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Chapter Forty Four - Hollywood

Updated on August 28, 2018

Impersonation

If I'd been a few years younger, or shown interest, David would never be the star of 'Passing Perfect'.

When I looked in the mirror I was impressed. Even more impressed now than I'd been the first time.

More impressed on how I made myself look like a Superboy without the pharmacy.

My ginger hair, my glowing skin, my perfect body...I really was all that. Women were flinging themselves at me.

Correction, Famous Women.
Married ones.

They thought I was a Gennie.

No fleege.
They thought I was a Gennie, and were jumping into bed with that.
Protectively, I found out early.

Can you imagine...?

Imagine, Imogene Imana, ingenue, the bodice of her dress pulled down,
exposing two engineered breasts, saying;

"Am I the first normal woman you're taking to bed?"

I mutter something about normal, as if she was insinuating I slept with freakzoids,
then realising how offline her question, twisted .."Why do you ask that?"

"As a Gennie..."

"I'm not a Gennie."

"I'm sorry, I mean, a Eugenic."

"You are going to have sex with me because,,, I'm a Eugenic?" I exclaim.

"Aren't you?" she asks as the dress is pulled up.

"I'm not an experiment!" I fling, roughing and projecting my voice to sound less Doug, more Eugenic, moving to the door.

"Don't go! Please!" she begged, but I'd lost the mood.

I opened the door, she flung herself against it, pressing her body against mine.

And I thought to myself, free pussy is free pussy.

Fems were lining up for my sperm. They thought I was the real thing, and because
I'm no damn good, I went with their delusion.

The population actually believed a real live Superboy had come to Earth to act as
consultant in some flick, and I was that Superboy.
You want an ego jumper?
Better than that?

Sure it's stupid.

How Gennies are...really...

If you ever met a Gennie you'd know how stupid that was. Gennies don't give
rat puke for normals. The mere idea of sharing a flat with a normal would make
the average Gennie heave, and to expose his culture, even in the most
genuflecting light, was abhorrent.

Superboys considered Normals bags of germs. They find Norm women ugly...like
dating a chimpanzee.

Having been with a Supergirl, I can raise my hand in agreement.
The texture of Superskin is warm velvet. Her sweat more enticing than the most
expensive perfume. The most beautiful Hollywood Goddess is on par with a
shopgirl compared to a Gennie fem.

If I had been a Superboy, I wouldn't let them touch me.
But I was just Doug Hooker.
Getting it on.

David the Actor had 'Gennified' well. Although about thirty six he looked at least
four years younger. With his long black braids and his face held in the Gennie
default of mock innocence, he should have his choice of the best Hollywood had
on offer, instead of starlet wannabes.

I tried to toss a few fems his way, but they knew he was only a human playing
Gennie for the purpose of a flick. Unlike me; who was the 'real thing'.

If ever there was a case of no justice in the world, it was this; That me, a Professor
of Archeology, (and part time smuggler) was being dished pussy until it was
coming out of his ears because the idiots thought he was a Eugenic, and David
the actor wasn't even getting my discards.

It got so bad, I had to cut out most exercises because I was that tired.
And it got so bad, the studio decided it could do without me, (for obvious reasons).

I was paid off before the flick was finished, and after packing my bag, wondered
where I was going.

I did not want to go back to Brooklyn College.
I did not want to visit my wives.

I'm not unique, I'm honest.

I admit that there's a fragment of me which wants to be the serious and
respectable married father. But most of me is quite happy being worthless.

I don't think people, at least those in this century, were meant to be death do
ye part. I think they were meant to form meaningless relationships with every
passing stranger, slap their names on a few sperm and have them grown into
children, but not really be there to raise them.

What would I tell my son?
My daughter?
Daddy is a what?
A boring Professor?
A curator at a museum?
A smuggler?
What?
And what could I tell them?
I don't know anything about kids, I never liked being one.

Having three wives on three different planets and seeing them once and a
while was enough stability.

Put yourself in my place; especially handsome, (I passed as a Gennie, right?)
in Hollywood, fems diving on me...no normal man would turn it down.

Still, I'd of liked to have seen how the picture shaped up.
Guess I'll have to buy a ticket if it comes out.

Anyway, I had a ship full of stuff.... guess Smudge was it.

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