The world had already changed once. The sudden disappearance of all men except black men had shattered nations, economies, and families overnight. Governments had collapsed, cities descended into chaos, and humanity had been forced to rebuild under women's rule. But the world was about to change again.
At first, whispers spread like wildfire. Women who were considered "average" or "unattractive" had vanished. Only the beautiful women remained. Scientists called it inexplicable. Social media was flooded with panic, outrage, and disbelief. Entire towns were now populated by stunning women, their beauty both a blessing and a curse. The world's hierarchy had shifted once more, but this time, physical appearance dictated survival.
The ruling councils of remaining nations convened urgently. With only the most attractive women left, leadership became a tight-knit, almost exclusive club. These women realized quickly that survival of the species required a new approach. Attempts at artificial reproduction had already failed. Without men, humanity could not continue. The solution was clear and unavoidable: cooperation with black men, the only surviving males.
A historic decree was passed: acceptance and collaboration with black men were mandatory for reproduction and the continuation of humanity. Initially, resistance ran deep. Many women recoiled from the idea, caught in prejudices and the fear of intimacy after such cataclysm. But the reality was stark. This was the only way forward.
Among the remaining population of beautiful women was Isabelle. She was twenty eight, radiant 5'10 ,10 on 10,voluptuous body,with mouth watering curves,big bust fresh not sagged proting straight,big ass almost the size of basketball and had once lived a life of stability and privilege. Married to Richard, a successful entrepreneur, she had one son. Both Richard and her child had vanished during the first disappearance, along with her brothers and their families. Now, she lived with only her mother, a quiet woman who had become Isabelle's closest confidante.
Life was strange and empty, even in a world that seemed glittering with beauty. Isabelle's mornings were quiet. She wandered through the city streets, which had been rebuilt under women's leadership, a place where power and beauty coincided. Governments, corporations, and communities were run by women like her gorgeous, commanding, and resourceful. But beauty alone could not fill the void left by her family.
And then she saw him.
Jamal.
He was unremarkable by most standards a one out of ten in conventional physical attractiveness but he was alive, one of the surviving black men who had endured the earlier cataclysm.he had very dark skin was 5'5 skinny and gaunt looking guy and Isabelle's first instinct was to dismiss him, to see only the societal rule that mandated their cooperation. But she could not. There was something human in his presence, something raw and unfiltered that broke through the polished world of beauty around her.
Over the next few weeks, Isabelle and Jamal crossed paths repeatedly. The city had been organized into safe districts for interactions between women and black men, to facilitate the essential reproduction required to preserve the species. Isabelle's encounters were awkward at first. She tried to remain detached, to treat him like a tool or an obligation. But Jamal's patience, humility, and quiet strength gradually wore down her barriers.
She found herself thinking about him late at night, wondering if the rules of survival could coexist with the stirrings of her heart. Conflict gnawed at her. She was raised in a world that valued privilege and beauty; Jamal represented a truth she had to accept but struggled to embrace fully. The ethical, emotional, and biological dimensions of humanity's survival collided in her mind.
Eventually, Isabelle agreed to a formal outing. A dinner organized by the city council to encourage social bonding between women and black men. She felt tension as she prepared, aware of her own heartbeats and the eyes of the city watching her every move. She met Jamal in the soft glow of the restaurant's evening lights. Conversation began cautiously, a mixture of small talk and probing questions about survival, family, and humanity's future.
Hours passed. They laughed, debated, and found moments of shared understanding. Isabelle realized that what she felt was more than duty; it was curiosity, respect, and an unexpected attraction she could not deny. The world outside was still fraught with challenges, but in that moment, it was just the two of them navigating a strange new human experience.
As the evening drew to a close, they shared their first kiss. It was hesitant, full of uncertainty, yet deeply human. Isabelle felt the weight of the world lift, if only slightly, in the warmth of the moment. She withdrew slightly, contemplating what had just happened. In the quiet of her room later, she sat by the window, staring at the cityscape. The lights reflected in her eyes, a mirror of the complexity within.
She thought of her son, her vanished family, and the future she had once feared. And yet, despite the pain and loss, despite the rules that had forced her into this situation, she felt a spark of possibility. Humanity could continue. Love could still exist in a world remade by tragedy. And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to embrace this new reality, beauty and all.
The world outside had shifted, survival had demanded impossible decisions, and yet, in the quiet intimacy of her room, Isabelle allowed herself a fragile hope. A hope born from loss, resilience, and a truth she had long resisted.
This was the beginning of a new era.
Her pov
Isabelle had grown accustomed to a world rebuilt for beauty. Everywhere she looked, women walked confidently, their perfect hair catching the sun, their high heels clicking against the smooth stone of the rebuilt city. It was dazzling, almost unreal. But it was also hollow. In the quiet of her apartment, when she looked in the mirror, she saw the absence of her husband and her son, and no amount of perfection around her could fill that emptiness.
Her mother sat across from her at the small kitchen table, sipping tea. Isabelle had stopped even trying to talk about her loss. What could she say? Words felt empty when everything she loved had vanished overnight.
She wandered out that morning without thought, not bothering with makeup. Why bother? No one she knew would judge her, no one would care. Beauty was everywhere now. She blended in, the way she always did.
And then she saw him.
Jamal.
He stood near the market, a black man of average height, five foot five, with a nervous energy about him. He wasn't handsome in the conventional sense. In the world that had survived, he barely registered as a "one out of ten," Isabelle's mind immediately cataloged. Yet… somehow… she could not look away.
He moved with a cautious awareness, as if he knew the entire city of beautiful women was watching him, waiting to see if he would break, flinch, or falter. Most men she had seen before had vanished, but Jamal remained tall in spirit, if not in stature.
Isabelle caught herself staring, heart unexpectedly pounding. Why am I staring? He's… not supposed to matter to me. This is survival. He's just… biology. Rules. Her mind tried to classify him, to place him in the neat little category the city council had created. Men like him were necessary for reproduction, that was all. The rule was clear. Cooperation or extinction.
But the human part of her the part she hadn't realized had survived this chaotic new world felt a flicker of something else. Curiosity. Something more. A pull I can't ignore.
She watched as Jamal dropped a crate of fruit, flinching slightly, muttering to himself. A small crowd of women stepped around him, their perfect stares sharp, assessing, judging. Isabelle moved closer, instinctively, drawn by some strange sympathy.
"Here," she said, reaching down to pick up a few oranges he had dropped. Her fingers brushed his briefly, and the warmth of his skin sent a tiny shock through her.
Jamal looked up, startled. His eyes widened slightly, unsure if he should be grateful or embarrassed. "Uh… thanks," he said softly. His voice was deep but not commanding. Just human. Real.
Isabelle nodded, offering nothing else. Her thoughts raced. Why am I thinking about him this way? He's… small. Average. He's not me, not my husband, not my son. I… shouldn't feel anything.
But she did.
Over the next few days, Isabelle saw him more frequently. She noticed little things how he carried himself, how he kept his hands slightly raised when passing through the crowds, a cautious deference that seemed ingrained. She began to observe him quietly, notebooking in her mind every detail.
The first real conversation happened in the park, a few days later. Isabelle had sat on a bench under a tree, pretending to read a book while sneaking glances at him. Jamal was there, sitting on a low wall, cleaning small scratches from his hands.
"You're always watching me," he said suddenly, without looking up.
Isabelle nearly jumped, startled. "I'm… not," she stammered.
He tilted his head, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, you are. I see you. Always somewhere near."
Her cheeks flushed. "I… I'm just… curious," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. She couldn't meet his eyes. Why is my heart racing? He's not… he's not supposed to…
"Curious about me?" he asked softly. "Or curious about what I can do?"
She froze. That blunt question made her cheeks burn hotter. She wanted to tell him she didn't care, that this was just societal necessity, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together.
He finally laughed, a short, unassuming sound. "Relax. I'm not dangerous. I know the rules. I'm just… living."
Something in that simplicity broke through her defenses. She nodded, feeling a little lighter. "I… I know. I just… I've never… met anyone like you before."
"Like me?" he asked, curious.
"Yes," she said, her voice softening. "In a world full of… rules and perfection… you're… human."
Weeks passed, and Isabelle's feelings grew. The city council had organized sanctioned dates between women and the surviving black men. She had not been eager to participate. In fact, on the morning of her first date, she had not even considered doing her hair or makeup. She was going to meet Jamal simply because she was required to, and because curiosity had grown into something more complicated.
She waited at the meeting point, wearing a simple dress, her hair pulled back loosely. When Jamal arrived, she felt her heart clench in an unexpected way. He looked at her shyly, offering a small smile. She returned it awkwardly, self-conscious about her lack of preparation.
"You didn't do… anything," he said gently, with no judgment.
"I didn't see the point," she muttered, feeling suddenly defensive.
He chuckled softly. "I think you look fine."
She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. Something about his unpretentious nature disarmed her.
They walked through the rebuilt city, talking cautiously at first, but gradually opening up.
"Do you… ever think about before?" Jamal asked at one point, kicking a loose pebble. "Before the vanishings, before everything?"
"All the time," Isabelle said quietly. "Every day. But thinking doesn't bring them back. And it doesn't… help me figure out what I'm supposed to do now."
He nodded. "I feel the same. People see us as… tools. As… survival machines. But we're more than that. Don't you think?"
She looked at him, surprised by the depth in his words. "Yes," she admitted. "More than that."
As time passed they spent their time together even more.Isabelle had never imagined that following rules and survival protocols could feel like an adventure. When she woke that morning, something felt different. A strange flutter in her chest. She walked past her mirror, hesitating. For the first time since everything had vanished, she paused over the small makeup kit she usually ignored.
"I… maybe I'll just… do something small," she muttered to herself, her fingers hovering over the compact. A soft brush of powder, a hint of color on her lips, just enough to feel… human. She carefully brushed her hair until it fell softly over her shoulders, letting the light catch the subtle waves. She chose a dress, something elegant but understated, soft blue that contrasted beautifully with her eyes. Her reflection made her smile nervously. Why do I care about this? He's just a man, the rules say nothing more.
When she arrived at the designated meeting area, Jamal was already there. He stood awkwardly near the edge of the garden square, hands in his pockets, glancing around as if making sure no one would judge him. He wore a simple white shirt and dark jeans, nothing fancy. But the sight of him made Isabelle's heart skip.
"You look… different," he said, voice uncertain but warm, when he saw her.
"I… I thought I'd dress up," she admitted, slightly embarrassed. "It's a date. I thought maybe… we should try."
Jamal's face lit with a soft smile. "You look amazing," he said simply. "Really."
She felt a blush creep across her cheeks. Did he just say amazing? At me? "Thanks," she whispered, glancing down at her dress.
They started walking together, side by side, in a part of the city that had been preserved as a garden district. The air smelled of blooming flowers, a faint sweetness mingling with the clean scent of water from fountains. Isabelle tried to focus on the surroundings, but she kept stealing glances at Jamal. His hair was slightly messy, his posture a bit slouched, but in a strange way, it made him… real. Human. Alive.
"So," he said, breaking the silence, "how have you been surviving all this? Really?"
Isabelle hesitated. "Some days are easier than others. The city is beautiful now, orderly, perfect… but it doesn't fill the emptiness. I miss… my husband, my son… everything before." She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "And you?"
He paused, then exhaled slowly. "I've been… trying. I was lucky to survive, but everyone I knew is gone. Family, friends… everything. Most days I just keep moving, hoping that… that maybe I'll find someone to make it worth it."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, words were unnecessary. The weight of loss, of survival, and the strange new rules hung between them.
"You know," Isabelle said softly, "I wasn't… I wasn't going to care about this date. I wasn't going to… think about you at all." She looked down at her hands. "But I… I can't stop."
Jamal tilted his head, expression gentle. "I noticed," he said quietly. "I feel the same way. I didn't expect… this either."
They walked further, talking about trivial things to lighten the tension favorite books, foods, music but even in the small talk, their connection deepened. Isabelle noticed the way he listened, really listened, as if her words were precious. His attention made her heart flutter, made her forget for brief moments the city's rules and the survival pressures.
As twilight fell, they found themselves seated on a low stone bench near a fountain. The water sparkled in the fading light, casting reflections across Isabelle's dress. Her soft blue gown caught the gentle glow, and Jamal's eyes widened slightly.
"You look… really beautiful," he said quietly, almost in awe.
Isabelle's breath hitched. "I… I just tried," she murmured. "I didn't know if… you'd even notice."
He reached out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I notice," he whispered. His fingers lingered, and the warmth made her shiver.
Her heart pounded. Every logical part of her mind screamed caution, reminded her of the rules, reminded her of the survivalist mindset. And yet, here he was. Here she was. And for the first time, she felt something that felt like… hope.
"Jamal…" she began, voice trembling, "I..."
He leaned closer, his forehead resting briefly against hers. "I know," he said softly. "I feel it too."
Time seemed to slow. She could feel his breath, the subtle warmth of his skin, the way his hand rested lightly against hers. Isabelle closed her eyes, letting the fear, the logic, and the chaos fall away. And then, softly, almost hesitantly, their lips met.
The kiss was brief at first, testing the waters, but it carried the weight of weeks of unspoken emotions, shared fears, and tentative hope. Isabelle felt her body relax, her heart opening, a strange joy coursing through her.
Pulling back slightly, she rested her forehead against his, breathless. "I… I didn't think… I could feel this way again," she admitted.
Jamal smiled, quiet and reassuring. "Neither did I. But here we are."
She looked down at her dress, at the fading twilight around them, and realized something she hadn't before. Survival wasn't just about rules or biology. It was about connection, about letting herself feel despite the chaos. About opening her heart even in a broken world.
Later, in the quiet of her room, Isabelle sat by the window, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea she had forgotten to drink. Her heart still raced from the kiss. The city lights glimmered outside, but she barely noticed.
She thought of Richard and her son, of the world she had lost. And yet, she thought of Jamal, of the warmth in his eyes, the gentle touch of his hand. Maybe this is the future. Maybe this… is survival in a new way. Maybe it doesn't have to be just rules and biology. Maybe it can be… something more.
Her reflection stared back at her, soft blue dress crumpled slightly from the bench, makeup still lightly applied. She allowed herself a small smile. The world had been harsh, cruel, and unpredictable, but for the first time in a long time, Isabelle felt a fragile spark of hope. A spark that perhaps humanity, love, and beauty could endure even in the strangest, most impossible circumstances.
Isabelle had never expected the day to feel so heavy with anticipation. She had woken early, sunlight filtering through her apartment blinds, casting thin strips of warmth across the floor. Usually, she dressed simply for errands or for the daily patrols of the city, but today was different. She found herself staring at her reflection longer than usual, wondering if this small act—choosing a dress, brushing her hair, softening the lines of her face with powder was foolish.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered, tracing her jawline in the mirror. "It's just a… a date. And yet… I feel like a schoolgirl again."
Her hands hovered over her makeup, picking up a delicate compact she hadn't used in weeks. A hint of blush on her cheeks, a soft sweep of eyeliner, and a light coat of gloss on her lips. Simple, elegant. Not for vanity, but because… she realized that for Jamal, she wanted to feel presentable. To matter.
She settled on a soft blue dress, flowing but modest, reaching just past her knees. The color brought out her eyes, and she found herself studying the reflection for the hundredth time. A nervous energy danced through her chest as she picked up her small purse.
When she arrived at the garden square, Jamal was already there. She spotted him immediately, standing slightly apart from the cluster of women and guards who had gathered for the sanctioned date meetups. He was unmistakably aware of the attention, adjusting his posture, shoulders slightly hunched, hands in his pockets. He wasn't tall or striking in the classical sense, but he radiated… something. Human, real, cautious yet patient.
"Isabelle?" His voice, soft but confident, carried across the distance.
She felt her stomach flutter. "Jamal," she replied, and for a moment, words failed her. He gave a small smile, awkward but genuine, and she realized she had almost missed it in her nervousness.
"You… you look… nice," he said slowly, his eyes flicking down to the soft folds of her dress and back to her face.
Isabelle felt her face heat. "I… I thought I'd dress up. It's… a date. I thought maybe…" Her voice faltered, embarrassed by the admission.
He chuckled, a small, unassuming sound that made her heart lift. "You look beautiful. Really. You don't have to try."
She wanted to deny the fluttering in her chest but couldn't. Instead, she smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks," she whispered.
They walked side by side, their steps synchronized almost unconsciously. Isabelle noticed everything the soft rustle of her dress, the way Jamal's shoes scuffed lightly against the stone, the small glances he cast her way when he thought she wasn't looking.
"So… do you always come to the garden?" she asked, attempting casual conversation, though her heart raced in ways she couldn't control.
He shook his head. "No. I… I like to come here sometimes when I need quiet. It's… calm. Helps me think."
She nodded. "I understand. I like the quiet too. I like to feel… normal, even if just for a moment."
"Normal," he repeated, as if savoring the word. "What does that even mean anymore?"
Isabelle laughed softly, a little bitterly. "I don't know. Maybe it's sitting here, walking, talking to someone who… doesn't judge you for your past, for your losses."
He glanced at her, eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her stomach knot. "I think… I can try not to judge you."
She wanted to roll her eyes at the simplicity of the statement, yet her heart skipped. "Good. I think I need that. More than I thought."
One day when they were together They paused near a fountain, the water glittering as the sun dipped behind the buildings. Jamal's attention seemed drawn to her in ways she didn't understand. He didn't just see her, he looked at her.
"You have a beautiful voice," he said suddenly.
"Voice?" she asked, startled.
"Yes," he replied, shrugging. "When you laugh, when you speak. It's… honest. Human."
Isabelle's breath caught. She wasn't used to compliments that weren't veiled in societal expectation or obligation. Her face warmed. "I… thank you. That's… kind."
He smiled softly, stepping a little closer. "I mean it. You don't have to try to be… perfect. You just… are."
The words struck her like a warm wind through a window. She realized how starved she was for normal human connection, for someone who didn't view her as a survival tool or a rule to follow. Her chest ached in a strange, sweet way.
Jamal hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand. "May I?"
She blinked, surprised. "May you what?"
"Hold your hand," he said softly, eyes locking with hers. "I… don't want to overstep, but I think… it would be nice."
Her fingers brushed his, and a small shock of warmth ran through her. She nodded, tentative. His hand closed over hers, firm but gentle. They walked like that for a few steps, their hands lightly intertwined. Isabelle's mind raced. Is this allowed? Is this… real?
She looked up at him, searching his expression. "I… didn't think I'd… feel this way," she admitted quietly.
"Neither did I," he whispered. "But maybe… we're allowed to."
Her heart lifted at his words. Allowed. Permission. Even in a world of rules, here was a space where something human and tender could exist
As the sky turned shades of pink and orange, they arrived at a quieter corner of the garden. Isabelle's fingers twined with his, their steps slowing to match each other's rhythm.
"Isabelle," Jamal said, his voice low, intimate. "I… I like you. More than I should. Maybe more than I can explain."
Her breath caught. "I… I feel the same. But… it's complicated. The world, the rules…"
He shook his head gently. "Forget the rules for a moment. Just… feel this. Me. You."
Her heart raced uncontrollably. She looked at his face, noting the gentle curve of his lips, the warm, dark hue of his eyes, the way he waited for her, not demanding, just… hoping.
Without thinking, she leaned closer. He mirrored her movement, and their lips met.
The kiss was tentative at first, a soft exploration, a question asked in silence. Isabelle's hands rested lightly on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Jamal's hands cradled her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks. The world around them fell away. No rules, no vanished loved ones, no council mandates. Just two humans discovering a fragile, forbidden connection in a broken world.
The kiss deepened, slow and careful, as if they were memorizing each other's existence. Isabelle felt a rush of warmth, a shiver that traveled down her spine. Her mind spun with memories of Richard and her son, the void their absence had left, and yet… here was something new. Something tentative, beautiful, alive.
They pulled back slightly, foreheads resting together, breathing in sync.
"I… I didn't know this could feel like this again," Isabelle whispered, voice trembling.
Jamal smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Neither did I. But it does. And it's… enough, for now."
She nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "Enough," she echoed, letting herself savor the moment.
Later that night, Isabelle sat by the window, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea, the taste forgotten. She traced the rim absently, thinking of Jamal. His touch, his voice, his presence lingered in her mind, more vivid than the memories of anyone she had lost.
She stared at her reflection, the soft blue dress still hanging from her chair, her cheeks tinged with the blush from their kiss. She realized the world had changed irreversibly, that she had survived unimaginable loss, and yet… she could still feel. She could still hope.
Maybe this is the way forward, she thought. Not just survival, not just rules, but connection. Trust. Love, even if unexpected, even if imperfect.
For the first time in months, Isabelle allowed herself a small, genuine smile. The city outside was still harsh and broken, but in that quiet room, she felt alive. She felt human. And she felt… ready.