Sex Culture in the 23rd Century Ch. 08

Sex Culture in the 23rd Century

By Gary L.M. Martin

Chapter 8: The Conditioning Intensifies

Dale Mastercard was flirting with Rowenka again. He seemed to drop by every day now. Rowenka still didn’t quite understand what he did for a living. He was some kind of character witness? It was unclear why he was still there, in the Beverly Rectum Institute for the Study of the Global Human Infestation in which she worked, but there he was.

One day she went out to lunch with him. She ended up telling him some of her life story. Dale was such a good listener! And handsome, too, but she tried not to notice that.

“You were so brave to take the leap and leave New Cal to come here,” said Dale. “I don’t know if I could have been as courageous as you.”

“Oh, you olways say the nicest things to me,” said Rowenka, smiling as she instinctively rubbed her hands between her legs.

“That’s because there are a lot of nice things to say about you,” said Dale. “I hope your partner… you said his name is Manu? I hope Manu appreciates you too.”

“He does,” said Rowenka, with a smile. But it was a small smile. Things were good with Manu, but lately, she had been thinking that she was more and more dissatisfied, and she didn’t know why. Manu was attentive, and he was a good lover, and he listened to her problems, but something else was missing. A small voice inside of her told her that maybe she needed more friends. That’s why being out with Dale was good.

“But… ” she continued.

“But what?”

She really shouldn’t be telling Dale this. But who else could she tell? Laura? It might get back to Manu.

“I sometimes feel like something is missing, yew know? That I’m not getting everything I need,” said Rowenka. She was almost whispering, as if afraid that Manu could hear her.

“Well, how many men had you been with before Manu?”

“Before Manu?” It struck her as an odd question. “None. Oh, I dated one guy for a few weeks, but that went nowhere fast.”

“Well, maybe your problem is that you just haven’t had enough experiences with men, to know exactly what you’re missing.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now,” Rowenka grinned. “I’m married!”

“So?” said Dale, giving her a rugged smile. “Many people are partnered here, but still enjoy Connections with others.”

“Adultery? Hear?”

“We don’t use that word. There’s no pejorative attached to it in the Community,” said Dale. “It is simply Connections. The more Connections we make, the closer we get to achieving true Oneness, and the more we feel part of the Global Flesh.”

“But doesn’t the husband or wife being cheated on get angry?”

“Very often they participate.”

“They do?”

Dale nodded. “As I said, it’s all about achieving Oneness with the Global Flesh. When you Connect with Manu, I’m sure it’s wonderful. But you’re only Connecting with one person, and he’s only Connecting back to one person–you. But when you Connect with others, Manu can Connect with them as well, through the Global Flesh. By Connecting with more and more people, you both get closer to Oneness, and help build Self-Actualized Higher Group Consciousness.”

“I don’t knauw if I understand all that,” said Rowenka. “And I don’t knauw if Manu would go for that.”

Dale was pleased how the discussion had evolved. They were no longer talking about whether or not Rowenka was interested in Connecting with other men; that no longer seemed to be a stumbling block. Now it was all about whether Manu would accept it. Progress had been made. Maoina would be pleased.

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask him,” Dale smiled at her, and was pleased to see her shiver. Yes, the programming was working. She had been shown images of him every night, images of her and him Connecting. She wasn’t consciously aware of it, but she was reacting to it.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” said Rowenka shyly.

“Or maybe he’ll ask you to do it,” said Dale.

“Manu? Asking me to sleep with othar men? I doubt it.”

“You never know,” said Dale. He saw, with satisfaction, that he had already planted the first seeds of doubt.

Rowenka shifted uncomfortably in her seat and changed the subject. “What about yew? Do yew have a wyfe, or a partnar?”

“No partner,” said Dale, giving a small smile.

“Why not? You’re so… handsome! And nice!” And handsome? Had Rowenka said that emphatically enough? She found him simply gorgeous. She wanted to rub her hands all over his big chest, to press her lips against his, to rifle her hands over his thick, brown hair.

“Thank you,” said Dale, giving her a larger smile now. “I don’t know what it is. I make Connections, and they’re good, but whenever I try to go deeper, the women I’m with decide to move on.”

“Well, it just sounds like you haven’t found the right woman,” said Rowenka, relieved to discover that Dale wasn’t gay. She looked at his beefy chest. She imagined that any woman would love to run her hands over Tuzla travesti that. She herself had been having dreams lately, erotic ones, of being naked and pressing her breasts against a man with a big chest, bigger than Manu’s, a man who maybe looked a little like Dale. And the oddest thing about her dreams was that in every one, Manu was also there, watching approvingly. Was this simply wish fulfillment, or would Manu actually be accepting of it? And if he would be willing, how could Rowenka even ask him? Suddenly, her mind opened to new possibilities.

********

“We’re very pleased with your progress, Manu,” said Roark Diversity Funnel approvingly. “Your last three designs have been great. There has barely been any trace of originality in any of your designs.”

“Thank you, Roark,” said Manu. He still wished he could have more latitude in what he created, but at least schematics he drew were being approved. Things were being built! Right now a new water tower was being built in western OrgyFree based on one of his designs. Of course, the design was actually one from the central database that had already been used before, but Manu had been able to change a few minor details, enough to be able to call the project his own, but not too many that they changed any of the functional or visual aspects of the basic design.

Roark smiled at him. “Are you ready for more of a challenge? I want you to join a team which is creating a new air terminal. It is to be grand!”

An airport terminal? That sounded tremendous! Eagerly, he thanked Roark for the opportunity. Roark told him to work with Leilani Demand Justice and Haruto Queer Straight on the design.

Leilani and Haruto welcomed him into their workgroup. Haruto was a very friendly guy. Leilani had a bit of a chip on her shoulder but so far Manu hadn’t had any problems with her. As a member of The Happy Prime Ethnic Architecture Institute, specifically The Vertically Challenged Africans, Satisfied Pacific Islanders, and Bisexual Japanese Workgroup, Manu had encountered all kinds of people. Roark was a short African man. Leilani was a Pacific Islander, like himself, (though she didn’t seem so satisfied all the time). And Haruto was a bisexual Japanese man. There were all different workgroups within the The Happy Prime Ethnic Architecture Institute, all a careful balance of races, sexes, genders, and a mix of the fourteen basic sexual orientations and the thirty seven secondary ones.

Manu was given the important assignment of designing the entry hall for the air terminal. That was the first room that people would see when they entered the building. He was delighted to be given such an important assignment.

He got to work. Every so often he was distracted by holovideos of two men and a woman in a bar. It was always the same thing now. When he looked closely at it for a while, though, he thought he saw something else.

He saw Rowenka at a bar. Kissing another man. And he was there too, but he was just smiling and watching.

Manu had seen this before, in his dreams, he thought. At first, it really bothered him. He didn’t want Rowenka kissing another guy! But over time, he focused on Rowenka’s expression. When Manu wasn’t kissing her, when he was watching someone else do it, he was free to watch her without distraction. In his dream, he watched her become sexually aroused, he watched someone else sexually arouse her, and that started to make him sexually aroused too. Manu’s mind started to be open to the possibility of making it happen. Part of him didn’t want it, but part did, and the part that did was growing in strength every day.

It was all so ridiculous. Rowenka was so conventional she would never agree to such a thing. It would be better just to keep these dirty thoughts where they were now, in the world of fantasy.

Manu got back to work. He spent all afternoon working on the entrance to the terminal. At the end of the day Roark came by to check up on him.

“What do you think?” Manu asked.

“Hm….” Roark studied the design. He spent a full minute on it. Then he said, “No, this won’t do at all.”

“Why not?” said Manu.

“Your arches are too thin. Your ceiling is too low. Your walls are also too low. This feels intimate, like someone’s home, not a grand terminal.”

“Precisely,” said Manu. “Terminals always give people an impersonal feeling. I wanted to make this one feel more like home, more personalized.”

“By more personalized, you mean more individualized, don’t you?”

“Well, I suppose so.”

“But this is being built by the Community, for the Community. It should represent Community values, don’t you agree?” Roark asked.

“Yes, when you put it that way…”

“We need giant arches. We need large ceilings. We need big, five story walls.”

“Why?”

“Because we want the individual to feel small and insignificant,” said Roark. “Architecture, like every other endeavor, must serve Community interests. And the Community interest Tuzla travestileri in architecture is one in which the individual is crushed by the awesome power of the Community. When you go into this terminal you shouldn’t feel like you are at home. You should feel like a bug, a speck of dust, under the chilling might of the Community. Just think, if we made architecture cater to the whims of individualism, what would we have?”

“I don’t knauw.”

“Well, we would have unchecked free thinkers, and challenges to the very legitimacy of the Community,” said Roark. “We need architecture to work for us, not against us. It needs to be an obvious warning to all, of the immense power of the Community, that individual resistance is not only unwelcome but simply futile. We need, in short, a glorious architecture of oppression, oppression so powerful that the thought of individual resistance won’t even occur. Can you do that?”

Manu took a deep breath. “I can try.”

“Good. Keep up the good work. Be seeing you.” And he was gone.

Manu was conflicted for a moment. On the one hand, this wasn’t the kind of architecture he wanted to create. He wanted to build more individualistic works, that showed his creativity, that showed humanity. But that obviously wasn’t in style here.

On the other hand, even if he wasn’t completely happy with the limitations on his work, Manu was working as an architect, something he never would have been able to do in New Cal. If he were still in New Cal, he’d be laying cement for a walkway somewhere. And yet here he was now, designing a terminal for an airport.

No, it was still worth being here, despite the limitations. But then he looked up, and saw a holovideo of two men and a woman in a bar. Again. Now, what to do about that?

********

Fredrik awoke triumphantly the next morning. His mind didn’t feel scrambled the way it usually did. Sleeping on the floor had worked, he had avoided the affects of SleepTalk! He would give it another night or two to be sure, and then warn Laura.

When Fredrik went into the Manipulator, Ted showered him, and then dressed him in a pink blouse and a red miniskirt.

Fredrik reached under his skirt and plucked the Global Tampon out of his ass, which was, as he expected, black from having spent quality time in some other guy’s ass. Fredrik’s ass period had ended a few days ago, the disgusting blood having been replaced by equally disgusting egg whites coming out of his ass, but finally, it had all stopped.

The drama of having a tampon in his ass hadn’t ended without one last humiliation, however. Two days ago, on the last day of his man-period, someone came to see him while he was working on an article.

“Hi, how are you, I’m fine,” said the man. “Are you Fredrik Diem?”

“Yes,” said Fredrik.

“I’m Juan Egg Smelt,” said the man. He looked at Fredrik, as if he would recognize his name.

“Yes? Have we met?” Fredrik asked.

“Sort of,” said Juan. “Don’t you look up the past and future history of your Global Tampon?”

Fredrik stiffened at the mention of the device. “The history of it?” he said.

“You know, to find out who had it the day before you, and the day after. Sometimes several days before and after,” said Juan.

“Yew can find that out?”

“Sure! Ted knows,” said Juan.

Fredrik started to get a sinking feeling. “And you’re here because…”

“I had your GT yesterday,” said Juan, giving a sly smile.

Oh. My. God.

Fredrik realized that the thing deeply buried deep in his ass, right now, had just been inside of Juan Egg Smelt’s ass the day before. The fact that the device had supposedly been sterilized by some germ killing lights meant nothing to him.

“Like most people, I look up my successors and predecessors to seek out Connectedness, of course,” said Juan. “By learning who has been inside me, and who I have been inside of, through our Manpon, I feel more Oneness with the Community and the Global Flesh.”

“Uh huh,” said Fredrik, feeling like he was about to be sick. He resisted the urge to run to the bathroom and pull out the GT right now. Unfortunately, if he did that, he would probably get an egg white stain on the back of his pants.

“It’s great to meet you,” said Juan, putting a hand on Fredrik’s shoulder. “Maybe we could go out for drinks sometime?”

Fredrik inhaled. Then he exhaled.

“I’d love to,” said Fredrik. “But I have so much work.”

Go away. Go away right now, and never, ever come back.

“I understand,” said Juan, giving him a sly smile. He turned to go. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll meet again, through the GT.”

After that incident, Fredrik resolved to tell Maoina to stop his periods, permanently. But he was so busy, he hadn’t yet found the time to do so.

Right now, in the present, Fredrik had to cope with the fact that he was standing in his Manipulator wearing a pink blouse and a red skirt. Fredrik looked down at his red miniskirt. He also saw he Travesti tuzla was wearing high heels. He was all ready for a night out on the town, like a cheap hooker.

“Ted, what’s going on?” Fredrik asked.

“Congratulations, Fredrik. It’s your very first pink day,” said Ted. Ted explained how pink day was reparations for years of gender stereotyping.

“I see,” said Fredrik. “Your explanation was very educational. All right, now, take it off.”

“What?”

“Take it oll off!”

“But Fredrik, today is your pink day. Do you really want to let the male Community down by failing to do your part to pay gender reparations?”

“In a word, yes,” said Fredrik. He was very firm on this. His SleepTalk hadn’t focused on this aspect of compliance, being more intensely directed to persuading him to accept the more fundamental choices in the path that had been set out for him.

“Very well,” said Ted. “After all, the choice is always yours.”

In a moment, Fredrik was dressed in a white shirt and blue pants. But there was still just one problem. He put his hands into his pants, and pulled out yet another Global Tampon from his ass.

“When are yew going to stop putting these in my arse, Ted?”

“Whenever you like, my dear, dear friend. After all-“

“It’s my choice. Fine. Stop putting things in my arse, ok?”

“Very well, Fredrik,” said Ted.

Fredrik knew it was hopeless. Despite what he said, Ted would keep putting tampons in his ass every morning. It was what he was programmed to do. And Fredrik would keep taking them out. He must ask Laura if she were still wearing hers… outside of necessary days, of course.

********

Laura didn’t know it, but she was about to embark on the most erotic activity of her life.

Laura had agreed to go jogging with Mary Elizabeth Coca Cola.

It had all started innocently enough. Laura, seeing Mary Elizabeth in her tights, remarked how fit Mary Elizabeth looked. Mary Elizabeth thanked her, said she was fit because she went jogging several times a week. She had invited Laura to go with her.

“When? Now?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Aren’t we supposed to be working?”

Mary Elizabeth grabbed her hand conspiratorially. “We are working. We’re working to stir our creative juices,” she said, giving Laura an enticing look.

So Laura had agreed to go jogging. There were Manipulator booths at work (there were Manipulator booths everywhere). She had Ted dress her in sensible baggy shorts and running shoes, and a pink shirt. As Ted changed her, she felt something a little odd. Her Global Tampon was being swapped out and quickly replaced with another. Why?

Laura still hadn’t had her first period in OrgyFree yet, though it was due any day now. The first couple of days when Ted had inserted the Global Tampon inside her she had plucked it out, disgusted at the thought of having something inside her that had been inside someone else (actually, many, many someone elses). But after several days, she simply stopped noticing and left it inside, even though she didn’t yet need one. But Ted, for some reason, chose this moment to remove the one within her and swap it out for another one. She wondered why.

When she came out of the Manipulator Booth, she saw Mary Elizabeth, and her jaw almost dropped. Mary Elizabeth was wearing a semi-transparent jogging shirt which clearly showed the outlines of her large, firm breasts. If you looked closely enough you could see the nipples sticking through. She also wore a pair of shiny light blue shorts that were so tight that they showed off every contour of her body. And her Chikdik… her shorts were so tight that one could see the outlines of the entire shaft. It was as if a hard erection was sandwiched between Mary Elizabeth’s shorts and her body.

Mary Elizabeth saw Laura looking her over and she smiled. “Shall we go?”

They went to the roof of the building where they worked, the Susan G. Nomen tower, where a jogging track had been set up by women, for women. The jogging path was lined with genuine artificial plants to give the area an outdoor feel. Mary Elizabeth explained that if they had used real plants, that they could have been damaged by their proximity to people, so simulated plants were actually more environmentally sound.

They started jogging. The views were incredible, Laura could see for miles around in every direction. But the view that distracted her the most was Mary Elizabeth.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

The sound of Mary Elizabeth’s feet pounding into the clay was distracting, at first, but then it became hypnotic.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

Laura saw Mary Elizabeth’s powerful thighs clench as she took step after step. The same thighs that Laura dreamed about pressing against her, wrapping around her own equally nude legs.

And that wasn’t all. Mary Elizabeth’s tight shorts clearly showed the movements of the muscles in her buttocks as well.

Clench. Release. Clench. Release. Clench. Release.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

Laura watched Mary Elizabeth’s sweaty legs, as she clenched and released, as she pounded and pounded. Laura started to feel excited, despite herself.

We’re just jogging. Why am I getting physically aroused? she asked herself.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32