Retrofutura Ch. 01

Retrofutura

Chapter One: A Hypergilt Age Wedding Reception

It was the year 10,959 AD. There had been many enlightened eras and civilizations in the history of mankind. This era was not one of them. In this age, power lay in the hands of the million or so ultra wealthy elites, all the power. The power to shape the future. The power to control the present. The power to interpret the past. Thus, those in power had always been in power. It was in fact their birthright. Nobody living refuted this. Writing or other media from past eras was kept, but kept secret. Nobody spoke of those dusty old treatises or what some of them implied.

Within this powerful society controlled by and built for the elite, men were ascendant. Everyone would say rightfully ascendant. Those elite women, or perish the thought, elite men, who thought otherwise were hysterical, insane, and confined in hospitals in order to rehabilitate them. As for the hoi polloi, who cared what they thought?

Outwardly, elite women were kept like the fanciful gilded cities and baroque starliners: pristine and in every way pleasing to the eye. However, behind closed doors, they were whatever the wildest imaginations of elite men could fashion them into.

It was December 6, 10,959, the use of Earth's 12 month calendar again in vogue throughout the known universe. The wedding reception took place at Le Chateau, a fancy restaurant floating at the top of the stratosphere above Europe. It looked like a fancy flat white and gold Christmas ornament, perfect for the season. The restaurant's large oval picture windows looked out and down on Europe, dappled with cloud cover far below. The ornate ballroom, gleaming pearl with gold trim, was mostly cleared out. It had been a monumental fete with hundreds of guests. Now only two dozen guests were left, the bride and groom's immediate adult family.

The blushing bride was Missy Cachita Longrefini, a transportation heiress. She was a delicate flower standing only five feet, not looking the eighteen years she was that very day. It was why a day so late in the season had been picked for the wedding. By law, no woman below the age of eighteen years could be legally given or taken in marriage.

Missy was a late bloomer, her slim and sleek breasts and hips just beginning to fill. Her face was a sublime work of art. She had a small pert aquiline nose and wide innocent eyes. Her mouth was small enough to be dainty yet large enough for sin. Her long brown hair was pinned up in a tight bun under her veil.

Missy's wedding dress, all white lace, toyed with the eyes. One could see a hint of her dark brown nipples, erect with excitement and perhaps also in reaction to the cooling ballroom. One could see a hint of dark fur between her legs. Otherwise, her body's secrets were kept, or so she thought.

The dashing groom was Bren Von Schiffler, of the powerful Schiffler AI barons. He was six feet and stocky to proportionate, unlike many tall men. His staff of personal trainers kept him in exquisite condition. "Strong body, strong mind" was a popular saying, and indeed, his mind was also sharp. His countenance was not quite the aesthetic treasure of Missy's, but he was far from ugly. That said, good matches among elites had nothing to do with the groom's looks. Missy was merely lucky he was not an ogre.

Bren wore a fairly standard black tux and codpiece. The black codpiece was semi-translucent similar to Missy's wedding dress. It showed his clearly more than adequate assets coiled up and sleepy for now, but starting to fill, waking no doubt to the distinct potential of near future pleasure.

A small smile crept onto Missy's face. He was nice to look at. Perhaps her dreams were coming true. She had only just met Bren at the wedding ceremony. In the present age, these things were all arranged by relatives. He seemed a nice enough fellow, and he was certainly rich enough. He was over a decade older than her, a widower. His previous wife had regrettably died in an airship collision. No children had issued from that union, and it was rumored the family was desperate for some.

Missy felt slightly faint waiting with Bren for the first dance to start. He looked like he was fiddling with something in his pocket. She was nervous too, with their parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles all looking on. She had taken all those dance lessons, sure, but increasingly, over the last minute or two, she just wanted Bren to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to the bridal launch. There and then, with the AIs looking on no doubt, he should ravish her utterly. First, he would start with gentle kisses on her neck. Ooh, she was getting wet at the thought. She crossed and uncrossed her arms nervously, thereby surreptitiously stroking her erect nipples.

The music started, and Bren grabbed Missy by the shoulders and lifted her bodily off her feet, throwing her over one shoulder. She whooped with excitement. Surely this was unexpected! "To the launch?" she ventured.

"Tradition intervenes, my treasure," answered Bren. He strode over to the large circular table their four parents and eight grandparents shared. He swept her father's and his own father's places to the side, spilling the wine. Then he dropped Missy down on the table on her back. She lay gasping painfully for breath as he tore her wedding dress off her in great swaths. All that remained were her slippers, her thigh high white and gold stockings, and her nearly transparent lace panties.

Missy was transfixed with fear and humiliation. Bren grabbed her breasts in each hand, rolling her dark nipples roughly between his thumbs and fingers. "I've been thinking about these," he enthused, his voice thick with lust. She moaned with pleasure that shot through her at his rough touch. With a quick gesture, he ripped away her panties.

"What's happening??" Missy shrieked. Her father Bertrand had always sheltered her, coddled her, favored her. She only knew of the world and the law common people followed. She knew virtually nothing of the traditions and allowances made for the elite. She had never been forced to learn of the dark world that lay underneath the gilt, deco, and rococo world she inhabited.

Missy, her father's special pet, had never been offered such knowledge. Most young women of marriageable age were quietly told by their mothers or other female relatives. Her mother, looking down at her passively in this moment, had never spoken of it. Embarrassed at her own duplicity, her own mother turned her head away in this moment of her confusion and distress. Father, looking down at her sternly in this moment, had insisted on this secrecy. He had insisted his daughter remain happy and unspoiled until the very last possible moment.

Were the controls working properly, thought Bren. He felt Missy's sex, and sure enough, she was trembling with sexual excitement as well as apparent fear and surprise. He breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't embarrass his father. He pulled the cord on his codpiece. His cock sprung out hard with excitement. His new bride was so beautiful! This was going to be good!

Missy looked up at Bren, and especially his cock, with wide eyes. His intention was clear. As she considered this, Bren's father gripped her left leg tightly with a lustful grin at her. Sucking back his drool, he spread her for his son. Her own father grabbed her right thigh, pulling her legs open even wider and holding her, with a stern look, on the table and spread for her new husband. This went well beyond any fantasies of being forced she'd ever fantasized about, and she had fantasized about being forced. Her mind had not caught up to the fact that her own father and father-in-law were participating actively in her presumed public deflowering. Her father's hands were firm and insistent on her right leg. Bren's father's hands trembled with creepy voyeuristic lust on her left. And she felt into it. What the hell? And what about all those fucking tedious...? "What about all my dance lessons??" she shrieked.

The men in the room burst into raucous laughter. The wives and concubines joined the men with their own hollow mockingbird sounds of hilarity. The women knew their livelihoods and indeed their lives depended on the forbearance of their men. Therefore, they supported the men in their cruelty toward one of their own. They didn't even have to think about it. They were well-practiced.

The daughter was learning her lot in life the hard way, perhaps the hardest way. Best to rip off the bandage, many of them thought. Her father was of this philosophical school. A cruel trick, thought many others.

With no further ado, Bren pressed his substantial male member forward, surgically enhanced to a formidable eight inches and thick. Missy's little cunt was on the small side, virgin, and about as wet and excited as she'd ever been. Everything about this was doing it for her in ways she never imagined she would enjoy. Bren's dominance. Her father-in-law and her own father holding her legs apart for the deflowering. The callous demeaning laughter of the entire crowd at her apparent alarm and confusion. It had made her dripping slippery wet and her nipples hard as twin thimbles. She felt her cunt clench for a big hard cock to fill it, even though she had never felt one inside her. She didn't know what exactly she wanted physically. She felt a deep emptiness and longing. She wanted to feel what it was like to be a woman, hard and deep! She felt a grasping, wanting, deep in her core.

It's worth mentioning that when Missy had visited her gynecologist for a checkup before her impending marriage, she had been carefully drugged so it would seem to her she had drifted off momentarily during the boring procedure. While she was out, a specialized surgeon put tiny machines into her that served to stimulate her various nerves and glands. These tiny machines affected Missy's moods and inhibitions. The machines could sexually and limbically stimulate her in a variety of ways. The controller for these enhancements was sitting in Bren's pocket. He'd been fiddling with it since he'd met her. Missy's virgin vaginal cavity was now fully tented and open for use. The feeling she had inside herself was odd.

Bren had been there at the surgery, before they'd made incisions. With carefully washed hands, he'd had the opportunity to pre-approve his bride. He'd stroked her titties, pinched her nipples, and felt in her wet cunt. He probed too deep in her cunt, as it happened. He'd broken her hymen. He politely requested they put it back, and stronger.

Presently, he found they had. Bren thrust his entire length into Missy's sopping and messy slick little love box, shattering her new hymen with a satisfying gout of blood. As Bren bottomed out past her cervix, Missy orgasmed with an animal shriek. It was all her own disturbed father and father-in-law could do to hold her on the table as she convulsed under Bren in shrieking ecstasy.

Bren smiled and withdrew his bloody cock. He dabbed it with a handkerchief. He raised the handkerchief high to show the room his wife had indeed been intact and was no more. To a round of applause, he dropped it and thrust back into Missy. She shrieked in wet, delighted, undignified, snotty ecstasy and peed on him as he continued to thrust. Her body was out of control, her mind soon to follow.

"Yes! Fuck your whore!" Missy shrieked. "You paid two AI models for me!" Because indeed, his family had. "Get your money's worth from my wet cunt you fucking fuckmonger! All your fucking money's worth! Thank you for fucking ripping me open! Shoot a baby deep in my womb, you nasty fucking cunt ripper!"

Missy's relatives had no idea she even knew some of these words. Her continuing filthy tirade was so smutty, so self-demeaning, that every cock in the room got iron hard. That included the cock of her own father, still trying desperately to hold her down.

"Time to join the bride and groom in the dance?" her father asked her father in law.

The other man nodded to the father of the bride and then to his son. "All yours, son."

As the older men let go, Bren stifled Missy's current nasty tirade with a firm slap across her face, disorienting her. He choked her with one hand while continuing to relentlessly fuck her and molest her tits and her clit with his other hand. She orgasmed again helplessly but much more quietly with a pained choking whimper.

Missy saw her mother reach under her very proper dress and remove her granny panties. Mother lay back on the table next to her daughter and grabbed daughter's flailing right hand. Mother, with a knowing look towards her own mother on her right, grabbed hands as grandma too spread her loins for grandpa. Mother shut her eyes in humiliation as father grunted with the effort of driving his cock into mother's pussy. Mother was used to these obligatory rapes or what have you, so she was wet enough. Grandma, a smart one, had applied lube to her still tight and very serviceable cunt before the event.

Seeing her daughter levitating off the table with her latest grunting, squealing orgasm, she asked her husband, "Do you think we can get some of those enhancements for me?"

Missy's father blew out his cheeks as he stroked sedately in and out of her mother. "Perhaps some. I understand they're quite expensive." Unknown to the mother, he'd already bought a full set for his mistress.

"OH! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Yes! Flood my whore cunt with your hot fucking splooge! Yes! Another- ooh! Fill me like a fucking water balloon so fucking TIGHT!" Missy shrieked with delight at the ongoing sensation of Bren filling her.

An uncle of Bren's was at his shoulder. "Dibs on next?" asked the slightly older man.

Bren grunted as he continued to fill his writhing nasty new toy of a wife. "Much as I'd like to degrade her further tonight, I want her knocked up before another man touches her. She's not a slut on birth control like many of these modern brides. Sorry, uncle Bruce."

"That's okay kid," said Bruce. "I understand. I keep forgetting your first wife was barren."

The mood was instantly broken for Bren. Eschewing the steaming warm wet semen towels in the centerpiece, he laid down a larger dry towel. He rolled a disoriented Missy onto the towel and wrapped her tightly. He grabbed Missy and threw her over his shoulder. The sound from her was like a gut punch. He fiddled with the controls in his pocket so she would not cum and swear all the way to the launch, embarrassing him. He restored his manhood into his codpiece and strode out of the ballroom. She was still naked under the towel but not visibly so. She leaked gouts of bloody semen down his white jacket from her tortured cunt. It was only a short walk to the bridal launch, he reasoned.

Missy's inhibitions had been fully restored with the twist of a dial. Crowds of people, mostly minor wedding guests, stood waiting to depart, packed closely together. The way parted for Bren. Everybody knew him. Adults stared in shock at the bloody semen leaking down his jacket and Missy's dangling legs. Children barely noticed, being sheltered from such things.

Missy was mortified. All eyes were upon her, pushing through the milling crowd. What was happening? What had just happened?

Bren lay Missy down in the bridal launch like a sack of potatoes and cycled the airlock closed. Now they were alone. She complained, "You stripped me and outraged me in front of my relatives! In front of YOUR relatives!"

"It is what's done," said Bren. "Did your father complain? Did mine? Your mother? Your grandmother? It's obligatory. Believe me, I have no intention of ever mistreating you, my love. You delight me."

Missy thought about that for a minute. "Well, it doesn't seem proper," she huffed half-heartedly.

"What is proper or improper for an elite?" asked Bren. "We ARE the law." He changed the subject. "I love your potty mouth."

"I... I don't say those words!" insisted Missy, blushing and making an ick face, like she couldn't contain her revulsion at her own behavior and the mayhem that just transpired. She couldn't get the picture out of her head of her own grandmother grunting wetly and leering at her as her grandpa puffed away like an ancient workhorse between her loins. As an educated child, she knew about the birds and the bees and what might transpire quite appropriately behind closed doors. Nothing like that blatant orgy had ever crossed her mind.

"Well, I loved it," said Bren. "Your lively and extremely coarse encouragement made me the envy of every man in the room. They'll all want to fuck you when we get back from our honeymoon. Not that they didn't already because of your beauty."

"You're joking, right?" Missy ventured.

"I'm serious. It suggests a lively mind that goes with that blossoming body of yours," Bren enthused. "Let me get us underway to the starport, then perhaps you can regale me with more of your filthy commentary."

Terrifyingly, it hadn't been clear in their conversation whether Bren actually intended to allow their relatives access to her charms. By implication, he'd set a time to it, namely when they returned from their honeymoon. He could just be flattering her, saying that they'd lust after her, which of course, that was somewhat hyperbole and somewhat inevitable between men and women, relatives even. But then on the other hand, she'd just seen her own mother snarl and grunt, full of her thrusting father's cock. Her whole understanding of what was right and proper had became unstable in that moment. Or it was even before then, when with a stern look her own father held her right thigh firmly up and wide so that Bren could more easily penetrate her.

But there was that other thing that happened right before Bren grabbed her and left the ballroom. She resolved to ask him. "One more thing that horrified me, Bren. I recall your uncle approaching you and asking for a turn. Is that really done?"

"If it wasn't done, he wouldn't have asked," said Bren. "That said, you have nothing to fear. I need to be certain that any child in you is mine."

"Do you mean now or ever?" Missy gasped. "At the time you said you wished you could humiliate me more. Is that what you meant?"

"Love of my life, everything is politics," said Bren, stroking her cheek. "Your father sheltered you and coddled you, some would say spoiled you. But your life in his house has ended. You are my wife now. You have entered a new world of sophistication and intrigue beyond your wildest dreams. I am your teacher and guardian in this new world. By law and for your own good, you must obey me now, and only me. You must understand that from now on, you'll charm who I say, tempt who I say, gain the confidence of who I say, and fuck who I tell you to fuck, without hesitation or question."

"That said, I'll strive in every moment to make your life a dream come true, truly, I promise. The thought of my only cherished wife being intimate with another man fills me with anguish. But if I order you, you must obey, understand? It might mean life or death to us or ours in that moment. You are my partner in all things. We are now one body, and don't doubt that our bodies, all bodies, are currency. I will never ask you to do anything that I, were I a woman, wouldn't do myself to further our ends as a couple. Now, enough. Let me focus on the controls."

Missy wanted to ask more questions, but she also didn't want to be late for their flight to the outer colonies.

"In the meantime, you can adjust that couch behind you to your comfort," said Bren. He fiddled with the control in his pocket.

Missy felt a tingle in her loins. "What is it? A crash couch?" asked Missy. Suddenly, she felt empty. Her world had transformed in so short a time.

"No, it's a fucking couch," said Bren. "Once I have the autopilot engaged, I'll come back there and plow you, fill you with more of my baby batter."

"Y-yesss," Missy replied reflexively. She didn't recognize herself. A thrill stabbed through her, right down to her clit. She adjusted the couch so that she was leaning back, her hips up, legs spread wide. She stretched like a cat, feeling so delicious being laid out on this couch. Laid out like the two-AI whore she was for Bren's meat! He was babbling on about the trajectory, why the starport was below them. Her cunt ached to have him plow her again. She whimpered. "Hurry Bren!"

Suddenly Bren was there, thrusting into her slippery wet cunt, opening it wide with his incredible girth and width, holding her tight open for his breeding. "YES!!" Missy shrieked as she writhed in hot orgasm. Her shaking legs were held firmly up and apart by the couch, opening her utterly to Bren's excited thrusts.

Bren groaned in ecstasy as Missy's trembling hot little squeaker box wrung every conceivable pleasure from his custom engineered dick. How could he ever learn to last in this woman? Her augments played with his soul. He could dial her from wide-eyed innocent to frothing wire-head in a second. So much more than a wire-head, though. Those ghosts cared only about the electrical current flowing into the pleasure centers of their brains. Sure, you could fuck them. He had. They would orgasm, though they did constantly whether they were being fucked or not. No, Missy's augments were so much more subtle and sophisticated. It was like his cock opening her cunt was her wire, his fingers stroking her nipples were more wires.

Reaching his limit as Missy shrieked for the umpteenth time, Bren blew pulse after pulse of piping hot DNA up past her trembling pulsing cervical opening. It sluiced against the end extent of her stretched vaginal tube and roiled and thrust into every crevice. As she shrieked out her pleasure, "AW FUCKIN" HOTT!!" her little uterine mouth sucked double time on his cockshaft, slurping up these freshly sown daddy juices.

Missy passed out. Bren pulled out her controller and dialed her back to normal, worried he'd overdone it. She had seemed to have fun, though.

(To be continued)