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More from fwbrown61
It'll happen someday. Somebody will walk into
a furcon and everybody will gasp. It's *not*
a fursuit!!
Pandemonium. Conniptions. Media coverage.
If they can make the tail wag, okay, they're
definitely on to something.
Or. . . What if. . .? It could happen like this story...
.
...................................................................................................................................
...................................................................................................................................
❱❱❱❱ NOTA BENE: This story is in an enhanced, better-readable font. It's designed to be read on
cyan background screens. Only. There's a second version that's readable
on dark screens.
It's here: WORLD PEACE NOW!!! -- Standard Text
...................................................................................................................................
...................................................................................................................................
"Ho-kay, even for her, as eccentric as she is, that was... a little over the
top," the ViroTech Ltd. Board Chairman said slowly to the assembled (and frankly
totally stunned) Board members.
"Tell me about it," whispered a dazed Carl Rogers, running a hand in
bafflement through his salt-and-pepper hair. He was pretty much frozen in his
chair, definitely not going anywhere for a few minutes.
A sunny summer Friday afternoon. An ordinary, commoner-garden quarterly
board meeting (wherein everyone really wanted to be out golfing). Rogers, the
company's tough and lean CEO, had been discussing the next quarter's sales
projections and the minor quirk that would cause in the next Revenue Canada tax
filing.
When who should stroll in, blithely unannounced, but the angelicly blonde-
and-blue-eyed Dr. Carol Murchison, BSc, MSc, multiple-PhD, and the walking
contradiction to every blonde joke ever written. No doubt eventual Nobel
laureate too; nobody was betting otherwise.
Now, as ViroTech's 29-year-old gifted chief research scientist, Murchison
could have interrupted the whole Board while everyone was in the can and
nobody would've batted an eyelash. She had made everyone rich, after all.
But when the normally buttoned-down but gloriously gorgeous female nerd
(she was that too) all but sashayed into the boardroom, glommed hard onto
Rogers around his neck, then planted a fiery, smouldering, high-megawatt kiss
on her boggled boss's lips?
Then whispered something in his ear, then turned around in the shocked
silence and left without saying a word?
Lastly, dressed in what had to be the most out-of-character, cleavage-
revealing, erotically-ruffled miniskirt the whole roomful of hard-nosed
businesspeople had ever seen?
Well.
"Rogers, should we put a no-fondling-the-Chief-Researcher clause into your
next contract?" drawled one female Board member. "I can see how kisses like
that could sorta cut into your management effectiveness, y'know."
"Got way more equity than him in this damn company and she didn't kiss
me," grumbled another Board member.
"Forthingham, you're almost on life support, you old fart. Kiss like that
would've stopped your heart," cracked somebody else. A ripple of laughter went
around the long boardroom table.
"No excuse, and do you have a better way to go?" retorted said old fart dryly.
"Something you're not telling us, Rogers?" the Chairman murmured, an
eyebrow raised. "That might affect our stock price when it gets out, I mean?"
"I love my wife. I'm a happily married man," Rogers said weakly, recovering
but only slowly.
"More kisses where that came from, not for long," came a soto voce
comment.
"Dibs on his office after Emily slaughters him with a chainsaw."
"His wife? Nah, she'll just haul out a .45 and shoot him. Remember that
scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark?"
The Chairman tapped his gavel lightly on the polished table. "Enough," he
said. "I remember the last time Murchison wigged out on us. Right after she
found a cure for herpes. They're still talking about the two-week party she threw
in Vancouver. Cost us thirty grand to repair the hotel. She may be a superb
scientist, but she's also one of the most repressed women I've ever known. When
she cuts loose she takes no prisoners, usually triggered by some fantastic
breakthrough in the lab. What's she been working on, Rogers?"
"Ah, general AIDS vaccine work, looking to take a counter-virus approach to
tweaking the immune system," Rogers said, finally snapping completely out of his
bogglement. "Use a virus to fight a virus. But it's all way speculative, nowheres
near a success point."
"Secret side project bearing fruit, perhaps?" asked a Board member.
"Doesn't have any that I know of."
"Then I strongly suggest we get on with this meeting," the Board Chair said
evenly, "Save only for you, Rogers, who are going to get out of here, grab that
woman by whatever's not going to land us in a sexual harassment suit, and find
out what the hell just happened here."
"Whoops, minor technical problem," one Board member remarked, after a
random glance out the window. "Isn't that her Porsche pulling up at the gate?"
The whole Board found itself at the windows. They watched, slack-jawed, as
Murchison's car stopped, disgorged a leggy Murchison, the Security Guard came
out of his booth...
"Holy crap, she's on quite the kissing streak today, isn't she? Look at 'em go."
"Thought she was lesbian."
"She is. And a bit militant about it from how I got my ears pinned back last
Christmas party. Little pat on the fanny and ka-pow: Feminist rant time."
"Forthingham, you are a lecher! She's too young, could almost be your
daughter."
"At my age they're all too young. More's the pity, but to the right one a good
stock tip doesn't do half bad as an aphrodisiac."
"All right: Rich lecher then."
Murchison finished with the Security Guard and got back into her Porsche.
The gate rose up and she drove out.
"Ruined his effectiveness for the rest of the day, that's for sure."
"Maybe she found a designer-virus cure for homosexuality?"
"Hold it!! Gay Board Chairman over here, you all know me. Anybody dumb
enough to think gay is a disease to be cured I'll kick you in the options."
"Yeah, yeah, chief, I know. No offense intended. What about a working
aphrodisiac, then? Virus based? Might explain her smooching spree. She's onto
something new, that's for sure."
Had the Board members been dogs and cats, every ear and tail in the room
would've gone <Poing!> straight up. New work from Murchison? Hello...
Sputtering came from one Board member who actually knew some biology.
"Hold it take two! Do you have any idea of the neurotransmitter cascades
involved in human sexual response? Nobody could make a virus do..."
"If anybody could do it, it would be Murchison. My God, good-bye Viagra,
meet... what the hell do we name it?"
"Forthingham's Dream Pill."
"<Pphbbbtt!!>"
"Yeah, but still..."
Ferocious wrangling broke out generally around the room, which is what the
prospect of windfall bio-tech profits will generally do to a Board of Directors. A
wrangling laced with sex.
"Just a guess, but I think our agenda has been neatly torpedoed for the
afternoon," the Board Chair said in a low voice to Rogers. "Try and catch
Murchison, however you can, while I try and adjourn these idiots. Before they
vote for an actual aphrodisiac project, for Christ's sake."
Rogers glanced around the room. Several older Board members were in
vigorous debate with the younger ones about who could still do it, much to the
amusement of some of the women present. A couple of people had their cell
phones out and were talking excitedly.
"Better hurry with that adjournment," Rogers murmured. "I smell gold
fever."
"What did she say to you?"
"She said, 'World peace now.'"
"Hanh? Really. World peace now. Ummm..."
"My thoughts exactly."
"Damn and blast that woman! Find her!!"
---
=============================================================================
Page 1
Pg 2 NEXT >>>
a furcon and everybody will gasp. It's *not*
a fursuit!!
Pandemonium. Conniptions. Media coverage.
If they can make the tail wag, okay, they're
definitely on to something.
Or. . . What if. . .? It could happen like this story...
.
...................................................................................................................................
...................................................................................................................................
❱❱❱❱ NOTA BENE: This story is in an enhanced, better-readable font. It's designed to be read on
cyan background screens. Only. There's a second version that's readable
on dark screens.
It's here: WORLD PEACE NOW!!! -- Standard Text
...................................................................................................................................
...................................................................................................................................
>>>>> WORLD PEACE NOW!!! -- Enhanced Text <<<<<
By Fred Brown, Mar 8/2004 (rev. Mar 18/2012) 
fwbrown61
Copyright 2004 All rights reserved, all commercial infringements prosecuted, website
display permission available upon request. Non-personal distro is infringement.
Disclaimer: No characters are intended to resemble real people, living or dead, and
any such similarities are pure coincidence. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
fwbrown61"Ho-kay, even for her, as eccentric as she is, that was... a little over the
top," the ViroTech Ltd. Board Chairman said slowly to the assembled (and frankly
totally stunned) Board members.
"Tell me about it," whispered a dazed Carl Rogers, running a hand in
bafflement through his salt-and-pepper hair. He was pretty much frozen in his
chair, definitely not going anywhere for a few minutes.
A sunny summer Friday afternoon. An ordinary, commoner-garden quarterly
board meeting (wherein everyone really wanted to be out golfing). Rogers, the
company's tough and lean CEO, had been discussing the next quarter's sales
projections and the minor quirk that would cause in the next Revenue Canada tax
filing.
When who should stroll in, blithely unannounced, but the angelicly blonde-
and-blue-eyed Dr. Carol Murchison, BSc, MSc, multiple-PhD, and the walking
contradiction to every blonde joke ever written. No doubt eventual Nobel
laureate too; nobody was betting otherwise.
Now, as ViroTech's 29-year-old gifted chief research scientist, Murchison
could have interrupted the whole Board while everyone was in the can and
nobody would've batted an eyelash. She had made everyone rich, after all.
But when the normally buttoned-down but gloriously gorgeous female nerd
(she was that too) all but sashayed into the boardroom, glommed hard onto
Rogers around his neck, then planted a fiery, smouldering, high-megawatt kiss
on her boggled boss's lips?
Then whispered something in his ear, then turned around in the shocked
silence and left without saying a word?
Lastly, dressed in what had to be the most out-of-character, cleavage-
revealing, erotically-ruffled miniskirt the whole roomful of hard-nosed
businesspeople had ever seen?
Well.
"Rogers, should we put a no-fondling-the-Chief-Researcher clause into your
next contract?" drawled one female Board member. "I can see how kisses like
that could sorta cut into your management effectiveness, y'know."
"Got way more equity than him in this damn company and she didn't kiss
me," grumbled another Board member.
"Forthingham, you're almost on life support, you old fart. Kiss like that
would've stopped your heart," cracked somebody else. A ripple of laughter went
around the long boardroom table.
"No excuse, and do you have a better way to go?" retorted said old fart dryly.
"Something you're not telling us, Rogers?" the Chairman murmured, an
eyebrow raised. "That might affect our stock price when it gets out, I mean?"
"I love my wife. I'm a happily married man," Rogers said weakly, recovering
but only slowly.
"More kisses where that came from, not for long," came a soto voce
comment.
"Dibs on his office after Emily slaughters him with a chainsaw."
"His wife? Nah, she'll just haul out a .45 and shoot him. Remember that
scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark?"
The Chairman tapped his gavel lightly on the polished table. "Enough," he
said. "I remember the last time Murchison wigged out on us. Right after she
found a cure for herpes. They're still talking about the two-week party she threw
in Vancouver. Cost us thirty grand to repair the hotel. She may be a superb
scientist, but she's also one of the most repressed women I've ever known. When
she cuts loose she takes no prisoners, usually triggered by some fantastic
breakthrough in the lab. What's she been working on, Rogers?"
"Ah, general AIDS vaccine work, looking to take a counter-virus approach to
tweaking the immune system," Rogers said, finally snapping completely out of his
bogglement. "Use a virus to fight a virus. But it's all way speculative, nowheres
near a success point."
"Secret side project bearing fruit, perhaps?" asked a Board member.
"Doesn't have any that I know of."
"Then I strongly suggest we get on with this meeting," the Board Chair said
evenly, "Save only for you, Rogers, who are going to get out of here, grab that
woman by whatever's not going to land us in a sexual harassment suit, and find
out what the hell just happened here."
"Whoops, minor technical problem," one Board member remarked, after a
random glance out the window. "Isn't that her Porsche pulling up at the gate?"
The whole Board found itself at the windows. They watched, slack-jawed, as
Murchison's car stopped, disgorged a leggy Murchison, the Security Guard came
out of his booth...
"Holy crap, she's on quite the kissing streak today, isn't she? Look at 'em go."
"Thought she was lesbian."
"She is. And a bit militant about it from how I got my ears pinned back last
Christmas party. Little pat on the fanny and ka-pow: Feminist rant time."
"Forthingham, you are a lecher! She's too young, could almost be your
daughter."
"At my age they're all too young. More's the pity, but to the right one a good
stock tip doesn't do half bad as an aphrodisiac."
"All right: Rich lecher then."
Murchison finished with the Security Guard and got back into her Porsche.
The gate rose up and she drove out.
"Ruined his effectiveness for the rest of the day, that's for sure."
"Maybe she found a designer-virus cure for homosexuality?"
"Hold it!! Gay Board Chairman over here, you all know me. Anybody dumb
enough to think gay is a disease to be cured I'll kick you in the options."
"Yeah, yeah, chief, I know. No offense intended. What about a working
aphrodisiac, then? Virus based? Might explain her smooching spree. She's onto
something new, that's for sure."
Had the Board members been dogs and cats, every ear and tail in the room
would've gone <Poing!> straight up. New work from Murchison? Hello...
Sputtering came from one Board member who actually knew some biology.
"Hold it take two! Do you have any idea of the neurotransmitter cascades
involved in human sexual response? Nobody could make a virus do..."
"If anybody could do it, it would be Murchison. My God, good-bye Viagra,
meet... what the hell do we name it?"
"Forthingham's Dream Pill."
"<Pphbbbtt!!>"
"Yeah, but still..."
Ferocious wrangling broke out generally around the room, which is what the
prospect of windfall bio-tech profits will generally do to a Board of Directors. A
wrangling laced with sex.
"Just a guess, but I think our agenda has been neatly torpedoed for the
afternoon," the Board Chair said in a low voice to Rogers. "Try and catch
Murchison, however you can, while I try and adjourn these idiots. Before they
vote for an actual aphrodisiac project, for Christ's sake."
Rogers glanced around the room. Several older Board members were in
vigorous debate with the younger ones about who could still do it, much to the
amusement of some of the women present. A couple of people had their cell
phones out and were talking excitedly.
"Better hurry with that adjournment," Rogers murmured. "I smell gold
fever."
"What did she say to you?"
"She said, 'World peace now.'"
"Hanh? Really. World peace now. Ummm..."
"My thoughts exactly."
"Damn and blast that woman! Find her!!"
---
=============================================================================
Page 1
Pg 2 NEXT >>>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Mammal (Other)
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 159.2 kB
Thank you. For the life of me, I don't remember where the spark for this
story came from--too long ago--but I'm glad it turned out fun for you.
As I've said elsewhere, why can't a mad scientist be a smokin' hot babe, hmmm?
Where is it written? Answer me that. :- )
I do feel sequel thoughts brewing too, since this 'viral DNA' jazz is the linch-pin idea
behind all my Fur World stories (even though this story was written waaay earlier).
As in, an SF-grade-plausible explanation for how and why furs exist. What happens
from there? Oooo, lotsa stuff.
And if somebody actually does show up at a furcon sporting a real tail (or more),
well, I suppose I'm just gonna look awfully smart, won't I? *
FB.
* Ya gotta admit, there *is* something about a woman with a tail. :- )
(Or a guy; let's be broadminded)
story came from--too long ago--but I'm glad it turned out fun for you.
As I've said elsewhere, why can't a mad scientist be a smokin' hot babe, hmmm?
Where is it written? Answer me that. :- )
I do feel sequel thoughts brewing too, since this 'viral DNA' jazz is the linch-pin idea
behind all my Fur World stories (even though this story was written waaay earlier).
As in, an SF-grade-plausible explanation for how and why furs exist. What happens
from there? Oooo, lotsa stuff.
And if somebody actually does show up at a furcon sporting a real tail (or more),
well, I suppose I'm just gonna look awfully smart, won't I? *
FB.
* Ya gotta admit, there *is* something about a woman with a tail. :- )
(Or a guy; let's be broadminded)
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