, since she isn't here 
anymore either," Daddy tells me. 

So? I don't care. Nobody's using it anyway. 

Later, though, since Tammy's room is cross the hall from mine and Larry
leaves the door open a lot, I'm surprised to see him wearing Tammy's 
underwear. 

"It's softer than his, and he has a rash on his butt from work," Daddy
tells me. 

After that, Larry's door stays closed. 

A year or so later, when winter comes, though, Larry starts sleeping in
the same room as Daddy. Even a eight-and-a-half-year-old is getting 
suspicious by then. 

It isn't all that strange, cause new television shows start to come on,
showing men living together all the time. They'll even kiss and sleep 
together on television. 

A little boy is still able to change his thinking, sex being a strange
subject -- something we pretty much put off until at least ten or 
twelve. Though strange to me, it's only one more thing I can't 
understand. I do miss Mom a lot, and even Tammy by then, but have to 
adjust. 

Like the men on the television, Larry and Daddy will even hug and kiss
when they think I won't notice. Larry becomes like a new Mom, even 
wearing dresses in the house. He still dresses like a man when he goes 
to work, though. 

Of course, looking back at it, Daddy don't say the word "queer" anymore.


At school and play, at first it's strange not to have girls around and
only men for teachers. Then it seems normal. Us guys don't have to put 
up with girls, and little boys like me put them out'a our minds. The 
bigger boys, though, still like to talk about them, and wish they were 
still there. It ain't the same, they say, to kiss another boy, though 
some don't seem to mind at all. 

Gym class at school is a lot different. Instead of playing grab ass in
the locker room, some boys start acting like girls, especially the 
nerds, and become popular. New games are being played in the shower 
room after classes finish. 

Some of the other boys even wash each other and, you know, suck others
in plain sight of us little kids. It becomes a normal thing in both 
that shower room and in the restrooms, sometimes making it hard for me 
to go to the toilet. I hate it, when I'm in a hurry between classes, to 
have to wait a long time, listening to all those moans and slurping 
sounds from the booths. 

About six or eighteen months after that, I even start thinking of my
best friend, Johnny, in a different way. It's a curious way that's new 
to me, making my thing a little, just a little, stiff. 

At home, although I usually think of girls when I, you know, play with
it, the memory of what they looked like seems like a long way away, 
pictures of Johnny coming instead. 

*** 

It's, as you all know, a couple of years later when things change again.


Like before, it's at breakfast. 

Larry's doing his thing, frying eggs for the three of us and wearing
Mom's clothes. 

He's just dropped mine, sunny-side up, on my plate. Then Mom comes back,
her pushing him aside as she sorta pops back in. She's even holding the 
spatula she was using when she left. 

While we stand or sit in shock, I hear a loud scream from upstairs.
Tammy is also back. A screeching of brakes outside, along with yelling 
and horns blasting, makes me realize the same thing must be happening 
out there. 

"Eeeek, who are you and where did you come from?" Mom yells. "And is
that MY dress you have on?" 

"Julie! My God, you're back, honey." Daddy drops his fork and stands,
knocking over his chair. "Where the hell were you?" 

"Uh ... hi," a weak reply from Larry while looking back and forth
between the two of them. 

"I turn to get more cinnamon, and ... and a stranger is here. And
where's my hotcake batter? My God, it IS my dress, with a man 
weari...." She seems to freeze like a statue. 

"Baby, wait." Daddy grabs her, just when it looks like she's gonna fall
down. "Let's go to the living room and talk. Oh, it's so good to have 
you back." 

"Back, fr ... from ... I never left. Who ... how ... quick, like that?
My dress!" 

All three of them go out, leaving me alone in the kitchen. 

On their way out, I can hear Larry, "Uh, I better get home, myself. Mary
might have come back. Christ. What the hell am I standing here for? See 
you at work, Peter, hon.... See you, guy." A moment later, the front 
door slams. 

"Ma. Ma, you should see what that brat did to my room," Tammy screams
down the stairs. 

Since I'm still hungry, I eat the rest of my eggs and toast, including
three more eggs that are somewhat overcooked in the skillet. Let the 
rest a them sort it out, was my thinking -- all that adult stuff. Guess 
that's it. 

By Timmy Trump, eighth grade, Mrs. Simmon's class, fourth period. 

*** 

Well, I wrote that years ago and we never did find out what happened.
Some smart guys have long ideas about things like green holes in space 
and stuff. Others say it was God's revenge for something or other, but 
nobody really knows. 

For a while, Daddy had to sleep on the couch, until Mom finally realized
that half the men in the world had been doing the same damned thing 
with the other half. That us guys can, and do, become horny -- even 
without women around -- and gotta do something about it. 

And I never did hear Daddy saying someone was queer after that. Heck, he
wouldn't dare, not with the American Homosexual political party in the 
White House. Us guys do treat women better now, from what I hear, and 
with more appreciation. So a lot of things have changed. 

Speaking about doing something about it, I'm going over to Johnny's
house to blow him, Mom. See you guys later, okay? 

The End.


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