Altered Genesis Ch. 22

"How wonderful to see you again honey," the imposing old lady announced warmly.

Dean looked around nervously, hoping that her voice wouldn't attract unwanted attention.

Doctor Proudcoven was more than a head taller than him in her platform heels and her white hair was bound in a single plat that ran down her back, almost touching her enormous backside. Her obese frame made Dean feel small, powerless and repulsed all at once. Next to her, he felt like the stereotypical gold digger and hoped that nobody would recognize him.

Her shape was intimidating and distinctly feminine. Dean knew that it was common for ladies to exaggerate their own feminine endowments with extra padding in the hips and bust of a dress. Despite their size, her breasts could not hide her large belly. And her hips appeared more than twice the width of Dean's fashionably lean frame.

He was accustomed to ladies being larger than him but Dr Proudcoven bested him in every dimension by a significant margin. He never understood the fascination that femme had with appearing tall and wide, and had always found lean femme to be much more attractive. But in the femme professional world, a large imposing frame conveyed dominance and success. It showed that she rejected old-fashioned expectations of feminine beauty. A powerful lady like her felt no need to cater to masculine preferences. She was above that; above them.

Dean's mind was racing through every possible scenario, imagining how he could defend himself if she attacked him. He knew that he probably couldn't overpower her, but his superior athleticism would allow him to easily get away from her if he had to.

She placed her hand half on his back and half on his buttock causing him to jump slightly before restraining himself. A mixture of emotions came flooding back as he let the sixty-something lady hold his flesh possessively for all to see. In an instant, he felt powerless, violated, repulsed, but somehow secure. Underneath the fear and disgust, Dean missed the simple easy life as one of lady Lockwood's 'Play Puppies'.

With his arms folded in front of himself, he stepped away slightly only for her to move subtly after him. He wondered what the ladies behind them thought about him, he looked like a gold digger preying on a lonely old lady. And no casual observer would assume that she was interested in him for intelligent conversation.

As they approached the front of the queue they stood next to a black poster with three boys wearing pink g-strings and pink body-paint saying the words'Queen voters only'. Bold pink text at the top read'Femme rights are sexy again'. The restaurant had posted it proudly on their street-facing façade.

Dean looked away and pretended that he didn't see it. He reminded himself why he was here.

"Just enough to get those social credit points and for her to pay for the surgery. No more, no less," he thought.

Once at the front of the line, the young host boy took a long couple of moments to check the reservations on the pad. It wasn't clear to Dean if he was new to the job or if he was just a bit slow.

"Okay, this way," he announced with an inviting hand.

"First job out of school sweet heart?" Doctor Proudcoven leaned in and gave his bicep a squeeze. It was much bigger than Dean's; much closer to the ideal size in the eyes of most femme. Her eyes lingered on the masculine veins in his forearms.

The waiter nodded with an embarrassed smile.

Dean wished that he could spend more time in the gym, but only seemed to be working longer and longer hours every year.

"Not to worry, with looks like yours I'm sure that you will do fine," she chuckled.

The waiter reciprocated with an artificial laugh that Doctor Proudcoven appeared to interpret as genuine. That kept a confident smile painted on her face.

Dean could see her eyes follow his muscular butt as he led them through the restaurant. His shorts were skin tight and barely covered his ideal young flesh. As they moved toward the back of the restaurant, several ladies turned their heads to follow the host.

Looking around, Dean immediately noticed that the place was filled with wealthy older ladies. He caught several of them staring at him also. Every table had at least one lady above the age of 40. In today's world only older femme could afford such opulence. Since the genetic improvements, older people just weren't retiring. This made it difficult for the next generation to move up the ladder.

The lighting was low and golden in the back corner of the restaurant. Dean was surprised to see several couples of old ladies and young males sitting together in small tables made for two. They were made of dark intricately carved wood.

"Welcome to the lovers lounge. A more intimate setting, perfect for your romantic evening," the waiter announced.

Dean wanted to run and hide.

"But where not-" Dean was interrupted by the louder voice of Doctor Proudcoven.

"Oh perfect!" she said, "Thanks hunn."

The waiter pulled out a chair for her and she gladly sat down.

"Oh what a well behaved boy you are. I wish I could get help like you at home."

The boy forced a chuckle before walking away.

Dean found refuge in the menus that lay before him as soon as he sat down. He picked one of them up before reading that it was for beverages.

"Keen for a drink I see!" she said before clicking her fingers for the host boy to return.

"Hey honey, be a doll and fetch us a bottle of your 85 Merlot Premium Grade."

Dean shot up in his seat in response to her presumptuous order but the waiter nodded and was gone before he could gather his thoughts to insist against it.

He was sure that she wanted to get him drunk and take advantage of him. His stomach churned at the thought of the fat old hag having her way with him. He swallowed hard and tried to distract himself with the mains menu.

"You look very handsome this evening," she smiled, "Those ladies over there were all looking at your butt you know. They're all jealous of me. But only I understand how hard you had to work for it," She added with a slightly raised chin and a sideways look to the table opposite.

He didn't know how to respond. He felt small and powerless, yet oddly affirmed. He forced his mind from uncomfortable thoughts and turned his attention back to the menu.

He was genuinely shocked at the price tag on some of the menu items. Dr Proudcoven was apparently wealthier than he initially realized. Normally he would be impressed but he knew that it didn't matter, he knew that she was a manipulative and evil lady who would take advantage of her position of power over him any chance she got.

Dean's cock began to stir slightly. He shifted in his seat and rearranged his underwear to accommodate. He felt repulsed by her and despised himself for reacting with mindless submission.

"What kind of a boy would react like this to such an ugly, old and arrogant Lady!" he silently berated himself.

She stopped a waiter and ordered two entrées from him. Her eyes followed the server as he made his way back to the kitchen then fixed on Dean. He looked out the window to observe twilight taking hold as the sun was replace by the street lights. He could feel her arrogantly staring into him as he tried to distract himself from the thought that she knew every part of him; even more than he did.

"So tell me some more about yourself, Dean Johnson. How is the feminine entertainment business treating you?" she wasted no time probing him.

"Well, I'm not in that field anymore. I work in advertising at Aphrodite campaigns," he did his best to hide his anger towards her incredulous question.

"I'm sure that all of the Ladies appreciate having you as their receptionist," her eyes wandered down to his tight-fitting shirt that revealed his firm and youthful pectoral muscles.

Dean opened his mouth to correct her but remembered that everything she said was accurate. He had recently been moved back to reception, so all he could do was grimace slightly.

"Is it a busy job? It must be challenging for a boy to keep up with such a competitive industry. Organizing entertainment and catering, answering the phone for some very important ladies. It must be a real challenge for you," she said in a congratulatory tone.

"Well, I worked really hard through college and after graduation," he added flatly.

"I... I bet."

A lightning fast smirk broke free from her mouth, sending wrinkles across her leathery face. It appeared as though she was about to make a joke but forced herself to stifle it.

The waiter returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses and began to pour it for them. He was closer to Dean but walked over to Dr Proudcoven to pour hers first.

"Would you like to order?" he placed the bottle back on the table and looked at her as he spoke.

"No thank you, we will finish our entrées first. Once this bottle is empty we will order, don't disturb us before then," she commanded confidently with a manicured index finger.

"Certainly my lady," he replied with a timid bow and moved on without so much as a glance towards Dean.

He began to eat his entrée first so that he could dilute the wine.

"So, how are you finding the practice you work at?" Dean cringed when he heard himself utter such a boringly awkward question.

Her eyes lit up, "Good, not like back in Germany. I was trained over there before the fall. They were decades ahead of us in phalicological research! Fortunately I got a job over here before things fell apart."

Dean nodded solemnly, unsure if he should be empathetic. But she kept on talking like it was nothing.

"Did you know that penis size is inversely correlated with IQ, but positively correlated with progressive political and religious values?"

"Sorry," she sighed, "I mean.. boys with bigger cocks are dumber and more likely to follow Dibella and vote Femme Lib. It really goes to show the negative effects of rigid logical male thinking."

Rage almost bubbled to the surface, but he reminded himself that the entire date was a test. He just had to play the part.

"Wow," Dean feigned interest but was furious inside. He stared at the menu and reminded himself of the goal; getting that damn piercing removed, and getting his social credit score back in the green. A contentious conversation was the last thing he wanted.

"Yeah. American scientists are only just discovering this now. But it's been in the German literature for decades! "

"Interesting," he said.

Dean could tell that she was putting on a brave face, they both knew that Europe had descended into chaos. Very little news ever made it out, but from what he had gathered, many millions had died from starvation and violence since the collapse of the entire continent. He immediately regretted his question when he saw the suppressed pain in her eyes.

"I have been pleasantly surprised by how things have progressed here. It's no longer such a regressive patriarchy, but a living democracy that is changing to meet the future. Now America leads the world culturally."

She sounded like someone from a political infomercial; Dean found this disconcerting.

He was also concerned to see that she wasn't eating or drinking yet. He had already finished his starter and was ready to get on to the bottle of wine so that he could avoid uncomfortable conversation. He tried to move things along and raised his glass for a toast.

"To a happy evening," he forged a smile.

"To a magical evening," she countered as she tapped glasses and they gave off a high-pitched note together.

Dean drank a mouthful, then two, then a third. It was stronger than expected and it caused him to grimace. He looked to Dr Proudcoven to find that she had only taken a tiny sip to wet her wrinkled lips. She gazed back at him with predatory desire but he could not meet her eyes.

She knew his most intimate parts, parts that had fully surrendered to her despite his opposite will. Her confidence came off as entitlement to him, and he certainty didn't find her attractive.

Never the less, somewhere deep down inside himself, all that mattered was the fact that she had power over him. Her eyes were filled with a desire that wanted to reproduce itself within him, changing him into something else, something that would fulfil all of her selfish desires. He had been down that road before, and some deep part of himself was still down there, beckoning him to surrender.

Dean's chest felt tight and his heart began to pump harder. He wanted to run, go home and never speak to her again, but he steeled himself.

Looking around, it occurred to Dean that Dr Proudcoven shouldn't be able to afford such a lavish restaurant for their date. At least not on the salary of a phalicologist. A profession like that was very popular amongst femme, resulting in an oversupply of qualified phalicologists that drove salaries down.

Either there was something that she wasn't telling him or she was investing in him more than he realised.

Much to his relief, she finally began to eat her starter.

They began to speak some more about the differences between American culture and the culture of Europe before the crash. This was much more comfortable for Dean. In that time, he had almost completely finished his glass of wine.

Dr Proudcoven picked up the half empty bottle of merlot and topped up his glass. Her glass was still three quarters full and Dean was already beginning to feel a little lightheaded as he watched the burgundy liquid swirl and settle in the glass.

Fear of losing control continued to build inside of him but he expressed his thanks as a gentleman should.

She manoeuvred the conversation towards his family. Dean explained how he never knew his dad.

"Well, you had your mother growing up, that's the main thing. Tell me about her," she probed.

Dean was beginning to feel relaxed and answered her question without thinking, "Well, she is very religious."

"Oh really?! That's becoming more common these days," her genuine surprise was expressed by her raised eyebrows.

"So she's a sister?"

Dean paused for a moment desperately thinking of a way to deflect the conversation elsewhere.

He nodded reluctantly.

"Oh really!?" she was surprised once more.

Her eyes came alive and a joyful smile spread across her face.

Dean could see her mind ticking over. Wondering how a daughter of Dibella could allow her son to fall into such a demeaning career as a porn star. Wondering if he still harboured a desire to worship and submit to all things feminine. Wondering if his performances were more than merely an act.

"I am also a Noblefemme! And I'm now about to officially be ordained a witch of the temple and start studying to be a Gynarch one day! I would love to meet your mother!" she beamed.

"Oh, she... we don't talk anymore," he said soberly.

"Oh Goddess, I see. I'm so sorry," she leaned forward to hold Dean's hand with both of hers.

Dean could see that she was less than surprised to hear that he didn't have a relationship with her.

"What lady in her right mind would not disown such a whore," he thought to himself.

"Maybe one day you will see each other again. Given the right circumstances, a mother can be more forgiving than any male can understand," she soothed him.

Dean frowned. He knew which scripture in the Dibellan sacred text she was subtly referencing. He didn't believe a word of what she was saying but he forced himself to give a hopeful nod and a fake smile.

He wanted to stop drinking but taking another sip of his wine was the only way that he could distract himself. Then another larger sip. Talking about his mother only reminded him of the lack of feminine affection in his life. It felt like a giant hole in his heart opening up and Dr Proudcoven was peering into it. She knew everything about his body, now his heart was being vulnerably laid bare.

She leaned back in her chair for a moment and smiled comfortably.

Dean felt tense. This was the last thing that he wanted to talk about and he wasn't willing to wait for her to finish the wine. He took another big gulp and reminded himself of Riya Patel. His boss was the only femme that showed him love and respect, she was wealthy and had plenty to offer. He had never appreciated her more than in this moment. She was not an attractive lady but still much better looking than Dr Proudcoven. Most of all she offered him something that was most important. Respect.

He reminded himself that Riya would never manipulate him like this. She was his best hope for freedom and happiness; that was becoming clearer to him by the day.

"I've seen plans for the new Dibellan temple in Gynohale, it's just gorgeous. It's going to be just around the corner from the current one and will be the biggest in the world. And the artwork will be breathtaking; The atrium will have a mural of the eternal ladder of being standing twenty meters high!" her eyes wide with childlike excitement.

"The congregation is growing too fast to keep up! With so many sisters joining there is huge demand for Witches and Gynarchs to minister," she beamed.

Thoughts of his youth came back to him. How he had swallowed the sexist teachings of the church of Dibella in his childhood, only to realise their bigotry in his teenage years. Dean felt rage building inside of himself.

"So you said that you are a Noblefemme. You think that you are superior to me?" He straightened himself defiantly as he spoke.

She stared him in the eye, "I know I am."

"Well I think it's immoral. You don't have the right to own another person and attempt to justify it by claiming that its part of your identity. What about the identity of the male? Don't his rights matter?" he protested.

The wine was clearly loosening his tongue and he felt another wave of lightheadedness. He felt like an observer, witnessing his own rage take over. That observer knew that he was in trouble, he knew that he couldn't afford to antagonize her.

She shifted to a slightly aggressive tone, "A typical male-rights argument. Always from the male perspective, never considering others. Your disagreement only comes from a place of selfishness and pride, not love. You are speaking from the fallen masculine state that cares only for the ego, with no regard for the natural order of things. But the Goddess is reasserting her natural order on the world."

She shook her head.

"My silly boy. For your sake, I hope that you will repent before the time comes. But I know that there is still a good boy inside of you. I've seen you serve Dibella with humble selflessness before. I still enjoy your body of work you know. But you have strayed and will be damned for all eternity if you continue down this path. But it's still not too late to be saved from that Dean."

She reached out to place a compassionate hand on his but he pulled away and placed it in his lap.

"These are all crazy delusions. Don't you know how irrational you sound!? I know that you don't actually care about me," he snapped.

"Ha", she scoffed, "Masculine rationality is an inferior mode of thought. Feminine intuition is much more enlightened and sophisticated. Here you are, a primitive male, thinking that we are having a debate. There is no debate, no discussion. How can I discuss the color pink with a blind lady? In the same way, I can't debate these deep truths with a boy because boys are spiritually blind. The Goddess intended for blind boys to be led by her faithful daughters."

Dean took another sip of his wine and looked away with a cold stare. All thoughts of his objectives had been washed away.

"I am just trying to guide you back down the path of truth. Every day, more and more males are finding truth through a spirit of obedience."

She pulled out her phone and opened an application with a red logo that read, SubHub. Then the screen filled with scantily-clad young males and Dean immediately looked away.

"Look at all of these impressive profiles. This exclusive dating app is only for valued members of the Dibellan temple. As you can see, there are plenty of firm young males who would love to give themselves to a proud noblefemme. Especially a wealthy witch of the temple such as myself. These boys understand the way that the world is moving. They are wise enough to understand that the end of male power is at hand. And they admire a lady who can show them their new place in the coming matriarchy."

She confidently wet her lips with the red wine, "See, I'm really just here out of the goodness of my heart. Showing you the way."

"What way!?" Dean sneered bitterly, "Dibellan marriage is illegal."

"Rubbish. We have several wedlock rituals every week in Gynohale. It just isn't legally acknowledged by the government. That is pure sexism! As a boy you are privileged, and only know what it is like for your identity to be supported by society, but my identity is erased by society. When I am finally recognized, myself and many of my sisters will take rightful legal ownership of the males in our lives."

Dean looked down at the burgundy liquid as it swirled in his glass.

"Only a poor, vulnerable and desperate boy would choose to forfeit his legal rights of personhood to become chattel. You are just exploiting them so that you can maintain your delusion of superiority."

"Nobody forces these boys to join this app, or to enter into Dibellan wedlock," she smiled confidently.

"They're just honest young males looking for a better life than their father's. Dibellan wedlock can give them a path out of poverty and the dowry can help their families. I'm much more inclined to help them if it means full legal ownership. It acknowledges my identity and provides security in the relationship. It's a win-win."

She shot back with an arrogant smirk, "I know that the boys secretly love it too. I watched your appearance in Holy husbands again just last night. You seemed to enjoy being led around on a leash. That certainly made you very submissive and hard."

Dean swallowed hard.

"That's because deep down you understand that you need my protection and approval to reach the next life."

She smiled at Dean but all he could do was look away. He had a million thoughts swirling around his head but nothing rose to the surface.

He was holding the glass in his hand, deciding if he would take another sip. He gave in and took another.

Twenty minutes later, Dean and Dr Proudcoven polished off the last of the merlot together. He had finished three glasses and she had barely completed one. When the waiter finally came over, Dean was looking at the menu and was about to order a steak when Dr Proudcoven announced her commandments once again.

"I'll have the T-bone steak and my handsome boy over here will have a salmon salad, he likes to stay in nice shape for me," Dean felt her bare foot make contact with his smooth hairless leg as she spoke.

Between the shock of what she said and what she was secretly doing under the table, Dean didn't know how to respond and his eyes simply bulged for a moment as he froze.

"Of course, my Lady. As he should," the waiter replied.

"Ooh haha. Aren't you just a delightful boy!" she responded with a hand to the waiter's forearm.

"Yes. I've trained my boy well," she said loudly.

A group of ladies at a table opposite all turned their heads in an involuntary response to the salacious remark.

Dean was too distracted by Dr Proudcoven's secret advance under the table to pay any attention to her words. The ball of her bare foot was rough and it scratched his smoothly waxed skin slightly. It glided up his calf muscle through his skin-tight trousers. Under the guise of the tablecloth, her chubby foot was claiming him as hers but he sat quietly in demure paralysis.

Dean looked around for a second and noticed that for each table for two, the long table cloth was strategically placed so that it fell to the floor at the ends. Her advance was completely hidden from anyone's view.

"Um, please, doctor. Not here," he said quietly with his eyes on to the table.

He hoped that the words "Not here", would give her enough hope that it could happen somewhere else. That way she may have been more inclined to back off. But her foot continued to glide up the inside of his knee, she wanted to get her money's worth from the evening. Dean knew it and she knew it but neither of them would say it.

Dean felt naked and trapped all over again and his penis was beginning to inflate rapidly. His head spun as if all the blood was draining down his neck and into his cock. Her hungry gaze filled him with disgust and he could not meet it.

"I just want to check something," she smirked then breathed heavily through an open mouth.

Dean's eyes went wide and he shuffled his chair backwards to evade her reach. Two abrupt screeches drew the attention of surrounding patrons.

"Now that's not very gentlemanly is it my boy. A good boy lets a lady have her fun," she protested softly.

"I can only assume that you are nice and hard under there. Why else would you be so afraid?! Typical male-rights boys, the talk is soft but the cock is secretly hard," she looked through his eyes and into his vulnerable heart.

Dean's cock throbbed as if shouting his submission from the rooftops. He felt defeated. Humiliated.

The wrinkled face of a lady 40 years his senior smiled at him arrogantly. Her mask slipped and hunger filled her eyes. She needed him more than anything.

"You've been feeling very horny lately haven't you sweetie," she stared at him with half closed eyes.

Dean felt fear penetrate him like a knife.

"How does she know that!?" he thought.

Dean swallowed hard and looked down at the table cloth.

"Yes" she continued, "We both know it."

"It's the will of the Goddess. She is drawing us together. She has given you to me as a reward for my faithfulness," she added.

"WHAT!?" Dean shouted in his head. "This hag is completely insane!"

"Your cock understands this better than you do. It knows its proper place," she added.

Dean was too busy thinking of a way to escape to participate in the conversation. He couldn't bear another moment of this insanity.

Dr Proudcoven wet her lips with the merlot and licked them. She had lost count of the number of times that she had orgasmed while watching Dean spurt and jiggle for her in her VR goggles. There was something that she found hypnotic about him; was it the look on his face as he gets milked without orgasm?

She didn't want him as her second husband, with her new status as a witch of the temple and the success of her side hustle, she knew that she could afford a virgin. Dean was a special conquest rather than marriage material.

She also wondered if it had shot off since then, or if Dean had obeyed her instructions and avoided the sin of the male orgasm.

In his nervousness, Dean had finished the last of his wine without even noticing. He ate his salad as quickly as he could, still with his chair awkwardly positioned out of her reach. He hoped that people couldn't see what was going on.

"I hope that you have done as you were told. Orgasm is a serious sin for a boy. All orgasms must be controlled by femme. Femme are the gatekeepers of sexuality; the gatekeepers of all things. The dominant gender must lead in all aspects of life," she lectured.

Dean placed his knife and fork together on the plate then pushed it forward. The room felt like it was spinning and he just wanted to get out of there. All he could do was nod vacantly.

She took another bite from her juicy steak. She was eating more quickly now that she had him where she wanted him. Dean was weakening. In that moment, part of him wanted to give up, to surrender to her every whim forever. That made him hate himself.

"Umm... eerr excuse me.. I need to use the bathroom."

He got up and walked to the boy's room with his hands awkwardly clasped in front of his pants in an effort to subtly obscure his erect bulge.

As he walked away, he could feel Dr Proudcoven arrogantly smirking at him.

Once in the bathroom, he took a few moments to catch his breath and stare at himself in the mirror.

"Get it together!" he said.

Dean's balls protested against his resolve, desperate for the type of release that only Dr Proudcoven could give him.

His mind flashed back to dark memories. He was tied to the exam chair and longing for her touch on his cock. His masculine essence was painfully shooting into the air one humiliating spurt at a time.

He wanted to vomit, she was evil, but she was also buried inside his head in ways he still couldn't explain. He knew that he was losing control of himself.

The small tiled room shifted clockwise then anti-clockwise as if it was sitting on an antique record player rotating off axis.

He couldn't do it. Nothing was worth losing himself all over again. He decided that the night was over. Even if she was going to pay for the procedure and give him the social credit, he couldn't follow through and give this old witch what she wanted.

After ten minutes, his resolve was renewed and his erection had subsided. He returned to the dining room. Before he had finished sitting down Dr Proudcoven spoke up, "I already took care of the check and got you a water. It seems as though you could use it." she said with a sympathetic smile.

Dean was shocked to find that she actually cared about his needs. He considered that perhaps she wasn't just trying to get him into bed after all.

He smiled his most genuine smile of the evening before drinking the entire glass of water in seconds. He didn't realise how thirsty he was until he downed the delicious minty-fresh water in seconds.

"Even the water is fancy in this place," he thought.

She let out a warm sigh of contentment as she watched him gulp the water down, "Shall we?"

She got up as she spoke, it was more like a direction than a proposal but Dean was only too happy to oblige.

She placed her right hand on his right butt cheek as they walked across the restaurant together.

"My sexy pup," she responded loud enough for several tables to hear.

Dean took the demeaning comment in his stride because his poker face was on.

He noticed several ladies look at him, then at the old hag towering over him. Her possessive hand sent a clear message that he was her boy toy, and she was having her way with him tonight. He gladly gave her the satisfaction, just a taste before they went their separate ways.

After exiting the restaurant and entering the enormous mall complex they walked only a few meters to the cab rank. It allowed for passengers to board without ever leaving the comfort of air conditioning.

Dean faked an apologetic expression.

"Oh no. I forgot that I need to work tomorrow. With election day coming up, I need to work overtime on the billboards for Femme Lib."

His lie even impressed him.

"Can we do this again tomorrow night?!" his voice was pleading this time.

The same tone that he would use when begging a lady to cum on his face. He knew that no lady could resist that. He thought that maybe, just maybe he could play hard-to-get and still get what he wants.

"Oh ok", she was totally unphased by his sudden turn.

Dean felt relieved but continued to explain himself, "Yea it's just this erection..."

"elechun"

His mouth began to fail him as his strength started to drain out of his feet.

Dr Proudcoven let out a lecherous laugh.

"Not to worry my young thing. We can get a cab together."

A taxi stopped in front of them immediately. She must have booked it while Dean was in the boy's room.

Dean began to stumble and she attempted to steady him with a hand on his butt.

"I'll give you a lift home, we aren't far from one another anyway." she directed him to the curb while clenching his butt cheek firmly.

Dean's thoughts raced as they walked towards the auto-cab, "Wait... I doubt that she lives anywhere near me. She is just lying to get me into the cab. But what choice do I have?! I can barely walk."

Dean's legs felt like jelly and he began to panic. Something was very wrong. The fear sent a dull pain shooting through the base of his cock as if it was turning to stone.

"But don't I live in the... other.." Dean's speech was soft and slowing to a stop in mid-sentence.

His mind was clear but his strength was leaving him.

"Direct.." was all that would come out.

She was supporting most of his weight by now, and he knew that he couldn't go anywhere on his own anyway.

"Oh look at you... you seem exhausted. I told you not to drink the wine so fast. Let's head home hubby," she spoke loud enough for the surrounding commuters to hear her cover story.

But she still couldn't resist clenching his firm buttock in her fingers and running her other hand across his hard abs as they approached the curb.

Dean felt himself being dragged under buffeting waves while wearing concrete shoes. He fell face first onto the backseat of the taxi before slowly lifting himself upright against the window of the opposite side with all of his effort.

She followed him into the back seat. There was already another passenger in the front seat. She must have been heading to a similar destination. She was a younger femme in her twenties who was quite attractive.

She adjusted the rear-view mirror to look at Dean, "Big night huh!" she smiled.

Dean frowned when he felt Dr Proudcoven's hands grasping his full erection through his pants. She rubbed it with purpose.

"Really big!" she laughed before assaulting him with an open-mouthed kiss and a tongue down his throat. His cock was unnaturally hard but he couldn't even sit upright.

She pulled him close.

"Are you ok honey!?" the femme in the front seat could see the panic in Dean's eyes.

He looked at her and wanted to scream for help but his mouth would not even move.

"He just had too much to drink," Dr Proudcoven snapped.

"Mind your own business. He's a good obedient boy who knows not to speak unless I give permission."

"Okay okay," the stranger responded, "I just thought he looked uncomfortable. I don't want a boy puking in here."

Dean was screaming for help in his mind. His eyes darting around frantically for an escape plan. But his body was limp, his cock was hard and he was silent.

--

Later that evening.

Stephanie wasn't sure when the others had gone home. They all thought the problem could take days to fix, but she knew she could do better. It was the middle of the night and the headquarters of Mesanet Corporation were empty. Her coffee had gone cold but she wasn't concerned; it meant that things were going well.

The massive database had seen better days. Decades of mismanagement had left it in chaos, and Stephanie was on the team of data engineers contracted to reorganize it.

Early in the project, they had deduced that the company must have employed several incompetent people across three or four departments at any given time. It was obvious to the team that some employees had no understanding of the filing system and even less of the actual meaning of various documents. As usual, Stephanie and her team came in to do what they do best - sort out the mess.

"So close to unfucking this!" she mumbled to herself.

Many files were corrupt, 50% were misplaced and at least 5% were given the wrong security classification altogether.

The Mesanet Corporation had earned a legendary reputation after their genetic inoculations had eliminated almost all causes of disease decades ago, but they had made few advancements since.

"After all those decades of their government sponsored monopoly, this is what you end up with," Stephanie thought to herself tersely. "A corrupt and bloated behemoth just riding the coat tails of former successes. It's easy to look like the hero when you get all this corporate welfare. Nobody even had a chance to compete with them."

Stephanie could feel anger rise up whenever she pondered these things. She took a deep breath to refocus herself and glanced at the filing system again.

"It's like they just hired their crazy uncle to be the systems administrator for the entire corporation. Maybe this explains the slow-down in the development of new genetic improvements," she thought.

The team's first job was to build an algorithm which could untangle their database. Her early frustration was beginning to bloom into satisfaction as the effectiveness of their sorting model was improving with each test. This was the part of her job that she enjoyed the most. All of the hard work done by the team just needed one or two tiny adjustments.

Stephanie paused and looked around for a moment. Working alone at night reminded her of her college days; she had often done her best work while everyone was sleeping. She also enjoyed the privacy that afforded her the freedom to browse the database without anyone looking over her shoulder.

The anticipation coursed through her veins like lightning. What surprised her was the lump in her throat, she was on the verge of uncovering a truth that she had sought for almost a decade but now that the big moment had arrived she almost felt too afraid to continue. If the truth was more horrible than she had imagined, then she had a plan in place. But if everything turned out to be legitimate and above-board then so much of what she believed would be challenged. That frightened her more than anything.

The Mesanet system was locked down tight, no direct internet connection, impervious to WiFi or any other signals. No electronics were allowed to pass through the scanners at the entry and exit without being completely destroyed in the process. No printers were permitted on the premises, so retrieving hard copies was out of the question. Most organizations had discontinued the use of paper decades ago anyway.

Stephanie had been perusing files randomly but hadn't seen much so far. They were mostly just experimental documentation and health & safety forms. Earlier on, she saw an interesting document regarding some of the first failed attempts at human genetic augmentation. They were not exactly a revelation but they never should have been visible to her. She assumed that some incompetent employee had failed to enter classification information in the file meta data.

Mesanet had gone to great lengths to ensure that the public understood that state-of-the-art pain relief meant that "failed test subjects" would not feel any pain, and that they were making a noble sacrifice. The documents that she found appeared to confirm that the subjects were treated well, but it was the disrespect for human free will and dignity that disgusted her most.

Her stomach felt heavy as she wondered if it was really worth it.

"What good was it for them to save so many lives if it meant reducing humans to lab rats?" she thought.

Stephanie knew that she owed much of her good health to the advancements made in these very reports. Part of her felt ashamed.

After a sober moment she refocused on the task at hand.

The problem was immense. One of the lead scientists for Mesanet had taken a week to manually sort 0.01% of the database so that they would have a training set for their model. After adjusting the code one more time, she tested the program again.

99.99% match

Stephanie clapped her hands and punched the air. She looked around the empty Mesanet office, the clock next to the water cooler read 1:15 am.

"Oh shit!" she said aloud.

She reached for her phone; for a moment she had forgotten that she was in one of the most secure buildings in the country. Her phone was still in her locker down at reception.

"I bet that Barb has been calling me, she is probably worried sick!" she thought.

Stephanie felt the temptation to run back home but knew that this might be her only chance to get the scoop on this shady global corporation. She remembered all of the conspiracy theories about Mesanet that had been circulating around on the dark web. In her gut she knew that she had to find the truth, she had to put the speculation to rest.

Every second felt precious and it was difficult to tear herself away from her work. The only reason that she was even allowed in there alone was because she tampered with the government background check. It had been a difficult task and she knew that her work could never be 100% foolproof. She was half expecting an armed swat team to burst in at any moment.

Stephanie had set up a complete copy of the database in an isolated system and ran the new sorting program. It would take at least 30 minutes to run, so she had some time to run downstairs and use her phone.

The emptiness of the building was discordant, like something from one of the 21st century post-apocalyptic movies that she loved to watch. The lights and air-conditioning were on, along with most of the computer screens. It was as if everyone was hiding in secret underground fallout shelters or a virus had suddenly killed everyone.

When Stephanie got to the lobby on the ground floor, the three-man security team and their femme security chief were a surprisingly welcome sight as she passed through the checkpoint. After walking through the scanners she turned left into the bag rooms and opened her locker with her lanyard and checked her phone to find three messages from Barbara asking her where she was. She sounded anxious in her last text.

Stephanie wrote back.

Sorry baby, I just had a big breakthrough, gonna be doing a late one tonight. They don't let me bring my phone in. Love you.

On her way back Stephanie smiled again to the security team who were surprised to see her heading back in.

"All-nighter then? I thought that we were the only ones who worked that hard," the portly security chief joked as she looked away from her screens for a moment.

"Yea well. Time is money," Stephanie rolled her eyes flippantly as she walked through the scanner, unable to tear a nervous eye from the green light on the security desk. It stayed green and she felt her shoulders relax.

Walking away, Stephanie wondered if she had been a bit conspicuous. She could get into a lot of trouble if they found out that she was specifically searching for classified documents. Upon returning to her desk, she found the program still running as expected.

After its completion, she viewed the results and navigated to the "misc" folder. This contained all documents that the algorithm had passed over without taking action. These were documents that had been given nonsensical labels due to human error so extreme that they lacked any meta data at all.

Scanning through, most filenames were alphanumeric codes but one stuck out.

ProjectCleoIR2095. doc

"Wow, you're an old one, what are you doing here?! And what the hell is project Cleo?" she mumbled to herself as she opened the document.

It read:

Project Cleo Internal Report for 2095

Final tests of subjects complete:

-99% Birth yield achieved.

-99% Disease risk minimization achieved

-Modifications to sexual dimorphism were omitted in this trial.

-Cost was 80% of budget

Summary:

Incredibly, we have all but eliminated genetic causes for disorder in this batch of offspring. With a 99% birth success from fertilized embryos, we were well within budget requirements. Next, we just need to try to achieve the desired sexual dimorphism. This is one of the greatest discoveries in history!

Stephanie's mouth hung open for a moment, "Wait. The changes to sexual dimorphism were supposed to be an unavoidable side effect of disease mitigation. But this implies that it was their primary goal! They had achieved massive health improvements before changes to sexual traits ever occurred!" she whispered to herself.

"Inside voice Steph," she thought to herself as she glanced around the empty office.

With a sickly feeling in her stomach, she scanned the empty room. Everything that she had been told about the genetic revolution was a lie. She felt vindicated and horrified in equal measure.

Her heart pounded as her eyes shot back to the list. She found a similarly misfiled report called ProjectCleoIR2099. doc:

Project Cleo Internal Report for 2099

Final tests of subjects complete:

-91% Birth yield achieved.

-50% Disease risk minimization achieved

-Modifications to sexual dimorphism were 100% successful.

-Cost: 91% of budget

Summary:

The high yield for sexual dimorphism came at large cost to embryo survivability and disorder minimization, especially for XY subjects due to the need for the reduction in stature. These results were within the desired parameters of the backers and can be considered fit for purpose.

Stephanie had always been suspicious of authority. Her friends all thought she had a little touch of paranoia; she was even beginning to think that they had a point. But these two documents confirmed all of her worst fears.

"Who were the backers?!'" she thought as she rested her head in her hands, staring at the words on the screen.

"I have to find out tonight or I might never know!" she whispered under her breath.

As she had hoped, the "misc" folder was a treasure-trove of classified material that had not been correctly restricted. The kind of iron-clad proof that she needed. She returned to the folder to search for anything else that was more recent.

BoyBeautyPackageProgressReport2190. doc

She opened it:

-Improved musculature and reduced body fat in 99% of subjects

-Average penis size increased by 70%

-Average testicle volume increased by 100%

-Sperm production increased by an average of 220%

-Rejuvenation Sperm -- 100% effective

Summary:

The new batch of boys in project Alpha have far exceeded our expectations regarding sexual enhancement. Finally, the rejuvenating sperm cells are completely effective but only when consumed by study participants with XX chromosomes who produce the required vaginal enzyme. Furthermore, the cellular rejuvenation process can only be triggered after menopause in order to avoid interference with reproductive function. Therefore, cellular repair back to a state of peak vitality is impossible with this approach, however ageing can be virtually halted once a lady has fully matured.

No impurities in regenerated DNA were found, the spermatozoa were broken down into basic building blocks which were then converted to the host's code and millions of stem cells were generated per mL consumed. A true marvel.

It's not the eternal life that we were initially looking for. The process can only begin to occur after the recipient has aged significantly (55-60 years in most cases). And even then, there is no way to ever reverse her aging process; only halt it. Provided a sufficient supply of semen from enhanced males is available, a mature age femme could potentially live indefinitely as a result of the cannibalization process.

We understand that it may not have been in the initial plan, but we hope that the modifications could be made to enable the sustenance of male subjects as well.

"Holy mother of Earth! They were looking for the key to immortality and they found it! For femme at least," Stephanie thought.

Her mind raced as the implications of this revelation slowly dawned on her. Immortality had always seemed like a new-age religious delusion to her and it was not something that she ever seriously considered possible. But now it was very real, and coming soon. The idea that such a thing could be possible terrified her.

Stephanie's excitement changed to morbid horror. She knew that this was exactly the type of document that she was looking for.

She opened her purse and pulled out a large black coffee thermos. She unscrewed the lid and pulled out a smaller, heavier cylinder with a black plastic rim. Its curved glass lens reflected the light of the city that entered the room through the window. From her pencil case, she pulled out an unassuming black plastic box. Pressing the cylinder against the box, she twisted them together to produce a hollow click.

The object appeared relatively innocuous when she entered through security and her purse was pushed through the scanner. No electromagnetic signatures, no computer chips, not even batteries. It was one of the earliest photographic devices ever invented. Large, clumsy, but completely invisible to modern security systems.

Her partner Barbara loved to collect antiques and she had been fascinated by these old contraptions for some time.

"Okay okay. Now to take a photo," Stephanie mumbled to herself.

"Umm.. Ok... so she said, that the words 'Kodak' should be facing up and the record button is on the top right," she muttered to herself frantically.

"Then wind it up."

Stephanie began to wind it up. With each pull of her thumb, the strange contraption made a series of clicking sounds as if it were calling out for help.

"And record!" she said while pressing the button with her right index finger.

Just as in practice, the strange black box let out two quick mechanical clicks; causing her heart to almost leap out of her chest. The sudden sound seemed louder than when she had practiced at home.

She scrolled to the next page and repeated. They would be the most important images that Stephanie had ever taken but she had no way to check that they had even come out right.

The government who had sponsored so much of Mesanet's work was also busy deleting and modifying all historical records on the internet, thereby allowing the most advanced security systems in the world to eventually fail to consider an attack via such primitive technology.

Stephanie grinned as she contemplated the poetic justice of it.

These days, only the most devoted antique collectors even knew that photographic film had ever been used. The information was imprinted onto one of twenty-four photosensitive chemical films without the use of electronics at all.

"Mother nature can do all of the graphical processing for me," she chuckled to herself at the ironic novelty.

Stephanie knew that she had taken six photos, meaning that 18 more remained.

The time was 3:13 AM so she only had a couple of hours left.

Firstly, she made sure to photograph all of the reports that she had just read. Then, returning to the "misc" folder, she searched for more interestingly titled reports but decided not to read, only photograph.

Time slowed as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She searched for project names that came up in emails then followed the scent from there. She photographed more reports that appeared interesting but didn't have time to read them.

Titles that she selected included:

Project Archangel

Project Genesis

Project Wildflower

Project Alpha

Test subject 3864

Glancing at the time again: 5:15 am. She didn't have much longer.

The whirring sound of an automatic door opening caused her heart to leap half way up her throat. She expected black clad males with machine guns closely followed by their feminine superiors to burst through the door.

After a moment of terror Stephanie realised that it was just her imagination.

In reality, it was a 20-something boy with a vacuum cleaner on his back; the cleaners had arrived. The boy had seen her screen but Stephanie was confident that he would have no idea what any of it was about.

"Time to clean up!" she thought.

The system was keeping track of everything that she was reading, at least for as long as those files existed. She was reading data that had been copied onto a test server, all she had to do was clean the server and pretend that she never even performed the test in the first place. A crude solution that could only ever work in an outdated and poorly run mainframe such as this.

She waited patiently for the boy to walk into the other room and turn on his vacuum cleaner. He could obviously sense that she was watching him but probably assumed that she was just checking out his butt.

"That's it, off you go buddy. No, don't worry, I'm not that way inclined," she mumbled under her breath.

She watched the boy go about his simple routine, appearing to not have a care in the world. For a moment, Stephanie envied his simple life.

She took a deep breath.

"Just keep working, you will be fine," she comforted herself.

Once the cleaner was gone, she picked up her Kodak, knowing that she only had four shots left and proceeded to record the last document. Finally, she had proof of conspiracy. Irrefutable evidence that Mesanet had been playing Goddess with everyone's genes for decades, maybe even a century.

She deleted all of the copied files that she was accessing and all history of her activity. She was in the clear.

On her way out, she messaged her project lead,

Hey Charlotte, I think that I got our baby over the line tonight, just need to test it on the real deal. Thought I would wait for the rest of the team. Going to bed now. I'm, exhausted. Let me know how the full test goes on Monday.

--

"Something's wrong. The page is black but the text is white," Melody said in a quiet voice.

Everyone appeared alien in the soft red light of the tiny room.

"It's called a negative," Barbara explained, "The final picture will look correct. Most of them are pretty good, I think that we will be able to recover just about all of the text."

Stephanie breathed a quiet sigh a relief that was noticed by everyone in the intimate setting. She glanced at Melody who still looked tense.

"Great work Steph. You took such a risk getting this. I don't think anyone else would have been able to pull this off," John gave her a pat on the back.

The praise made Stephanie uncomfortable.

"Thanks, but it was a team effort too. I couldn't have even passed the background check without your contact in the police," she said.

Even in the low light, Stephanie could see cold jealousy spread across Melody's face.

John had turned Melody down at least once in the past but it wasn't like her to give up so easily. When she found a boy that she liked, she would never let go. Stephanie admired her for her tenacity but had to pull her aside a couple of times because of how uncomfortable it made John.

"It's referring to males as a 'batch of offspring' and talking about 'birth yields'!" John said with a grimace.

"It makes my skin crawl!" he added.

Melody gave a supportive sigh, "Yeah"

She comforted him by rubbing her hand across the small of his back.

"I can upload it using my custom proxy," Rodney said in his characteristically rapid-fire cadence, "That will distance this from you."

"No," Stephanie said, "Well yes, but we need to do more than that. We need to distribute it as far and as fast as possible. We all need to use that program of yours, at the same time."

"Oh!" Rodney said with wide eyes, "That will make it much more difficult to track it to any source a-"

"And improve network penetration!" Stephanie interrupted to finish his sentence.

They smiled at one another with locked eyes. Excitement swelled in the room; for the first time the resistance had the hope of making a real difference.

"We will only get one shot at this, so we need to make it count," Stephanie said.

"Absolutely!" Melody added. "Since the censorship crackdown, people are waking up all over the country. We can put together an entire army now. Nothing can stop the truth from getting out if we rally everyone with this one strike!"

Melody was usually the cautious one, but for once she was backing a big play, and that got everyone's attention.

"We can disseminate my program to all the cells and get the truth out there in one massive synchronized upload!" John said.

"With that many sources, tracing it back to us will be next too impossible right!?" Melody added hopefully.

She didn't know much about computers but she had picked up on that much.

Rodney nodded.

Everyone looked to Stephanie silently awaiting her approval. After a pregnant pause she began to speak.

"Once this gets released, however we decide to do it, the cops will be chasing us hard. We might only get one shot so we may as well make it count. But we need to stick to people we trust and the program needs to be copy protected. Let's take our time and get this right," Stephanie said.

"Let's do this!" Melody confirmed.

--

The following is an excerpt from a document recovered by a rebel sleeper cell. It is being slowly disseminated across the cell network via offline means in preparation for a global intelligence strike.

Final Report: Project Wildflower -- September 3rd 2187

Executive summary

Extensive testing in simulated biospheres has allowed us to confidently conclude that the WF90887 is fit for purpose and will be released into the wild within the coming months. This robust plant that we have come to call "Hella fern", reproduces quickly and will live in safe equilibrium with several families of insects. It is our intention to simulate an uncontrolled, natural bloom of the weed so that the explanation of natural evolution can be accepted by the general population.

The extensively augmented strain of curare has demonstrated impressive blockage of acetylcholine, promoting depolarization of the postsynaptic membrane of motor neurons only. Further selectivity has been achieved by preventing docking in test subjects with XX chromosomes due to rapid enzyme counter activity. Additional functional groups have modified kinetics of the molecule to allow for slow breakdown of the inhibitor within all subjects regardless. These recent advances provide total assurance of non-lethality.

In essence, the nectar of this new species will cause weakness up-to and including full paralysis of male subjects proportional to exposure. This effect is temporary. Subjects under the influence will remain conscious and retain full sensation with no effects to the cardio vascular or cognitive nervous systems. Any femme that have received or inherited genetic inoculations will be totally immune to the effects due to enzyme activity. This guarantees total and permanent immunity for 95% of femme in the UN.

In concert with the complete success of the UN gun control program over the last century, no male will ever be able to challenge femme power again. Easy access to the wild plant will enable any femme to have complete physical dominance over any male when required. The refreshing minty aroma shall be synonymous with the new natural order of things.

The arrogant science of the old patriarchal age has planted the seeds of its own destruction. With the work accomplished, all record of the project will be erased and silence of scientists assured. All instruments and knowledge required to achieve the ends of the Goddess can now be safely destroyed. We have won the final victory for all femme over the male and Dibella will receive all credit for this mighty work. Without her divine guidance we never would have stayed the course and she will be praised as the new matriarchy reigns for all time.

Senior Executive of R&D -- Mesanet Corporation

Fiona Gynohearth