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She could feel the director watching her stare at her biological father. A stranger to her, and yet somehow familiar. Perhaps she could recognize parts of herself, but the comparison was difficult since his face was permanently contorted into an expression of ecstasy, and he was so many years her senior.
“Albert Wade. 132 years old. Has provided the seed for 5,117 children.” The director said. “18 years of service remain.”
Lucia found herself out of breath. Her mouth was dry and she was silently panting. She leaned over the railing, trying to get a closer look. The director stepped behind her and pulled her back against him. “Careful,” he said.
His hands were on her shoulders, fingers curving inward and down toward her chest. Her skin tingled where he touched her and her nipples pinched even more, aching painfully. His hips pinned her against the railing and she could feel his erection nestled between her ass cheeks. She leaned back against him and he groaned, pressing his cock into her. He lowered his head so his lips were next to her ear. “Would you like to meet him?”
She tilted her head back, letting his fingers meet in the hollow of her throat. “Yes.”
One hand slipped down along her side to grip her by the waist, and the other stretched to the side to direct the taxi. It glided forward and lifted them up so she was face to face with the old man.
The director began lightly fingering the hem of her skirt, his fingertips grazing her thighs, and creeping higher.
“Hello, Father.” She said, in a whispered pant. His response was a pathetic high pitched moan. His eyes rolled back and he shuddered through an orgasm. He, like the thousands of others in the warehouse, was suspended in the air. Tubing connected to various devices and contraptions on his body. One set connected to a metal sheath over his cock and balls, another disappeared inside his asshole, two connected to his nipples, and another connected to a port embedded in the base of his neck.
The director had shown her the devices before the tour of the facility. The wearable devices worked in tandem with the user’s Personal Device’s Neural Network to immerse them in a virtual experience. The network was designed to maximize the erotic response of the user. It was the standard of population management.
“Can I…” she trailed off, both working up the courage and fighting off the heady erotic daze threatening to consume her. “Can I touch him?”
“You can touch him however you like.” The director’s lips pressed against her ear, nibbling on earlobe. She reached forward and held the old man’s face in her hands. His unmanaged, white beard was long and soft. She brushed it away from his lips. Leaning forward, she kissed him. Suddenly he came alive, he grabbed her throat and the back of her head and shoved his tongue between her lips. His tongue was thick, fat, and filled her mouth. He demanded a taste of every corner before tilting her head back and reaching far down her throat with his tongue. She gagged and he groaned into her mouth and squeezed her neck. He removed his tongue and spat in her open gasping mouth and pushed the gob of spit down her throat with this fingers. Massaging her neck as he forced her to swallow it down.
“Be grateful, you nasty bitch.” He glared at her, his eyes were sharp and had completely lost any hint of the glaze that they’d had before. She gagged on his fingers and he spat on her face. He raised his hand to slap her and the director pulled her back. His strike missed her but triumph flashed on the old man’s face. The glazed look was back in his eyes and she knew that he could not distinguish reality from fantasy. The network was playing out a version of events where he had successfully slapped her.
She leaned back against the director, gasping. “Thank you,” she said.
“This has been one of the more interesting tours I’ve given.” The director said, his body pressed flushed against hers, and his hands rubbing her body up and down her sides, lifting her skirt a little higher each time.
She arched her back and pressed her ass against him and said, “they’re not all like this?”
“I’ll admit they’re nothing like this.”
“Oh, dear.”
Back in the director’s office she sat on the other side of the desk from him but the distance did nothing to temper her lusty haze. She felt his gaze raking across her body, and she drank in his image just as greedily. Dark thick hair complimented a face made of hard edges. Soft lips smiled lazily. His beard was short and dark, emphasizing his strong jaw. His eyes were the color of honey. His suit just teased her about the physique underneath. A sprinkling of chest hair peaked out from the neck of his unbuttoned shirt.
She saw herself lifting her feet to the chair, spreading her legs, pulling aside her panties, and fingering herself for his enjoyment. She held the image in her mind and bit her lip instead. He’d said something. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I said we are thrilled by your interest but we will have to table your application based on your age of only 18.”
She felt like she’d had cold water poured over her. “What? Why? I was the top of my class. I’ve… I’ve done everything I can think of to show the value of my genetic contribution.”
“It’s true, you have amazing potential. You have demonstrated that you are far and above your peers. But potential is not the same as proof. This position requires not just potential, but demonstration of follow through. Please understand, this is not a rejection. This is merely a ‘let’s wait and see’.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“The FRA is eagerly awaiting to see what your realized potential looks like. I will be your personal agent to work with you should you desire any…” he raked a slow indulgent gaze over her body, “guidance.” He slid a business card across the table. Without thought she automatically hovered the inside of her left wrist over the thin sliver of metal. She felt the ‘Updated Contacts’ notification vibrate her ring fingertip. He put the card away. “I suggest we meet this weekend to discuss what steps you can take to pursue your goal of becoming a Breeder.”
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