Times have changed, men and women are different

At the end of 2012, humanity encountered the greatest threat since its birth, a threat from outer space, a place we have always longed to explore. The star Aldebaran in the constellation Scorpius, 22 light-years from Earth, suddenly became a red giant, subsequently collapsing and exploding. High-energy rays traveled the vast distance of 22 light-years to strike our planet Earth. This largest radiation attack since the dawn of humanity fundamentally altered the entire human ecosystem, most notably causing genetic mutations in the planet's organisms.

The consequences of these mutations were not as dire as initially imagined, but they played a cruel joke on humanity. This radiation threatened all male organisms on Earth, including humans. In the initial years following the disaster, men's physiques weakened, and their bodies miraculously began to shrink. However, women were completely unaffected by the radiation; on the contrary, their muscles and bones gradually became stronger than before. The fear this change instilled in humanity in the early years was unimaginable, as it exceeded human prediction. People couldn't fathom the final outcome, especially how long the changes in men would last. Then, five years after the disaster, these changes suddenly ceased. After this genetic mutation, men became slender and shorter, with fair and supple skin. Adult men at that time were approximately 1.55 to 1.70 meters tall, while women were generally between 1.70 and 1.90 meters tall. However

, the change in physical strength was not the only factor. Most importantly, the gestation period for women shortened from ten months to only five months. Furthermore, due to the strengthened uterus, excessive exercise during pregnancy did not significantly impact the fetus. Most uniquely, the more frequently a woman had intercourse with a man during pregnancy, the more subtle hormonal changes occurred in the man's body. This resulted in a mutation in the man's mammary glands during these months, causing his breasts to develop like those of a 13 or 14-year-old girl, while his nipples became indistinguishable from a woman's. Crucially, the man's breasts produced a large amount of milk during this period. The duration of this milk production varied from person to person, ranging from seven or eight months to as long as two years. It is precisely because of this change that women have gradually played an increasingly important role in human society, while men have gradually become appendages of women and dependents of human society. It can be said that this difference in gender status is far greater than the social status and division of labor before the cataclysm.

Just as I was lost in thought, the doorbell rang urgently. Without even looking, I knew just by listening that it was Tongtong who had forgotten her keys again. Tongtong is my daughter and my wife's first child. She was born four years after the cataclysm, what we often call a New Era baby.

Like most children born in the New Era, girls resemble boys from their previous lives, and boys resemble girls from their previous lives. Tongtong looks more like her mother, especially now, she looks exactly like her mother when she was young, except that Tongtong lacks her mother's youthful delicate features but has a more vigorous and spirited air. Tongtong is currently in her final year of high school and is very busy studying. Today is the weekend, and after tutoring, she didn't go home but went to play basketball with several girls at the basketball court in front of the community.

As her father, I think it's perfectly acceptable for a child to relax occasionally when she's busy with her studies, especially since she's a girl.

I slipped on my slippers and opened the door. Tongtong immediately took off her sweat-soaked t-shirt. Her bronze skin accentuated her strong muscles; while not as muscular as the boys in my previous life, her slightly handsome physique was all the more sexy.

In this era, women no longer cared who spied on their bodies. Tongtong and her mother mostly wore short skirts at home (I don't know why, in that era, women seemed more masculine in many ways, yet they remained devoted to skirts, whether casual, professional, or fashionable; skirts were still the world's favorite for women). They wore only a bra, their upper bodies bare. Girls like Tongtong, born in the new era, would even walk around the house topless. Sometimes Tongtong would even run to the supermarket downstairs topless to buy sanitary napkins.

Tongtong

took off her top and went into the bedroom, soon changing into a light blue, super-short nightgown, and then came out of the bedroom without her bra.

Tongtong said as she walked, "Dad, I'm thirsty, have a glass of water." Then she grabbed the remote and plopped down on the sofa, switching the TV from a soap opera to the WBA professional basketball league.

I glanced at Tongtong, who was sprawled on the sofa with her hair down and her shirt off, and said, "A grown woman like you, why are you always shirtless? Go inside and put on a bra before you come out." Tongtong, her eyes fixed on the game on TV, said, "It's too hot today, wearing a bra is a bit uncomfortable." I handed Tongtong the water and said, "Then go inside and change into a t-shirt before you come out. You don't look like a girl at all. If this were when I was young, someone your size would be called indecent."

Tongtong took the glass of water and gulped it down in one go, laughing, "Dad, what era is this? Do you still think of your time? In this day and age, please, men shouldn't show too much skin, okay? Be careful you don't run into a female pervert and you're done for. Your daughter is strong and not afraid of men."

Sigh! Yes, this era is different from before. Women are becoming more and more rude and unrestrained, while men are becoming more and more effeminate. Many men even now consider effeminacy beautiful, and many young boys walking down the street give the illusion of being little girls with short hair.

In the initial years after the catastrophe, society was in chaos, with extremely poor public security and a soaring crime rate, especially rape cases, though it wasn't men raping women, but women raping men.

I have this problem. Although it's now the twenty-second year of the new era, my inner male chauvinism hasn't faded, making me seem somewhat out of place in this world.

Despite my inner male chauvinism, in reality, I'm a full-time stay-at-home dad. My wife's name is Sui Yanshu. She was the most beautiful girl in our department back then, and many boys pursued her. I overcame numerous strong rivals and won her heart.

We were deeply in love for three whole years in college, and we agreed to get married after graduation. At the time, I was the student affairs officer at the university, and using this advantage, I secured a job at a foreign company before graduation. So, neither of us needed to worry about finding jobs or an unstable life after graduation.

However, disaster struck in the second year of our marriage. Our relationship withstood the test of this once-in-a-century catastrophe, and it became even more precious afterward.

However, our social statuses were reversed after the disaster. Many jobs no longer needed men, and I, a top student from a prestigious university, could only find a job as a secretary in a private company, a job I held for seven or eight years. One day, Yan Shu said to me, "Honey, you don't need to go out to work anymore. Just stay home and be a good husband and mother. I'll earn money to support you." Around the same time, our second child was born. Indeed, I needed to quit my job to take care of the children. My wife, however, is a very capable woman. She rose from a sales clerk to the position of regional manager for Northeast China, earning over a million yuan a year, in just six or seven years. Now she's the president of the China region for a Fortune 500 company.

So, I became a full-time stay-at-home husband. Besides cooking and taking care of the children, I spent my days shopping with other stay-at-home husbands like myself, and getting skincare treatments at beauty salons to pass the time. Society has a new name for us "rich women": "ladies-in-waiting."

Some people enjoy this kind of life, but to me, I always felt like a pet kept by my wife, constantly catering to her tastes, dressing up, and fulfilling her every request, including sex.

Cooking is something I'm already very skilled at. While I was lost in thought, my daughter's lunch was ready. Tongtong ate her food in a few bites and then went out to play with her classmates.

I curled up on the sofa again, watching a boring TV series to kill time. Just as I was half-heartedly watching, I heard the door open.

I turned around and saw my wife, Sui Yan, had suddenly come home. I quickly went over, grabbed a pair of slippers and placed them at her feet, took her handbag and put it on the shoe cabinet, then put her shoes inside. This sequence of actions was the most habitual thing I'd done in over ten years. Although I always considered myself a "real man," in reality, everything I did was what a little woman should do, whether I admitted it or not.

Just as I put her shoes in the shoe cabinet, my arm was suddenly grabbed by her strong hand and lifted up, pulling me up. Then she wrapped her arms around my waist and lowered her head to kiss my lips.

My wife's sudden action left me a little bewildered. Although our sex life had been regular for over twenty years of marriage, she had kissed me for at least seven or eight years without intimacy. Moreover, this kiss was so intense that I was a little surprised and even a little scared.

I struggled to break free from her forceful kiss, my face flushed, and said, "You've been drinking again, haven't you? Coming home in broad daylight and acting like a drunkard." As I spoke, I turned and walked towards the bedroom to get her pajamas.

But I hadn't gone far when my wife pulled me back. She had indeed been drinking, and quite a lot. She reeked of alcohol and said, "I drank all afternoon with Christine, who just came from America. That foreign woman has a really high alcohol tolerance. It took me ages to close that deal." She then let out a burp, still smelling of alcohol, and continued, "Honey, how about that? Pretty amazing, huh? You closed such a big project, how are you going to repay me?" She looked at me with a mischievous grin. My face flushed, and I said, "You're really exaggerating. What time is it? Xiao Fan (our second child, a quiet and handsome boy) will be home from school soon. Hurry up and come inside to change. I'll wash you up, you can take a bath and get some sleep, then we'll have dinner."

My wife seemed not to hear me at all. She wrapped her arms around my waist, her eyes roaming over my body, and said, "Honey, your pajamas look so nice today. When did you buy them? I've never seen you wear them before." Then she leaned in to kiss my lips.

Men of this era are quite different from those of the previous generation. Although we don't wear women's clothing like the cross-dressers, CDs, and T-shirts of the past, men of this era mostly wear loose batwing shirts, or hip-length t-shirts paired with various styles of tight-fitting shorts, or cropped tops with capri pants—these have become the most common summer outfits for men of this era. However, as a middle-aged man, my clothing style isn't much different from that of young boys; I just don't wear overly flashy or sexy styles. But a hip-length long shirt paired with shorts that are only slightly larger than regular shorts is almost always my go-to outfit this summer.

Today, since I didn't go out, I only wore a pink V-neck nightgown that went past my hips. I didn't wear pajama bottoms or shorts, just a pair of underwear, revealing my fair thighs (I'm 1.65 meters tall, which is considered tall for a man, especially since I have a typical short torso and long legs; in my past life, I'd be a typical long-legged oppa). But I usually dress like this at home, and I think deep down, there's an element of wanting to seduce my wife, even though I won't admit it.

Today, my seduction was successful; my wife was clearly attracted to my "sexy" outfit. Although I didn't want to do "that" with her in broad daylight, especially with my youngest son possibly coming home at any moment, I couldn't resist my wife, who is much taller and stronger than me.

My wife's large hands roamed over my body, especially as they traced my legs upwards, her breath hot against my ear. I admit this teasing ignited a long-suppressed desire within me (actually, due to my wife's work, we hadn't made love for over two weeks. A woman in her forties should have a strong sex drive, but as someone constantly busy in the business world, I might not have time to think about sex—at least that's my understanding). When her hand reached the front of my underwear, my erection was already throbbing. My wife's nimble hand traced a circle around the tip of my penis through the cotton fabric, then mischievously pinched the glans hard. This action made me involuntarily let out a soft "Ah!" I squinted at her, giving her a slightly resentful glare. My wife

grinned wickedly and said, "You little slut, still won't admit it? Look how hard it is down there, like a little stick." With that, she suddenly swept me up in her arms and strode towards the bedroom.

I was held in her arms, my arms wrapped around her neck, gazing closely at this woman who had shared the catastrophe and lived with me for over twenty years. I remember the first time I saw her was at a student council event. She was the last student to enter the meeting room. When I first saw this latecomer, I was instantly captivated by her. She wore a V-neck, belted floral dress, and politely nodded to everyone. As she moved, a few strands of hair fell gracefully, landing alluringly on her fair and delicate neck. When she turned her head, her loosely styled black hair framed a breathtakingly beautiful face, her eyes sparkling like stars. A hint of surprise seemed to flash in her eyes; her long eyelashes fluttered, and a radiant light seemed to shimmer in her eyes.

In that instant of stunning beauty, I knew this girl would forever occupy my heart, and no other woman would ever be able to enter my inner world again.

In the days that followed, through my own efforts, I finally won my wife's heart. Back then, she was so petite and adorable, often nestled in my arms. We spent countless beautiful romantic evenings together in every corner of the campus.

However, the girl I once pampered, cherished, and even dominated, now effortlessly held me in her arms with the air of a possessive woman, gazing at me with a commanding gaze, leading me into the bedroom filled with an ambiguous, warm atmosphere.

My wife carried me into the bedroom and, without hesitation, pushed me down onto the bed with her. Her face, flushed and purple from the alcohol, had long hair that had been tied in a bun, now loose and disheveled. Her eyes seemed to spit fire as she looked at me, panting heavily.

Her expression reminded me of my first time with her. I think I had the same look then—an expression of wanting to devour the person beneath me. The difference was, this time, I was the one being devoured.

My wife's appearance has changed a lot over the years. She's no longer the petite and lovely woman she once was. Her figure, like most women in their forties, has become much more robust, and years of socializing have given her a large beer belly. Her face seems to have widened, and her hands have become rougher. You can still vaguely see traces of her youthful appearance in her features, but the difference is that she's lost her former tenderness and gained a resilient strength honed by hardship.

I know she's worked incredibly hard for me, for the children, and for this family all these years. I remember when she was pregnant with our second child, it was a crucial period in her career. Although pregnancy wasn't considered extremely difficult for women at that time, it still carried a living being. To meet all her sales targets before giving birth, she was still traveling and working tirelessly until the week before her due date. Yes, without her years of hard work, my children and I wouldn't have the comfortable and peaceful life we have today. I am truly grateful from the bottom of my heart for her sacrifices for this family.

Thinking of this, the feminine side of me that I had always been unwilling to admit resurfaced. I reached out and gently stroked her face, touching the obvious crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, then lifted my head and lovingly kissed the corner of her eye.

Perhaps my seductive gesture triggered a sudden surge of her estrogen, for I heard her let out a muffled groan, and her 130-pound body pressed down on me.

Her mouth kissed my lips without restraint. She pried open my teeth somewhat savagely and thrust her snake-like tongue into my mouth, swirling it around and quickly taking control of my soft tongue. The two tongues, like two mating snakes, mingled together, mixing their saliva and the burning desire within them.

My wife seemed a bit frenzied today. After a passionate, suffocating kiss, she suddenly lifted her head, grabbed my collar, and ripped my clothes apart with a snap, revealing a patch of my white breast. Although I was well past breastfeeding and my breasts were no longer swollen, my deep red nipples were still there, proudly erect in the air. The deep red nipples adorned my white breast like two cherries on a plate, waiting to be tasted (once a man has gone through breastfeeding, his nipples will never return to their original shape; this is the most direct way to distinguish between an unmarried boy and a married man with children). My wife, of course, wouldn't let this tempting dessert pass her by. She opened her mouth and greedily sucked on my nipple, but at this moment, her sucking was more like biting than sucking. Faced with my wife's almost unprecedentedly barbaric behavior, I was a little frightened. I endured the burning pain in my chest and whispered, "Be gentle, you're hurting me." My reminder didn't elicit any pity from my wife; instead, it further aroused her lust.

Her ravaging of my chest intensified, the tingling sensation mixed with pain igniting the flames of desire within me. I writhed beneath my wife, uttering moans that sounded like weeping, my erection growing ever stronger.

My wife felt my penis pressing firmly against her abdomen; she knew that this little rod, like its owner, needed release, the release of its long-suppressed fire.

Finally, she released my swollen, red nipples, lowering her head to kiss down my smooth skin, all the way to the source of my female desire.

Like my pajamas, my underwear also met its fate of being torn apart. With my wife's forceful ripping, my underwear was reduced to shreds, my already erect penis instantly exposed to the air. The sudden exposure caused my erect penis to tremble violently, a few drops of lustful dew dripping from the rosy glans.

As a man over forty-five, my body, unlike most women of this age, hadn't become loose and sallow; instead, it remained fair and supple, including my penis.

For women, a man's penis is like a woman's breasts in a patriarchal society—the source of all female sexual desire. Its quality and beauty directly influence a woman's sexual attraction to that man.

Therefore, men often care about their penises as much as women cared about their breasts in the past. In my previous life, my penis was very white. My wife often said my cock was like a big rolling pin, large, white, and hard.

Now, that cock is still the same cock, but in my wife's eyes, it has lost its former majesty and become a large white rabbit that she loves to play with.

At this moment, my wife treats it like a child playing with a toy, using her hand to stroke that already hard and white rabbit. With her strokes, the rabbit bounces happily between my legs, the white scrotum beneath the jade stem tinged with pink, like a white lotus flower adorning my crotch. My wife lovingly grabs my pink scrotum and rubs it, while her other hand grasps the large white rabbit, which seems to be trying to break free, and continues to stroke it.

My wife, while fondling me, said, "Little slut, do you know what I love most about you? I love this part of you the most. It's still so white and tender after all these years, and the feel in my hand is still just as perfect, soft yet firm." As she spoke, she increased the pressure and speed of her touch. Soon, the tip of my penis became increasingly red, and more and more love fluid oozed from the urethral opening, so much that it soaked my wife's left hand. My wife stopped, spreading her fingers to carefully admire the strands of fluid clinging to them, and said, "Little slut, do you want it? If you do, just say it out loud."

Faced with my wife's teasing, which bordered on humiliation, my heart was filled with mixed emotions. "Little slut" was a term I often used to call her when we made love. In the first seven or eight years after the catastrophe, although our sexual practices had reversed, my wife remained gentle with me, sometimes even displaying a woman's charm and shy, feminine side during lovemaking. But after the birth of our second child, my wife became increasingly domineering and more and more like a man during lovemaking. And it was around this time that she started calling me "little slut." Although I protested, I was met with a torrent of abuse. I knew that with my current status and position, my protests were futile, because I was her man, and my body belonged entirely to her. Sometimes I even felt like I was her private property.

At this moment, I was in a daze, my eyes and brows brimming with tears, unable to respond to her with words, only able to respond to my wife's humiliating provocations with plaintive moans.

My wife had already taken off her clothes, revealing her slightly plump and robust body. Her skin was still very white, especially when she unhooked her bra, revealing her proud breasts, still so fair and sexy. But at this moment, a woman's breasts brought a man not only sexiness but also a display of power. My wife,

now naked, pressed herself against my crotch, opening her mouth to take my desire in. Her tongue was still so agile, just like when she used to give me oral sex, greedily sucking at my desire. Under my wife's superb tongue skills, my penis almost reached its peak of climax, my moans grew louder and louder, and my wife knew I was about to ejaculate. Of course, my wife wouldn't let me release so easily. Although men at this age can ejaculate several times in a row, my wife clearly wasn't going to let me reach my first orgasm so quickly.

She released my wet penis from her mouth, and my originally fair penis, under her caresses, turned a lascivious pink.

My wife slapped my face and then left my body. I opened my eyes to find my wife sitting opposite me with her legs spread wide. In contrast to my sparse pubic hair, my wife's pubic hair was thick and black. Underneath this dark pubic hair, her two dark labia were turned outwards, and her deep red vaginal opening opened and closed, like a hungry beast opening its blood-red maw, constantly dripping with hungry saliva, wanting to devour the little rabbit in front of it.

Having lived with my wife for so many years, I knew what my wife's position meant next. I obediently got up and knelt between my wife's legs, giving her oral sex before the actual intercourse.

Although women are more active in sexual activity in this era, men's sexual organs haven't shrunk as much as their bodies. For example, my penis was 16 centimeters when erect in my previous life, and it's still nearly 15 centimeters now. A 15-centimeter penis would probably be quite painful for a woman without sufficient lubrication.

I lay between my wife's legs, inhaling the warm breath emanating from her vagina, and skillfully teasing her already parted lips with my tongue, while my right hand played with her clitoris. My wife's clitoris was large and round, resembling a man's glans. In fact, women's clitoris are generally quite large in this era, some reaching two or three centimeters when erect, and my wife's clitoris was over two centimeters when erect, round, hard, and about the size of my thumb, proudly standing at the top of her pubic hair, overlooking her territory. (At this time, men's hands weren't large, roughly the size of an eleven or twelve-year-old boy's hand.) My hand slowly felt my wife's clitoris hard as iron, and I raised my head and licked the clitoris that symbolized my wife's sexual power.

My wife clearly reached orgasm under my licking. She grabbed my head and pressed it hard against her crotch, covering my face with her entire vulva. I knew her orgasm was imminent, so I quickened my licking of her vagina. Sure enough, with a muffled groan from my wife, her vagina suddenly gushed out wave after wave of fluid, the sour and salty taste filling my mouth.

My wife cupped my face in her hands, gazing at my pale face covered in her own fluids. A conqueror's expression graced her face; I knew this was my favorite moment—my fair, rosy face glistening with her own juices. These days, women call it a facial.

Her admiration lasted only a few seconds. She shoved me back onto the bed, rose, parted her labia with one hand, and, with the other, straddled my penis.

A woman 1.7 meters tall and weighing 130 pounds, sitting on a thin man only 1.5 meters tall and weighing just over 70 pounds—the impact and pressure she exerted on me was immense.

I felt my penis being enveloped in a high-temperature furnace, filled with fiery liquid that seemed to melt me.

After sitting down, my wife let out a deep, pleasurable moan, then pressed her hands against my shoulders, her hips beginning to sway wildly. Her large breasts rose and fell with her movements like angry waves, defiantly displaying their feminine power to the man beneath her.

As my wife swayed wildly and violently, my penis, encased in her vagina, felt as if it were about to snap. The folds within her vagina felt like the fangs of a wild beast, constantly tearing at the G-spot at the tip of my penis.

Suddenly, my wife lifted me up, pressing my head between her breasts, straddling my lap, her arms tightly wrapped around my slender waist, and began to thrust violently. This position used to be my favorite, because I loved seeing my wife's expression of ecstasy in my arms. But now, I was the one writhing beneath her, the role reversal filling me with shame each time, yet my wife seemed to revel in it.

At this moment, all of my wife's weight was concentrated on my penis, and with this powerful thrusting, I finally ejaculated for the first time, thick streams of semen shooting into my wife's uterus. My wife's uterus, as if encountering nectar, greedily sucked in my penis, consuming every last drop of semen.

My penis did not soften with my ejaculation, for its master had only just begun. My wife pinned me to the bed, pressing her body against mine, spreading my legs, and began thrusting into me like a man having sex with a woman. With each powerful, earth-shattering motion, she made a series of resounding slapping sounds—sounds so familiar, the sounds I used to make when I was having sex with my wife, now the sounds of her having sex with me.

Under her vigorous ministrations, my second orgasm arrived. I groaned loudly, a low moan escaping my eyes, my chest heaving. I groaned to my wife, "Wife, I can't take it anymore, I'm going to break!" My wife didn't respond with words, but with even more intense movements. The slapping sounds grew louder, the movements faster and faster, until finally, with a soft moan from me, my wife made a sound like she was defecating, and we both climaxed simultaneously.

My wife looked at me, I looked at my wife, and we remained silent. A moment later, my wife stood up, and a milky white liquid dripped from between her legs, a few drops landing on the bed. She reached for some wet wipes on the bedside table, wiped away the semen, and said, "Honey, you came so much today. You've been holding it in for days, haven't you?" She then ran naked to the bathroom to clean herself. I, already exhausted from her ministrations, lay on the bed, panting softly. A little while later, my wife returned, carefully wiping my limp penis with a damp towel soaked in hot water. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation, letting her do as she pleased. After a while, my wife suddenly shouted, "Damn it! I forgot it's my ovulation period! Drinking ruined everything!" I closed my eyes, a smug smile on my face, thinking, "No matter how you fuck me, in the end, I'm the one who ejaculates in you, and this seed is still inside you." Thinking this, I felt a surge of masculine energy again, and I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, satisfied. As for dinner, I'll let my wife prepare it herself. She's already done so much for me; it's her turn to cook for me next time.

Just as I was feeling content, my wife said from the kitchen, "Honey, I'll fry you two eggs to help you recover. Let's keep going tonight; I want to give you another pair of twins."
[The End]

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Times have changed, men and women are different

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