Green Ice

Green Ice Author: Morlock Title: Green Ice Universe: The Hotel Summary: The next generation brings the business to a peak only dreamed of by its founders. Keywords: MF+, FF+, bd, tort, ws, reluct, slavery, medical Edited 070712 Note.  This first book is very preliminary and almost certainly will have major changes as I correlate all the different threads into a coherent whole. Book 1 This is a long story and is a continuum of two previous stories with some of the original characters and their descendants.  The tale will stand alone, but will make more sense if The Hotel and The Desert Nexus are read first.  The first book is somewhat light on B&D and heavy on scene setting.  Nonetheless, it is a tale of several close families heavy into the modern slavery business - among other things. ............... Historian's note The quoted author, John Tatum, was the son of Mike and Teema Tatum, an exceedingly wealthy family of obscure antecedents.  Like his virtually unknown parents, he was a industrialist of massive power and wealth beginning in the second third of the twenty-first century.  His significant other, as binary mates were known sometimes, was Rita Harris, the daughter of Rodger and Margarita Harris.  Like the Tatum family, the Harris household was in position of great wealth from the business of moving products around the world for purchase and sale.  There is some uncertainty of the actual relation of Margarita Harris - certain notes and documents suggest that she was not a spouse in the legal sense, but was a female mate only in reality, not in law as current at the time. As to Rodger Harris, the younger Rita's father, many tales are in the records of his activities in youth.  Some have to be dismissed as sheer myth, or story telling based on magnified facts.  However, it remains that he was an active 'Soldier of Fortune,' as the term went, and what he termed honorable violence accompanied his undertakings around the world.   Readers wanting more information are directed to his fairly large biographies in the cubic archives.  Use search terms 'Rodger Harris R&R Mr. Sergeant'. After the collapse of the petrochemical industry, worldwide, and the resulting chaos and massive slide in what was known as standards of living, John and the younger Rita took over both lines of family business, merging it with another close friend into one massive conglomeration that they called The Enterprise. It is difficult to determine the exact nature of their business, but two major features stand out.  One was a political science organization dedicated to controlling the direction of the country of America, as it was known at the time.  The other was a standard industrial conglomeration dedicated to building wealth for the Enterprise.  The main location of the Enterprise was on a minor island of a chain that together was part of a political subunit, called the State of Hawaii.  This was one of fifty two subunits making up the whole of the country of America.  After the energy collapse, and the ensuing retraction of the population into the strip cities of the mainland, the Enterprise took control of most of the island, gradually securing the rights to the remaining area over the next twelve years.   John's home was on this island.   Most other units of the Enterprise were located there also, except for certain factories and offices located around the world. Much of this narrative will make little sense to modern readers.  Indeed, a considerable amount is still somewhat hazy to historians specializing in the history after the great crises of the 21th century.  Nonetheless, it is presented in it's original form, but with occasional notes to explain some of the more obscure references. A.J. Doohan, Department of Classical Philology, SE, PHc, sClass - level 5. ............... *************** INS - Internet News Service ***FLASH*** - preempt all - key=flash_immediate - all stations accept. 14:43 June 13, 2021 ...and all stocks of petrofuel, including gasoline, diesel, natural and liquified gas are included in the rationing decree.  The Department of Energy has indicated that a temporary rationing system will be set up within two days that will distribute to drivers with a valid license.  At this time, we have no details as to the amount or frequency of purchases.  A statement by an internal source says that the Strategic Petroleum Reserve will be used for commerce delivery in the interim, but no indication was given as to the use by private motorists.  The President will give a news conference at 16:00 EST on the latest events in the Persian Gulf, including estimates of radioactivity effects here and... *************** --------------- Years later My new guest was still not happy, which was probably a result of her wearing massive weights on all four limbs.  She could move, and even lift a leg or arm, but the trembling muscles would give up the struggle and in a few seconds both the weight and the limb would thump back on the floor.  She had discovered that the most comfortable position was to lay on her back so that the weights would rest on the floor and not continually pull down on her extremities.  Of course, comfort is a variable term - it certainly didn't help that her two ankle weights were held spread by a metal bar.  Her legs weren't stretched open to the point of pain, but were ve'ed out enough that the position became oppressive after a while.  Of course, since she was bare naked, it also allowed for easy view or manipulation of her split open crack.  Except for the seeing, that hadn't happened to her yet.  I had no erotic interest in a forty year old bureaucrat from the mainland.  Her first couple of days were spent in her spewing a continual stream of curses and threats.  The gamut ran from how well connected she was, to just how fucked I was going to be when she reported my actions, and of course, finally a generous offer to forget anything that had happened if I would just let her go.  I turned as the door opened and a very young girl entered, carrying a tray of food and a carafe of water.  This one wasn't naked, but might as well have been.  Her sheer silk gown hid nothing - and prevented nothing, for that matter.  Since I had no interest in shagging on a hard carpeted floor, I just watched as she bent over, her large jugs dangling and bobbing, set the tray down and immediately left.  "I have good news for you Judge."  Well, sort of, in a matter of form.  Actually, the good part just affected me but she would find that out eventually.  "Tomorrow you leave here and the weights come off."  No answer.  "You're going back to school."  She just lay on her back, waiting.  I knew that as soon as I left, she would struggle to turn over so that her face could be close to the tray, and her fingers could feed herself without having to lift the heavy weights.   I left, not bothering to lock the door behind me and headed for my office on the top floor of my home. From my office windows, I could see far across the island to the deep blue sea that encompassed it around.  It was a beautiful day - as were almost all days in this paradise.  Our footprint on the land was very light, and, in the daytime, very little could be seen except for the green tropical jungle foliage that covered most of the landscape.  The population density was very low, and consisted only of the members of the Enterprise - and a certain number of employees and temporary guests.  Compared to the rest of mainland America, not to mention the rest of the world, this really was a true paradise. With the collapse of the petrochemical industry, and the disappearance of reasonably priced energy, the entire world had devolved into a major depressed area - power constrained and crowded beyond belief.  And, barring some kind of technological breakthrough in the power industry, such as the long sought and unlikely hydrogen fusion reactor, the world had very little chance to improve.  The electric grids had been pulled back into the cities in the last decades, leaving the rural areas much as they were a century and a half ago - without power beyond what you could provide from solar cells, wind generators and batteries.   Even the roads were no longer maintained by the governments, and what used to be a fairly well constructed highway system, were now single lane trails with more dirt than pavement.   To live in a rural area now, you had two choices.  Either be wealthy enough to provide your own juice, or live like Daniel Boone in a house lit by candles and supplied with water from a hand cranked well.  Oh, and build one of those long forgotten necessities for your use - an outhouse. While the ever expanding cities were attempting to assimilate ever more teeming masses, the rural parts of America were abandoned, mainly because of the before mentioned lack of power.  Even in those areas still served by a power plant, the electricity wasn't a 24 hour utility.  In fact, on the average, a given dwelling got about six to eighteen hours of juice per day, depending on the time of year and the demand.  If they could afford it - unlikely - people filled in with solar panels and batteries to run lights and entertainment centers during blackout times.   In the rural parts of the country, there weren't enough guards in the world to prevent the wires from being harvested for illegal scrap.  Visible cables had disappeared years ago to bands of copper and aluminum thieves.  I'm not complaining - I loved it.  Out here the air and water were pure, the hassles of civilization were minimal, and the overwhelming problem of overpopulation didn't exist.  Actually, except for an exceptional few - almost all of whom were my friends - you couldn't have shot a cannon from my home and hit another person.  The island was liberally supplied with electricity from one of the only two deep sea thermocouple generating stations in the world. Remoteness was security.  All travel by the public now was either by train for long distance, or bicycle, streetcar and light rail for in city movement.  Air travel had died with the appearance of five hundred dollar per barrel oil - well, most of it, anyway.  Heads of state and well connected individuals could still fly on the world's few remaining private aircraft.  Even the air forces of the world had few planes that were actually flying.  The revolutions and chaos in the oil producing countries, along with the virtual total destruction of the oil fields put the kibosh on fuel gulping vehicles.  As a result, the average person had no personal transportation, besides a bicycle, and even had it been on the mainland, my house was far beyond any casual travel distance from a city. After the Collapse, the previous generation of the Enterprise had purchased most of the land on this island, then over the next few years bought out the remaining landowners.  Then our families, and everyone connected with them moved here from all over the world.  Because of our combined wealth, and power, we had no problem maintaining our isolation.  Of course, the fact that both air and sea travel had almost disappeared helped with that. I looked up as the door to my office opened with a murmur of compressed air.  It was one of the several female shallies that "worked" for me at the moment.  This one was white and blond and was sporting all of the equipment required for her "job."  I inherited the full percentage of the fascination of female bondage from my father, and I certainly got his predilection for big tittied girls in full.  This one fit the bill perfectly as a horizontal pleasure unit, as Rita sarcastically called them.  ............... Historians note Shallie [shal-ee]  [Linguistic weight - mildly derogatory]  Derivation is unknown but is probably a play on the word, "shallow," referring to the uneducated nature of such an individual.   A term for a person employed for their physical characteristics.  Usually female, but sometimes male.  Almost always used for sexual services.  History.  After the collapse of the job market as a result of the 2020's (old calendar) energy crisis, the vast majority of citizens were unemployed.  To forestall the collapse of society, the welfare "safety net," as it was called at the time, was expanded to guarantee every citizen at least a minimum wage job, housing, and food.   As a result, most jobs were government maintained and non-productive positions of no significance.  As a direct result, a secondary market sprang up of employing "associates" - by corporations and wealthy individuals alike.  To an uneducated and unskilled young person - almost always an attractive female - the chance of making vastly more money than her peers, along with living in a far more luxurious environment than a government supplied living cube, was beyond attractive.   The fact that employment for sexual purposes was illegal had no effect on the practice... ............... "Your morning coffee, Master."  She set the tray down on my desk and waited for an indication of what to do next.  "Next" was to stand there while my hand checked out the frontal parts of my "employee."  Actually, a physical inspection wasn't really necessary.  Her diaphanous gown hid nothing whatsoever as it tented down over her massive jugs.  My gonads were really insisting that I tow her over to the divan and knock off a piece, but I managed to restrain them - at least for a while.  I lightly popped her on the behind and turned back to my viewing.  She left, but before the door could close, she stepped aside to allow yet another woman enter. This new person wasn't an empty headed, big boobed shallie - well, actually, she was hanging a nice pair on a really good looking body, but it was what was up top that was different.  This woman was a card carrying genius and was Sallie, my Chief of Staff, just to use an ancient term for an executive assistant.  Her small, but elegant chalet was just down the road from mine.  Of course, the inside of her dwelling was more like a laboratory than a home - she cared nothing for frilly feminine do-dads and knickknacks - just to use a couple of ancient terms from Rita's mother.   Her only used room was a kitchen, dining room and bedroom all in one.  She ate, worked, relaxed, and slept beside an always available personal data unit display.   Hell, she even pee'd and pooped in front of one - her water closet was just as well equipped for information I/O as her living area.  No way would she ever willingly be out of touch of her artificial intelligence automatons. I hadn't known she was coming over, but Sallie was one of the several who had intimate access to my home, as I had to hers. I could tell this wasn't one of her better mornings. Before I could speak, she started up.  "Got a problem, boss.  Oregon is on the line and I figured it would save time if we both took the call."  I nodded and she turned around to face the wall sized visual panel.  A low word to the personal data unit on her ear and the acti-panel replaced my morning report with a life-sized 3-D view of a man, sitting at a desk.  "Ok, Larson.  The boss-man is listening.  What you got?"  Like her array of AI machines, she wasted no time on empty pleasantries or speech. I felt the need to interject some humanity into the beginning conversation.  "How are you, Bill?  Got any new scrap, lately?"  My plant manager had the hobby of collecting pre-collapse mobility machines - automobiles, they used to be known as.  Of course, all he could do was collect them for show.  Usage was out of the question where he lived.  Fossil fuel engines had been verboten for decades - not only for the wastage of petrostocks, but West Coasters were intensely touchy about pollution.  The global warming syndrome hadn't been kind to a section of the country that had never been subject to nature's more violent whims, beyond earthquakes.  The colossal megastorm outbreaks of '28 and '30 resulted in passage of a multitude of environmental laws, most of which were absolutely useless, beyond being used of political gain.  But, as a result, on the western side of the Rockies, even an unlicensed campfire could get your ass put away for five years.  Cranking up a gasoline engine would probably get you lynched. "Doing fine, Boss.  Got a couple of new ones.  Give you the tour when you come out."  He looked sideways at something out of view.  Probably another person trying to get his attention.  He waved them away.  "Actually, Boss.  When I said fine, that isn't exactly accurate." "BoBo again?" I asked.  BoBo was our name for a current politician in that state - one particularly obnoxious share-the-wealth socialist scumbag. He nodded.  "SB1937 may go up for a vote by the fall legislative session, and if it does, it may pass."  He was referring to a particular state Senate bill.  "All he's waiting for is the worst of the summer blackouts." I cursed the fact of life that put the California current off the coasts of the most liberal states in the Union.  The problem was the power to the massive chemical plant on the coast of Oregon.     From a political standpoint, the Gulf coast would be far more satisfactory, but the waters in that enclosed body were almost static.  In contrast, the constant zephyr of water off the west coast brought a continual supply of the chemicals to be extracted from the sea. The power supply to the chemical extraction plant consisted of a trio of massive thermocouples - the same as supplied power to the island.  On the land next to the plant were large and shallow pools of water, sun heated with the help of mirrors and covered by a thin glaze of material that was actually a thermal barrier which let light and heat in, but not out.  One end of a thermocouple pair was submerged in the hot water and the other, on the far end of a long superconducting cable, lay its cold partner on the seafloor.  Its environment was just above freezing.  With a difference of almost ninety degrees C, the thermoelectric effect generated massive amounts of power as the unit tried to make the hot pool colder and the bottom of the ocean warmer. The power produced was used to rip valuable elements and minerals from the seawater - elements that were vitally necessary to society today.   Elements that were no longer available from surface mines due to exhaustion and greenies. The thermocouple equipment worked well, was almost maintenance free, but was still too expensive to be used for anything but high end commercial production.  Unfortunately, the current crop of mediocre politicians in the area considered it unfair for all that power to be used for the mere extraction of industrial materials for private gain, while their constituents went without power at irregular intervals - usually during the hottest or coldest times of the year.  An obvious solution would be to share that power - at our expense, of course - and if we were enlightened servants of the people, instead of greedy materialistic capitalists, we would see that obvious fact.  After all, private property is really just public property held in trust for the good of the people.  Right? Of course, if that happened then not only would the production fall to some corresponding low level, but the people that the concerned public servants were worried about would be sitting at home, not only sweltering or freezing, but wondering why their jobs had disappeared at various industries.   Industries that would now have no raw materials. A few more minutes of conversation ensued, then we closed it out - me to decide what to do and our Oregon man to wait for the decision.  The view of the manager's office faded out and his image on the wall was replaced by a simulacra of a window looking out over the valley.  I waved Sallie over to the lounging area near the big window.  We settled in a pair of overstuffed recliners.   She waited while I thought the problem over.  Not that it was a surprise.  We saw this coming for a couple of years.  It was just recently that it seemed to speed up. "Maybe we ought to sell the place," I mused.  "Dupree Synthetics has wanted the plant ever since we built it." She spoke into her PDU and triggered the multisided display on the coffee table.  It filled with an array of incomprehensible numbers.  After a few seconds of studying, she said, "Not a good idea, boss.  That plant is almost eight percent of the Enterprise income.  Reported income, that is."  There was a big difference.  Taxes were one of the evils of today's society.  With most of the population either not employed or showing up at make-work jobs, the government needed most of the income of the minority that did actual productive work just to fund food and living space accounts.  Of course, that just meant that tax evasion was rampant.  And we were no exception.  Of course, in this age of all transactional monies having to go through a government bank clearing house, you couldn't just not report income.   But, there were other ways, especially for an all powerful entity like the Enterprise - our inside name for the global construct that I was partial owner of. She continued.  "Plus, the clandestine shipments of materials around the world a our major source of pull and income with other governments."  She sat back.  "Nope.  We have to fix the problem." "Suggestions?" I asked, knowing that she would have already gone through a series of what-ifs and developed a plan before she would even bother me with the issue. "We have to get rid of BoBo, but that's a problem for Rita.   Maybe we can stage a plant shutdown for unscheduled maintenance."  I nodded to keep going and then spoke into my PDU.  I thought I saw where she was taking this.  "That should throw a wrench into the political process - at least for the more moderate skimmers."  Her using the current slang for politicians was just the tip of the iceberg of her hatred for all things political.  She ran through some more figures.  "We can stockpile for a couple of months and not get hurt badly in a shutdown if things really go to hell." I held up my hand as the door hissed, and a shallie entered with a tray of refreshments in response to my command a minute or so ago.  Another temporary girl that I didn't bother to learn the name of, also well built and showing it through her brief silk clothes.  All of my girls wore either nothing, or something that would have been fashionable in private in my parent's time.  The current styles of skintight and nano-thin clothing might show everything off, but as far as access went, they might be just an image on a visual panel.   I had no interest in males, but the body of a female wearing "slicks" was not only inaccessible, it was damn near rape proof. As she bent over to set the tray down, her depending tits swayed in time with her movements.  Once again, my gonads complained about being ignored and began to show their displeasure through my thin shorts, all that I was wearing besides a pullover shirt. Sallie started back up as the girl left.  "We have an agent inside of the legislature there, but he isn't close to BoBo's staff.  We don't have time to insert another before the critical juncture.  A short gap shafting is all we need to give him for now, then Rita's people can come in with a permanent fix."  She looked at me, then at the door where the shallie had disappeared.   "Right now, our main concern is that your concentration has unfocused on our problem."  She stood up, reached behind her back and a second later, her halter dropped away, leaving two full breasts bobbing in front of my eyes. Sallie was no bond-girl, but her body was all woman and she knew what her parts were for.  I knew that for a fact - I had been inside it many times.  I also stood up and shucked off my two pieces of clothing.  From a small bottle, I took two Ice tablets, gave one to her and swallowed the other.   Seconds later, we were laying on the divan and the problems of the West Coast were forgotten.  Sallie didn't have Rita's courtesan training, but she could still empty a man's nuts to the point that they ached.  And she enjoyed it just as much as her partner.  She had had Chi's clitoro-vaginoplasty reconstruction procedure - like all of the women in our inside circle - so her nerves associated with the clitoris had been relocated and aggrandized to the inside entrance of the vaginal hole.  A women with this surgical enhancement could reach orgasm during intercourse as easily as a man, and some times even easier.  It certainly made them want the act of sex as often as a male. We lay there in a glow of satisfaction, with my dong still up her honeypot, waiting for the Ice to let us down.  Finally, her mind switched modes from tart back to computer.  Her brain had absolutely no idle mode - almost a carbon copy of her mother, also named Sally, who was Rita's Father's data miner.  "We have several months to plan. Let me do a workup on the best way to approach this.  She wiggled her behind under me.  "Unless your production tool needs more work." I smiled, pulled out of her and stood up.  Immediately, two shallies appeared with steaming towels.  As they began to clean both of us up, I said, "I'm heading over to Quan's.  He has something that he wants me to see."  I pulled on my shorts.  "Knowing him, it's probably something illegal, profitable and fun. --------------- The next morning "Yo, John!.  Com'on in." "Hi, Quan."  The day before, my friend had asked me to come over to look at something... special.  We could have done just about the same thing over our private data network but in this day of long distance acquaintances, it was refreshing to actually meet someone face to face.  Besides, despite the supposedly uncrackable characteristic of a Personal Data Network, an outgrowth of the old and defunct Internet, ours, and the previous generation of our three families all shared a common motto - privacy, precautions, and prudence.  Quan, Rita, Sallie and myself practically got the concept with our mothers' milk.  To put it another way, trust no machine and no human being outside of your intimate and tested circle - even on our secure and locked down island. I took his offered hand in a firm grip.  "Whas'breeking?"  Quan would have no problems with my slang.  He had immigrated to America when he was a baby, as their family barely got out of Vietnam with their lives.  His father, Rita's father, and mine had been thick as thieves in... well, well, their individual business forays. Quan had continued the family business and, like his father, was a top notch biochemist and medical doctor.  And, like our parents, our business interests also converged.  Well, that is somewhat inaccurate, actually they were interlocked like they were glued together.  He led me to his private quarters where we were undressed by a pair of shallies and then entered his massive hot pool.  This fixture, alone, indicated his wealth in a time where most people barely had access to hot water for a shower.  Years ago, when our families had first moved to the island, Quan's father had built this beautiful and half buried mansion. He waved the shallies away and they vanished.  We wanted to talk.  Sex would come later if we wanted.  "So what's this secret that you are dying to show me?"  Something illegal, no doubt.  That was a given.  Nowadays, almost everything was illegal in one form or another as people insisted on an absolutely equal sharing of rapidly dwindling resources.  Even pouring your ice out onto the sidewalk, instead of the closest plant life could get you a fine.  Failing to drop your empty can into a recycle container would have your ass standing in front of a magistrate before you could turn around. He smiled a conspiratorial face, then said.  "Later.  You will have to see to believe."  He looked up as a shallie entered with our refreshments - this one naked.  Quan liked the nude female form and hated when they were covered up.  Both of us took an ice cold glass.  "Why didn't you bring Rita?" "She's staying over at the cylinders.  She might come by if I'm still here, but I doubt it.  You hope she doesn't.  She'll talk your ear off about tensors and polyquates and suchlike.  Some new project that she is fixated on."  I took a sip of some kind of liquor - I never knew what he would offer as a social drink, but it was always something that the gods would have served.  "Sometimes I think I'm laying one of those old calculators, rather than a girl." "And I have always noticed that your fingers like to play on your 'calculator'"  I turned around, knowing who the soft voice belonged to. "Good morning, Chi."  His mate was a very attractive oriental woman - small, thin, soft spoken, utterly dignified - an an accomplished surgeon in her own right.  She had been brought over from the motherland when Quan was old enough to take a sexual partner.  It was the only concession to their old way of life.   Like us at the moment, she was naked as Eve.  Smiling, she entered the water with us. "When our bath is over, you call her and insist that she come.  No work is more important than friendship."  Chi and Rita were very close friends.   I had no idea why - they were as different as pepper and salt, but for some reason the chemistry clicked between them the moment they met.  They often shared a bed together - the sex was good, I assumed, but that was their business - they would tell both Quan and me if they wanted us to know. "Ruou ngon phai co ban hien," she asked in her ever polite manner that granted you a blessing to be able to answer.  I recognized the greeting that, loosely translated, meant,  "And how is the world treating you?"    I set my glass on the edge of the pool.  A naked shallie instantly appeared, waited for my hand to wave refusal for a refill, then disappeared with the container.  "Considering the shape the world is in, I can't complain."  And I really couldn't.  Quan and Chi, and myself and Rita were among the wealthiest families on the planet and our lives were infinitely better than the average person, even in the top tier countries.  My father had very early on taught me that the benefit of unlimited money is not that you can just buy anything you want when you want it.  That is only the icing on the cake. Rather, wealth insulates a person from the trials and tribulations of the wage earning citizen.  America still hadn't descended into the justice-by-bribe that was the norm around the world - that was a direct result of Rita's father's enterprise - but it was a given that Quan and I were almost immune from legal scrutiny and harassment by authorities.  There were other reasons for our immunity, also, besides just being able to swamp the other side with high priced lawyers. I continued.  "I suspect that every generation looks back to the previous one as a golden age.  But, some of the stories my parents told me about the good-ole-days, as they call them, are hard to believe.  I know they're true, but I can't place myself in them." Quan nodded and set his now empty glass down.  Like mine, it instantly disappeared.  Chi floated over to him and settled in his lap.  A short kiss and tittie bob later, he answered with a nod.  "Like being able to get in your massive metal automobile, fill it with fossil petrofuel, and just drive it down a highway without anyone or anything knowing where you were going or why?"  I nodded at the statement of the idiocy of the previous generations that plundered the entire planet of petroleum just to burn it up moving people around and cooling buildings without consideration for the future.  Apparently it never occurred to anybody that they were burning up the cheapest and most convenient supply of petrochemicals at the same time - the same chemicals that our civilization was based on.   Everything, and I mean ninety five percent plus of the everyday items that made life livable were made from hydrocarbon based precursors.  They still were, except that now the stuff had to be manufactured artificially at ten times the effort and price as before. "At least, armies have gotten too expensive to maintain."  It was true.  Compared to the last century, militaries were not much bigger than police forces.  But, the main problem was, "Too many people trying to share too little stuff." Chi smiled.  "Maybe Rita can issue a campaign to convince a majority to leave."  She was joking, of course. She knew full well what Rita's "job" consisted of. Quan spoke up.  "Did you bring your bitch judge with you?" I nodded.  An action team member had come by early in the morning to haul the ex-Judge away.  In fact, she was somewhere in Quan's laboratory building as we spoke, but probably not in quite as comfortable an environment as we were enjoying. "I assume you're though with her?" he asked. I nodded again.  "She's all yours.  Do what you want with the damned cunt.  When you're through, she'll go to Chima's - or someplace."  Chima ran a whorehouse in Asia that specialized in white women.   He had already accepted several females that had crossed us during the last few years. I was about to ask Quan to show me his new, whatever-it-was, then realized that, with Chi sitting in his lap and facing way from him, he was inserted into her and was well on his way.  Chi, of course, noticed my noticing and asked, "Do you need me to relieve your pressures, also?" I smiled and shook my head and lay back in the water, waiting for them to finish. --------------- Quan's office First, we looked over the many young women and fewer men that were there under my auspices.  They were in all stages of reprogramming, from the several girls just starting the treatment, all the way up to a group that was about to "graduate."  We weren't really at the facility - it was across the valley a couple of kilometers.  Rather, we sat before a previously blank wall and examined the full scale and live images being displayed.   Quan would speak a command word and the scene would move around the subject, or shift to a new one.   One of the new girls was just sitting down - totally nude, of course - in a small white room, kind of like being inside of a large white egg.  It was totally featureless - there wasn't even a mat.  Rather, a section of the bottom part of the "egg" was soft and pliable and was to be used for sleeping.  It would give to the contours of the body, and was even comfortable, but as soon as the occupant got up, it would slowly reform to just be a gently curved section of floor.   No corners, no seams, even the hidden toilet couldn't be seen unless it was in operation and it would only open when the patient's implant signaled the need for its use.  As a non-painful torture chamber, the deprivation egg was diabolical.  The occupant's vision would just skid and slide around, desperately trying to find anything to focus on.  After a couple of months of subjective time, the occupant would almost be frantic with boredom.  Even her food was a special concoction that was both very nutritious and totally without taste. It was the first stage in the conversion process, made to deliberately get the subject's mind craving for any change at all to their environment. This was a black girl, about eighteen.  Hairless, of course, other than her long head tresses and eyebrows.  Universal depilation had been the norm since about the beginning of the century - male or female.  I knew they were true now, but as a boy I never quite believed my Father's tales about the rituals of men and women that required them to scrape the unwanted hair from their bodies with a special knife.  A very sharp knife that had to be used every day.  Now, in the case of men, the removal of facial hair was a legal requirement and had been ever since the advent of universal facial recognition.  In public, if the machine didn't recognize you, then you didn't buy anything, doors didn't open, your personal data unit didn't work and shortly, the coppers came by to see what was the matter. The girl was a real looker - I didn't remember, but she was probably going to be cognified into a 'Patra, although she would have sexual skills that the original Cleopatra could only have dreamed about.   Solid black hair of course, dark skin, large breasts and hips and a thin waist.  I also noticed that the top of her crack had the little dimple that was characteristic of most women's pudenda.    As we watched, the girl acted as all new subjects did.  She would sit for a while, then stand up and walk back and forth, sometimes talking to herself, sometimes talking to a supposed watcher.  I didn't envy her the next few weeks or months as her mind spiraled into emptiness from total lack of external stimuli, as it was being prepared to receive new programming. The others were farther along.  They were still in single enclosures, but these were normal cubical rooms with normal furniture.  I didn't pretend to understand the details, but every day they were subject to various stimuli - maybe an actie, or possibly an actual encounter with a person - it depended on what they were being programmed for.  One of the girls was crying tears of joy, as she played out her character in an inane actie about true love, or the like.  On occasion, she would just see a flat movie - like those that had been around for over a century, but the interactive visual was far more stimulating. Of course, the sensual input of her eyes and ears was just the setting - the actual stimulation came from being injected with one of Quan's juices, as I called his mental conditioning serums.  And by having her nervous system being played like a musical instrument.  This one was obviously also being congnified into a 'Patra. ............... Historians note Movie [mov' ee]  [Linguistic weight - popular term]  Short for 'Moving Picture.' The references here are somewhat confusing and obsolete.  The visual and audio entertainment medium called a "Movie" was invented roughly around the beginning of the twentieth century (old calendar).  Actual persons (called Actors) would play out a scenario and the performance would be captured on a long strip of photosensitive material, then displayed later in a large room called a 'Theater.'  For that entire century, the projections were flat, i.e., without any depth.  As the century ended, the performances were captured digitally and three dimensional projectors were coming into being.  In 2026, the Portlan - Siemens interference projector was invented and produced actual 3-D images of any size and depth.  At that time, the governments of the world were desperately trying to produce distractions to alleviate the distress of the rapidly falling standard of living, and resources were poured into the entertainment industry.  The main result, in a few years, was the activision - Interactive Visual Immersion Projector - or, as it became to be known, the 'Actie."  With this medium, the responses and emotions of the viewer would dictate the progress of the performance, and no two were ever alike. As some examples:  A person could stand beside Menelaus at the siege of Troy, giving and taking advice as the battle progressed.  A group could engage  a guide for a safari in Africa, or a climb to the summit of Mount Everest.  Or a mission to Mars.  The available programming was vast. With the life sized and three dimensional images from the very large display panels, it took only a few seconds before the participant's senses were propelled out of their actual environment and into the scene.   This became even more efficacious when the interference projectors were introduced, that allowed for the person to actually enter the scene and to have a full three hundred and sixty degree panorama, including overhead and underneath. ............... She had a small stud sticking out of the back of her neck, like an actor in a bad science fiction actie.  Quan had long since replaced the collars that his father used with far less intrusive implants.  These still did fundamentally the same thing by injecting certain specially tailored chemicals and also stimulating the main nervous system at the required times during the daily lessons, or whatever you wanted to call the stimuli.  They would be removed when the patient "graduated."   Of course, the serums and techniques were light years ahead of those pioneered by his father.  At rest times, the implant would inject a sleep drug, which would give a technician a chance to enter and refill his or her implant bladders with more juices. Finally, we were looking at a really nice specimen, but this one wasn't in a training cube - she was sitting on an elevated porch somewhere, overlooking the blue ocean.  She wasn't mine.  Quan murmured and the image view moved as if we were walking around the girl in our inspection.   She was stunningly beautiful - a nice change from the dirty uneducated undernourished females that you saw on the streets of any city.  Actually, not so much undernourished as overly dependent on food that was artificial crap.   There was the small metal stud in the back of her neck, so I knew that she was set up for cognification, or psychic reprogramming, to use a more technical term.  I kept looking for the something that Quan wanted me to see.  He wouldn't have called me just to display a nice looking cunt.  Finally, I said, "Ok.  I give up.  Nice piece, but what am I missing?" "First," he answered.  "Would you believe that her actual age is six years?" What the fuck?  I looked her up and down.  She had the physical form of a female who had just reached full maturity - anywhere from sixteen to eighteen years of age.  A clone?  There was nothing startling about that.  Genetic shops had been duplicating animals of all kinds for decades.  And a human was just another kind of animal.   Well, actually, it WAS a leetle bit startling, as human cloning had been highly illegal since the turn of the century.  That didn't bother me.  Neither Quan nor I gave a crap about civil laws of that type, but...    "You plan to produce the product from scratch from now on?" He shook his head emphatically. "Hell, no.  There are way too many people on the planet already, without boosting the numbers by artificial means."  He pointed at the subject.  "She's an experiment - a prototype. She was born in a test tube and my force induced growth... ah... methods, brought her to where she is now.  She didn't wake up until about a year ago but she's highly intelligent and fairly well educated already." This was somewhat unbelievable.  The details of Quan's procedures were totally beyond me, but I knew that her education had to come from RNA injection.  It was now the basis for a large part of the cognifing procedure.  Of course, the part that ribonucleic acid played in human memory had been studied since the middle of the 20th century.   Quan's father had pioneered the use of injections for education and Quan himself had taken the procedures far beyond those early days.  In fact, as young children, several of us had been subjected to the procedures to enhance our understanding of certain skills. I shook my head and asked, "How did you manage to accelerate the process so much?  It took me a year or two before the parts came together." "Hmmm.  That is difficult to explain to a layman, but what do you know about the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex?   Or the Atkinson-Shiffrin memory model?"  He was joking.  He knew full well that I knew asymptotic zero about such things.  "Not a damn thing, thank God."  "Ok, in a nutshell, you know that we inject a set of RNA strands from another person - a math genius, for instance - into her... her...  well, the appropriate section of her brain that handles that kind of memory.  Unlike the original process used on you, Rita, Chi, Sallie and me, I parallel the procedure with an offshoot of the cognification process.  It isn't that straight forward, and she has to sort it out, but the learning only takes a few days, rather than a quarter of a lifetime of normal education - or even the year or so that it took us.  It's as though I gave you a map to a maze, but one that was ripped apart.  You would have to lay the pieces on the table and make some effort to reassemble them, but that process would be far faster than physically entering the maze to remap it yourself." He gave me some more information and I actually recognized a word here and there, but as far as I was concerned, it was all black magic.  Then... "After her next treatment, I was hoping that you would take her for a while and introduce her to the actual world.  As far as knowing how to be a woman in the outside world, she's just a little girl." "So..." I began.  "You're trying to produce a set of loyal geniuses?" "That is a good guess," he answered.  "Wrong, but a good guess." "Damn," I said.  "She's quite a step up for a shallie.  High IQ, perfect body.  Ok.  It was worth the trip."  Now I was joking.  Quan and Chi's mansion was only a few kilometers up the mountain road from ours. "Thanks for the kind words, but she isn't the reason that I asked you to come over."  He gestured and the stunning blond disappeared and was replaced by a visual of a woman in a lab coat.  "Morning, Martha."  She turned around to face us and waved.  "Did a new precursor arrive this morning?" She nodded.  "Righto.  Not exactly prime meat.  I assume that she was a capture?" "Yep.  She'll be just a no-value lab rat for the DRBDA testing.  Tell Dr. Hassam to start her immediately and let me know if she deviates significantly from the planned timeline. "Already started.  She's going though her physical patterning now.  The first course of stretch should begin in two days." ............... Historians note Cognify [cog-nee-fi]  [Linguistic weight - technical term]  Unknown derivation.  A early and primitive method of artificially altering the characteristics of a human physic. History.  Little is known of the early members of the Ngheim family.  Quan Ngheim's grandfather appears to be the precursor of the science.  During a conflict in what is now Pan-Asia, he began experiments on captured members of the opposing forces.  The early methods apparently consisted of injecting various chemicals into the subject to alter their psychologic state.  Quan's father carried the science much farther, with specially tailored drugs and electro-stimulation of the Tri-Gemnitorial nerve trunk.  But it was Quan himself, who brought the science to it's peak.  Even now, we can't duplicate his methods and results - at least, not without pre-conception genetic transformation - a procedure unknown at the time. The procedural treatment, as perfected by Quan, could completely transform an individual motivation psyche and repoint it toward a single enterprise, group, or even individual...  ...............  --------------- The next morning I had decided to stay over another day.  For one thing, Quan's residence was massively palatial and only a few kilometers away.  It was one of the dozen or so high end residences in the Enterprise holding.   His was on the same road as mine, but a couple of mountains over.   From the highway, it just appeared to be just an ordinary residence - as defined today, not fifty years ago.  In actuality, it extended into the hillside and underground.   This gave two good effects.  One, the heating and cooling, and by definition, power requirements were vastly lessened.  And second, the fact that the hillside house was actually a massive and opulent mansion was hidden from the public - a necessity back when it was built.   What the mob doesn't know, it doesn't get jealous of. Of course, trespassers weren't a problem on our island now, so neither were casual passersby.  On occasion, a person or group might wander in from around the rim on a sailboat, but was soon escorted out by our action teams.   And told not to come back. The State of Hawaii had almost become a... well, a non-State.  Several reasons worked against the islands.  First, the collapse of the tourist industry removed the only jobs that could support the population.  The waters of the Pacific had been fished out decades before, so the long history of Hawaiian fishermen was no more.  The islands had no natural energy resources, except for solar and geothermic and the financial capital wasn't available to even begin to develop those industries.  As a result of the above, and more, most people had decamped for the mainland over the years.  The four big islands had the bulk of the population of maybe a hundred thousand, all living lives not a whole lot different than before the white man came.  Well, except for the ever-present activison, still available even in a house with a grass roof. The four smaller islands were virtually empty, except for ours, and it only had a few hundred permanent citizens, all members of the Enterprise. After seeing Quan's new... invention, and the experiments that were going on with it, I wanted to think about the ramifications of the new product.  Yesterday, at my single word of query, "Stretch?," he had explained. "We've managed to separate the time extending agent from the RBDA - Green Ice.  It took us a long time because the binding receptors..."  He stopped as he remembered that I wasn't one of his lab technicians.  "Anyway, it wouldn't work before as a separate compound for various technical reasons, but we've managed to stabilize it as a standalone serum."   He picked up a small bottle and handed it to me.   It was just a vial of clear liquid to me.  "The name is DRBDA, but the staff has already nicknamed it 'Stretch.'"  He smiled and went on.  "As good a name as any.  It vastly stretches the time sense without the erotic factor of Ice." I held the bottle up and examined it.  "So... using this you can...  stretch the senses of a... say, a shallie during training?" He nodded.  "Yep.  You know that the preliminary confinement of a shallie to bring her to a state of totally sensory deprivation can take as long as six months in a strong willed individual.  Well, with this, that six months can be reduced to a week or so.   Well, that's the hope, anyway."    He pointed to a set of notes on the display.  "Thats where Judge bitch comes in.  She's definitely not here of her own accord.  If it works on her, it will be a given on a willing young cunt." Wow.  Moving the training regimen for a shallie from a year to a month would be awesome.  And very lucrative.  And, that opened some other options that I needed to think about. Nonetheless, despite my decision to hang around, I still needed to get some work done.  At the moment, I was in Chi's beautiful underground dome conservatory, relaxing on a chase lounge and busily commanding and listening to my PDU.  I had finished a video conference with the Oregon plant manager and had dictated some notes to be forwarded later.   I needed to review what my scriber program had written before I sent it out.  Many humorous - and sometimes, tragic - tales could be recited about people who trusted an electronic secretary to convert speech to text and neglected to check what it had written.  Like most businessmen, I far preferred to read something than listen or watch the same thing from a recording.  Text allowed for much faster input since I could read much faster than someone could talk.  I was just forming the command to start, when two soft objects descended on either side of my head.  Then a batch of long red hair fell in front of my eyes and I knew who belonged to the wonderful tits warming my ears.  I jumped up and embraced the red topped barbie doll.  I had no real idea what that term meant, but I had heard it many times applied to both Rita and her mother.  Once we finished a sloppy session of exchanging tongues, I asked, "Where did you come from?" She led me over to the couch, and we both sat down, my hands making sure that her upper parts were still the same as when I last saw her, several days ago.  "Chi called and invited me.  I needed a break, so here I am." "Are you going home, or going back?" "Back.  I wanted a break, besides, I need to brief you and the folks on something.  And Quan and Chi also."  At this point, our hosts entered the room, after decorously waiting for us to finish our welcoming embraces.  There followed a session of talk-talk no different than that of any close friends on meeting again.  Then, Rita got down to business. "We have a problem coming up and the curve is just about to reach the sigma node.  The tensors around finite K are showing to be..."  She stopped and looked at Chi, who was silently chuckling to herself.  "Sorry," she apologized with a laugh. "I've been surrounded by math geeks for months and I guess it shows, huh?" She stood up.  "It can wait.  Besides, we need to key the folks into the loop." -------------- Later "On the close order of seventeen years," said Chi with a frown.  "That soon?  That doesn't leave much time..." There were eleven of us in Quan's lounge.  Four of us were actually there, although anyone standing in the doorway would barely be able to tell which of the six were several kilometers away.  Quan's parents had already passed on - he had come along very late in their lives.  Both mine and Rita's parents had also delayed our arrivals, being well in their forties when we were born, but both sets were alive and well, and were attending via the activision monitor.  After a short time, the fact that over half of our party was really just 3-D images receded into invisibility and we were just a family having a group chat.  Sallie had joined us from her mountain side chalet also, but was busy interfacing with her computers rather than joining in.  It wasn't rudeness - her mind could run two simultaneous processes and we knew that she was fully listening to our conversation and would interject if she had something to say.    Despite the fact that some of us were celebrating birthdays in the '80's, the average observer would have automatically assumed that this was a meeting of young adults.  Or, at least, early middle age persons. Since they were ungodly expensive and not available to the general public,  Rejuve techniques were technically illegal - laws having been passed against such non-democratic procedures.  Most statutes pertaining to services now had the basis of, "if everyone can't have it, then no one can have it."  Naturally, something that valuable couldn't be repressed and was available to anyone with the money - lots of money.  Or to a politically connected individual as "research into making it available for the masses."   The Rejuve process was Chi's specialty.  Our four parents had had the procedures and it showed.  Not that they could have passed for teenagers - rejuve didn't turn back the clock - but as eighty year olds, they barely looked to be in their forties.  Rita's mother, Margarita, was still the most desirable female that I had ever laid eyes on, with the exception of her look-alike daughter.  I might even have asked for a cohabitation week with her if it wasn't for the fact that Rita's father was the deadliest militant in recent history.  As a boy, I listened with wide eyes as his men recited the stories - sanitized for a youngster, of course - of the bodies left behind after some of his escapades.  The stories got bigger as they were told over the years, but if the tales were even close to true, then her father had burned down a whole city and hacked his way through hordes of bad guys to rescue Rita's mother from the clutches of a warlord. "Rittette.   Are you predicting a catabolic or endemic collapse?"  This was from Jean - a native Frenchman and an intimate friend of both our families.   As to calling my woman "Rittette," he always used the French diminutive when referring to the younger Rita, just to prevent confusion with her mother.  Rita replied.  "Either, Jean.  So far we don't have a good set of predictive parameters either way.  But, I guarantee that it is on the top of our list." "Ok.  Back it up and explain the terms."  This was Rodger, Rita's father.  A trim and lithe woman followed with, "And please keep the math to a minimum, Rittette."  The eighty year old assassin was lucky to be here.  Her home had been at a Middle Eastern desert oasis, but, on the day of the Great Intifada, she had luckily been visiting Jean in his Paris mansion.  Otherwise, she would now be be a bare - and radioactive - skeleton in the middle of several million square kilometers of wasteland. "Ok, Katja."  Rita looked at the top of the desk, a monitor outline appeared in the glossy surface, along with some incomprehensible formulas. Bill, my Father, spoke up.  "I assume that the reason for the prediction is that you can no longer control the sociological direction of the multitude?" "Correct."  Rita brought up a graph. "Dad started the science of socio-prediction, and, back then, with a resource rich country and far less population, his team learned to steer the country in certain general directions.  Had he not, then we would be living in a totally repressive socialism today."  The graph changed.  "But, as natural materials and energy sources dwindled, and with the massive increase of population, the natural counter forces of society are beginning to overcome any conceivable steering commands we can issue." "Think of it as child riding a wagon down an ever increasing slope.  At the beginning of the ride, he can slow himself, change directions, take time to look for the best route.  But as it gets steeper, he has to spend more time in just trying to hang on and steer without over turning.  Eventually, he's going so fast that he's just along for the ride and can just hold on and go where gravity takes him." "Rodger elected a President with a support staff of less than twenty and a few congnified shallies, or whatever they were called back then.  We now have to engage hundreds just to pass or stop a new law.  And it isn't going to improve.  Overpopulation is the problem, of course.  This country and a few other tier one countries have at least come close to a zero growth, but we aren't dropping the number any.  And, we're just a drop in the bucket to the uncontrolled birthrate of most of the rest of the world." Rita looked at the top of the desk, a display outline appeared in the glossy surface, along with some incomprehensible formulas.  "If the trend becomes catabolic, then enough people will die fast enough to bring the population down to a stable level.  Or at least a density where problems can spread out enough not to stimulate each other.  Think of the Black Plague in Europe in 1350.  Not that the survivors had a pleasant time in the aftermath, but the problem of suffocating masses was gone for the next two hundred years." Another display formed and she continued.  "If we get an endemic drop, then people will just die off at a steady rate, the oldest, youngest and weakest going first, then the less aged and not so young and so forth.  That would be a definite problem and society will probably come apart at the seams and recover at a much lower level than the first prediction." "Dark ages?"  This from Teema, my mother. She nodded.  "But, as bad as it would be, in some ways the result could be better than the catabolic collapse.  In this case the level of civilization would drop so low that it would be much easier for a mentor group to guide the survivors into the future.  Think of the Capitalists in Rand's novel, Atlas Shrugged.  The problem would be to survive the chaos." Suddenly, Rita's mother stood up and signed to us.  She was a mute - a result of the kidnapping by the above mentioned warlord.  But, her loss of voice had no permanent effect on her outlook on life.  There had never been a happier concubine in history - she was the willing slave of my Father, even though she had more freedom and authority than most wealthy wives.   As far as the fate of the warlord that took her voice, well... I had heard at least six different stories of how Rodger had sent the man back to his old haunts - without his balls.  Some even claimed, without his dick. "We've been at this for six hours," the fiery haired beauty signed.  "We can continue this after some sustenance." --------------- Quan and Chi's lounge Quan and I were relaxing on the chaise lounges, naked girls serving each of us.  Rita and Chi had gone off somewhere - probably to do each other.  Everyone else had taken their leave.  I was munching on some finger food with one hand, and exploring a ravishing brunette with the other.  Quan was doing the same, although he had a shallie on either side and both of his hands were busy exploring inside and out.  That required the girls to feed him.  I was trying to decide whether to do this girl, or wait for Rita.  I needed relief badly, but if they weren't...  Suddenly, both of the women back came into the lounge. "That didn't take long," I said.  I doubted that they had had sex - they hadn't been gone nearly long enough.  I knew that when the two friends enjoyed each other, it was in girl fashion - slow and unhurried.  Rita popped the brunette on the butt and gestured with her thumb to beat it, then sat down beside me.  "We weren't slitting," she said.  "Chi wanted to show me her latest collectors item."  I saw comprehension suddenly dawn on Quan's face. "Wait till you see it," he grinned.  "Whatever 'it' is, can wait.  I can't, sweetie."  I pulled the tab on Rita's gown and it fell away.  I grabbed hold of her two firm globes and said with some urgency,  "Right now I want to get inside of your..." She held me away with a hand.  "Hang on a minute, honey.  After you see this, you'll want it even more."    What the fuck was this?  "See what?" She pointed over my shoulder and I looked around at young man entering the lounge.  Rita almost never kept male shallies, but Chi always had one or more in residence.  This one was young and handsome, without a doubt, but I was totally convex - male bodies had no erotic effect on me.  Rita well knew this, so why would... I stopped as my eyes opened wide.  Son of a fucking bitch!  I looked over at Quan in mild disbelief but he immediately responded.  "Don't look at me!  I didn't make him.  That gear is totally natural." The young man was sporting the largest wang and hangers that I had ever seen.  His meat dangled almost to his knees and was as thick as an average woman's forearm.  And his balls would have barely fit in a half liter jar.  Male junk did nothing for me, but this was awesome.  I looked at Rita with a question on my face. She shook her head.  "Nope, I haven't tried it.  I don't want to be stretched that much." Chi motioned to a shallie in the corner, then gave a hand signal.  She handed the girl two small pills - the designer drug called RBDA, the acronym for the hundred credit medical word that the world knew as "Green Ice."  The search for an aphrodisiac had been in progress for thousands of years, without success.  Ambergris, oysters, spanish fly, ginseng - all these and far more were used and sworn to by generations of men and women.  Few people would believe the scientific studies that proved, over and over, that the effects of these pseudo sex enhancers were in the user's minds, not their bodies.   Even the erectile disfunction drugs made available at the end of the twentieth century had no real erotic effect on a normal male, however much they might allow him to keep it hard - but, again, few users would believe that.  In fact, no actual sexual performance enhancing item or drug was ever found to be more effective than a placebo. Until the advent of the family of Ngheim and their experiments.  Using modern biochemical techniques, and with an intimate knowledge of the human nervous system, Quan's father had made the first effective aphrodisiac.  Quan took it even farther as modern techniques allowed for the fabrication of chemicals at the nano level.  Green Ice didn't enhance a person's sexual performance, per se.  For example, it didn't suddenly enable a forty year old user to orgasm three and four times a night as if he or she was eighteen years of age.  And the eighteen year old couldn't do it any more often than if he/she hadn't taken the drug.   Rather, it worked directly on the dopamine receptors of the brain and modified the time sense of the user.  Under the influence of the green liquid - or somewhat less intense, pill - time stretched - and stretched - and stretched.  A quick slam-bam session, with the drug, would seem like an hour of ever mounting erotic bliss.  A normal session of sex, could last for hours and hours in the user's mind.  In addition, every sense was enhanced to feed the erotic climb to orgasm - sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste, imagination.  Needless to say, the governments of the world were thrilled to make freely available, an elixir that helped the populace forget the fact that their standard of living was descending into the sewer. The pair each swallowed the pills, then the girl immediately lay down on her back and spread her legs in the usual female preparation.  Apparently, this shallie had never had this particular meat - I could see some mild apprehension on her face before the drug began to take effect.  The boy waited until another shallie lubed his dick with something out of a tube, then knelt down between her legs.   Since his hard was so heavy it could never get stiff enough to support itself, he had to hold it as he aimed it at the opening between her legs.  It touched, then he slowly began to push.  The girl grimaced as her pussy lips were pushed aside further than they had ever been.  It was almost like a reverse childbirth.  Apparently, either the boy was of a gentle nature, or had been warned not to deliberately hurt a girl, since he very slowly entered the passage, trying to make the entrance as easy as possible.  Finally, the head disappeared, and her stretching ceased.  More quickly now he pushed in.  I wondered if the feeling when he impacted her cervix would be painful or erotic but the girl now had her hands on his buttocks and was pulling him in of her own accord. At some point he hit bottom and began a slow and steady stroke.  It appeared from my vantage point, that his meat had actually stretched her hole so far that it was actually rubbing on her clit.  This girl hadn't yet had the vaginoplasty reconstruction - another item available only to wealthy women, or high prices shallies for sale - so her little fun button was in the normal place.  She was no longer in pain and kept trying to hurry him up with her hands.  It was to no avail - he just kept up his slow and steady stroke.  I knew that by now, in their minds, both of them had been screwing for far longer than the actual couple of minutes they had been at it. At this point, his dick wasn't the only hard in the room.  Mine was just about the quality of tool steel and desperately trying to get me to stop watching and start pumping, also.   Quan had obviously known about the boy, but a short glance at him showed me that the erotic performance was affecting him the same as me.  Even the idle shallies were watching wide eyed.   As for Rita, her nipples were rock hard marbles - she was, no doubt, imagining herself in the place of the prone shallie and receiving the pumping of her life. By now the girl was in the last stages of erotic bliss.   Sweating profusely, moaning and legs thrashing behind the boy's back, she went off like a bomb.  From the shrunken state of the boy's huge nuts, I could tell that he was about to fill her up.  He did, then collapsed on his partner. I opened my mouth to comment, my woman popped a pill in my mouth, then pushed me back onto the divan.  Rita rose over me, tits swinging over my chest and quickly empaled herself on my steel rod.  "Don't you dare unload until you get me started," she warned.  Despite the threat, I was just about to empty my nuts into her, when she reached behind my neck and pushed a nerve.  The sudden desperate urge went away, replaced with a need to just move my dick in and out. Long before my parents married, my mother, Teema, had attended an elite academy in Europe.  This establishment specialized in - and in fact, was world famous for - turning out exquisitely trained courtesans.  My mother apparently had an innate ability for the art.  She had graduated as one of the most accomplished practitioners of sex in the world and still wore the blue silk neckband that indicated her assent to the top of the pyramid.  I obviously had no direct experience with her ability, other than watching on occasion, but I knew that offers for her companionship still came in from wealthy individuals around the world. As Rita was growing up, and later, when Chi came to the States, my mother took them under her tutelage for training in the erotic arts.  The two younger girls didn't, of course, receive the same intensive training that their mentor had gotten from the academy, but by the time I began to have an erotic relationship with Rita, she could make otherwise sexy street girls seem like plastic manikins.   Teema taught her intensively on the practice of manipulating the nervous system of a male - or a female for that matter.  Just using her hands and fingers to push here and rub there and poke this, she could cool her partner down, or hold them at a given stimulated state, or change them instantly into a blindly rutting groin. As Rodger had joked many times, Teema could teach a woman how to squeeze the balls of a brass monkey till they hurt.  I have no idea what the significance of that particular metal statue is, but I well understood his meaning. No Green Ice for us.  We never used it unless it was a day of relaxation.  Unlike a normal bout of sex, where the aftermath is just a few minutes of cuddling and relaxing, after a session of Quan's miracle margarita, as I called it, the pair was wasted for the rest of the day.  Even though the act only lasted the normal time to a watching outsider, the bodies of the participants considered that they had been working as long as the mind thought they had.  In other words, most people just collapsed and slept for hours afterward. Rather, we used the denatured version of the aphrodisiac, usually referred to as just plain 'Ice.'  This was the same sexual perception enhancing drug, but without the time stretching effects.  Unlike its full effects sister drug, this one let the participants down with an enjoyable glow, rather than a wrung out, wasted crash. Anyway, with her monitoring the level of our lust, we both climbed the slope and exploded together, collapsing beside each other in a sweaty heap.  Raising my head to look over her, I could see Quan and Chi just about to blow off together also.  In their case, they were in the spoon position and facing away from us.  From experience, I knew that Chi had as much ability in the art as Rita.   Yes, my mother was an excellent teacher. ............... Historians note Green Ice [gren ahyse']  [Linguistic weight - technical term]  Slang for Receptor Binding Dopamine Agonist.  A formulaic drug meant to stimulate the limbic system in particular and the ultradian cell clusters in general.  History.  Throughout the record of civilization, humanity had constantly searched for chemical compounds to alter the normal states of the brain.  Alcohol was the more prevalent drug up until about the twentieth century, when large number of both natural and artificial compounds were produced, many of a disabling nature and some that could have fatal consequences.  Most were illegal when not dispensed by official and trained personnel in the medical profession. Dr. Thao Ngheim, and later, his son, Dr. Quan Ngheim produced the first actual drug that would stimulate the human sexual experience.  The technical detail is beyond this series of notes, but the advent of the drug had several important historical effects.   First, it has been suggested that without the introduction of the pharmaceutic, the disintegration of the world society would have happened shortly after the petrochemical industry collapse.  The time stretching effects of the drug relieved much social pressure by by giving the masses of people extended times of escape from the constant inflow of unwelcome events and news.  It managed to stabilize society, albeit somewhat chaotically. Second, it destroyed the suffocating blanket of the agathokakological meaning that hundreds of years of religion had cast over the act of procreation and sexual recreation.  The vastly overused term, "Sexual Revolution," was in fact, accurate in this instance.  Obscenity and sexual statutes were destroyed virtually overnight, and in more conservative areas that still held resistance in removing the laws, were either completely ignored or made impotent by the liberated younger populace.  Finally, religious organizations sprang up that were the antithesis of the mainstream faiths.  The older organizations fought the sexual freedoms to the last ditch, but as the old generations died off, so did the old faiths.  As for young people with spiritual tendencies, the choice between attending once-a-week services and listening to lectures centered on religious dogma, or entering a temple that worshiped spiritually by handing out Green Ice and soft mats was no choice at all. Studies have indicated that... ...............  -------------- The next day Rita headed back to her lab and I started for the training facilities.   I drove unhurriedly, enjoying the lush vegetation on both sides of the empty, but well maintained road.  My little bubble car didn't have much speed, but the view through the teardrop canopy was unrestricted.  Before the collapse, isolated places like our island were the only small spots in the world where humanity hadn't intruded, usually destroying the balance of nature by their intrusion.   One good feature of the collapse - at least from the standpoint of Mother Nature - was that large areas of the world were rapidly returning to wilderness.  What used to be called the Third World had been in the process of growing out of their primitive and non-technologic societies and into a state closer to the developed economies of the world.  But, the collapse of the energy industry had stopped that development in its tracks.  Overpopulation had been the main problem of those countries even at the time, but now the failure to get the annual increase of their teeming masses under control had doomed them to perpetual impoverishment.  Except for the rich few that all countries had. North America was different - somewhat.  We had finally gotten the population stabilized - by the spilling of much political blood over several decades - but not until it had reached over a billion.  Those masses were much better off than the packed humanity in the lower tier countries, but only in degree.   Virtually all lived in one of the six strip cities that striped the country.  Our old headquarters had been in a high-rise tower in a city called Dallas.   That city and building still existed, but was part of a megalopolis that that stretched from the Atlantic ocean to about halfway across the state before it petered out in the desert.  Barely twenty kilometers wide at the max, it followed the old Interstate Highway system - now a crumbling stretch of concrete - and was now fed by the linear power grid.  There were two more east-west, and three north-south megalopolitan strip cities in the country. All in all, holding over a billion citizens.  Outside of these thin ribbons of civilization was pure rural wilderness, spotted with a few small towns near sources of hydro or geothermal power production.  In the sunshine states, there were some small and medium sized towns that were pure solar.  Most rural areas were completely inaccessible without having access to a balloon tired electric all terrain vehicle - or hiking - the roads being overgrown and nothing more than paths.   Of course, to own such a vehicle required astronomical fees, licenses, and lots of palm grease.  Not to mention that just the cost itself was more than most people would make in a lifetime. Without power or utilities of any kind, except for what the enterprising individual could build for himself, rural homesteads were few and far between.  Actually, most dwellings outside of the cities were illegal, since the builder had to find the materials on the sly.  All building supplies of any kind were strictly controlled and the ration police were not inclined to allow an individual to purchase anywhere near the amount of material required to build an off grid and unlicensed home.  There was also the fact that ninety nine and some odd percent of the population couldn't afford to build a dollhouse, let alone a dwelling.  The basic living ration was a cube of eighteen square meters each - of course, with metered water, power and, as a legal requirement, a full wall sized activision appliance.  Thus did the teeming masses live their lives - not traveling much beyond their immediate neighborhoods, but able to roam the world via their interactive connections - when they weren't engaged in intercourse under the influence of the green miracle drug. The training facilities were the largest conglomeration of buildings on the island.  They could hold hundreds inductees in all stages of being cognified.  Someone had seen the boss driving up, because Dr. Hassam met me as I climbed out of my bubble car.  "Greetings, John."  He looked in the vehicle for another possible person.  "Quan told us you were coming and to wait till you got here." I shook my head.  "This is part of a complicated escape plan.  I had to get away from Sallie and her data and Rita with her math lingo."  A joke, of course.  I was really here to see the results of Quan's new drug.  "Show me see what's happening with the new subject."  I slapped him on the shoulder and he led the way into the round building and down a long hallway to a large lab.  Actually, it wasn't a lab so much as a massive viewing center.  Here, the patients were monitored and new commands to their implants given.  We entered an occupied viewing booth and he both waved and spoke some commands.  The wall dissolved into the view of a girl - woman, actually - in a standard sensory deprivation egg.  It was my previous nemesis, the Honorable State Judge Carmin Lowry. I had been well trained, not only in ways of the world by my father, but also by Rita's father in... well, the only category that I can call it, is as a Soldier-of-Fortune perspective.   Sort of a a combination of the 'One for All and All for One' loyalty oath of the Three Musketeers, and the saying attributed to Genghis Khan of 'Leave No Enemies Behind You'.  It was a very successful amalgamation.  The Enterprise was a tightly knit organization that had never been betrayed by a member. Judge Carmin's presence was a result of the Genghis Khan rule.   She had become a thorn in our side almost immediately upon ascending to the bench.  Actually, not just us, but anyone with money or assets that she could get her legal hands on.  In any civil case, no matter what the facts or evidence, she always found against the entity with credit.  She even bragged about it at conferences and interviews.  Her mission, as she saw it, was to redistribute the wealth that was being privately and antisocially withheld from the deserving public.  Very large amounts of wealth.  OUR wealth. We waited until she had looted several businesses after our last run-in with her, just to put some time separation from our last interaction with the court and what we were planning.   One stormy evening, on her way home from the courthouse, she was intercepted by one of our action teams...   Her demeanor had changed back to bitch, from resigned.  I assume that she was hoping that her lofty status in the political hierarchy might impress whomever might now be watching.  She was yelling more threats - I guess they were threats.  The sound was off but her mouth was definitely moving. Dr. Hassam was standing with his arm folded and watching.  Looking over at me, he said, "We're going to start."  It was more of a question than a statement, but I had no reason to interfere with a medical procedure.   I just nodded. He pointed to a young woman sitting at a console.  She nodded and began to key in a command.  Medical equipment was still controlled by hardwired keyboards.  There was too much chance of a verbal command being garbled and causing havoc on the other end.  A half dozen technicians were also watching, ready to note and record any reactions. Nothing visible was happening, besides the subject stalking back and forth, but I knew that the implant on her neck was now injecting minute amounts of this new 'Stretch' drug - and others - into her system.   There was a thin chain around her waist and short chains connected both it and her wrists.  This was to keep her from tearing at the object that she could feel behind her neck.  In a day or so the pain of the insertion would go away and not be a continual irritation to her. Suddenly, her movement stopped and she just stood there looking at the white wall of the egg.  Then, slowly, she just sat down on the floor, still staring into space.  That was the extent of the action.  For the next fifteen minutes nothing changed. Dr. Hassam suddenly spoke.  "That's all you're going to see today, John.  Her mind is living at a far faster pace than her body.  It's just a guess, but to her, she has been sitting there already for five or six hours.  If you..." "Doctor."  This was the girl at the console.  She pointed to a graph being displayed in the upper corner of the image we were watching. "The vertices are diverting under the incident line.  It isn't large, but it's significant."  Now everybody in the room was looking at the graph and the scrolling number all around it.  Of course, I was the only one in the room that had no idea what the problem was.   There was some quick discussion, in which I recognized two or three words, then the Doctor said, "It's a leukocyte reaction."  Several nodded.  So did I, just to feel a part of the team.  "Increase the the PCO2 by three percent." Several minutes later I saw the two lines cease their slow diverging.  A young man said, "Raising the pH should bring it back." The Doctor nodded and ordered, "Bring it up to seven point four."   Shortly there was a general relaxing in the room and some more incomprehensible discussion.  To my querying look, he said.  "An expected anomaly.  It usually takes a day or so to totally stabilize the injections to her body chemistry." -------------- As the Doctor and his team were monitoring their new experiment, I stepped to the far side of the room to an empty console.  I picked another subject at random. She was chained by the four extremities and her neck to the wall - not stretched, but definitely without much slack.  This girl, I knew without even bothering to look at her records, was being cognified into a submissive bondage 'Patra.   Around the world, many men - and women - were devotees of domination.  Our auctions, and our straight sales, were usually composed of a least a third of women and a few men who were not only trained in the art of submission, but had had their psyches permanently repointed to crave the subjection.   For myself, I certainly enjoyed a submissive female very often since I was born with my father's lifelong dedication to the sexual art form.   He had started with a... well, sort of spa for women who wanted to be dominated, and one that grew to be the basis of his fortune.  But even before that hobby/business, as a young man just craving sex, as all young men do, he was practicing bondage with certain girl friends.   He still had a several of his old bond girls - now much older as he was, but the rejuve process had kept them fairly young looking and very desirable.  That isn't to say that he didn't enjoy a fresh young shallie on occasions.   And the occasions were frequent.  Most shallies that had 'graduated' were taken into the home of an Enterprise member for a month or of monitoring, to be certain that the cognification had taken hold.  It happened very seldom, but the process had been known to subvert the subject into a craving for ultimate submission, i.e. death by punishment.  On even rarer occasions the shallie would suddenly just become another person, morphing into an imaginary character, usually from an activision story.   In both cases, the person had to be reprogrammed in a long and intensive ordeal - both for the subject and the lab team. The girl in my view had light red marks across her midriff.  She had been whipped in the last day or so.  Nowhere near hard enough to damage her, of course, but just to the point that pain turned into pleasure.  Eventually, at the end of her 'education,' she would be able to not only take severe punishment, but both crave and enjoy it. I scrolled through a double handful of subjects, just casually inspecting my future merchandise.   The girls were beautiful, the guys were handsome - I guessed, not really being an expert on the male subject.  In a short while, I headed for home. -------------- Later As I drove up, I saw Sallie's little electric three wheeler parked in my driveway.  Knowing her, she probably hadn't gone home since I left.  She cared less where she physically was, as long as she wasn't out of reach of her beloved AI machines. "Hey, Sallie!  Wazzzon?"  She gave a cry of surprise, jumped up from the desk, then hurried over to give me a big smack on the lips.  Unlike me, in my traveling stretches, she was wearing the usual almost nothing that was normal in private homes.  "Let me show you the indices on the Pacific floater..."  She stopped as I put my fingers to her lips, then reached down to tweak both exposed nipples.  "Relax, my little bumpy calculator.  I've been listening to one report after another for days - some of them I almost understood.  Rest now - business later." "Ok, Boss."  At that I really pinched the pair.  "Ooooh"  She looked around behind me.  "Where's Rita?"   "At the lab, again." She nodded and said, "You need to look at the equipment that Quan sent over," holding her palms over her nipples for protection from my thumbs and fingers.  "It's in the sky lounge." --------------- Sky lounge  I stopped by the kitchen for a glass of limeade and a couple of cookies, then headed for the top floor.  I was already planning the changes that I would have to make in the business side of our enterprise if Quan's new procedure actually succeeded in cutting the training time by a factor of ten.  I would need...  need...   What the fuck? I stopped in the doorway and stared.  Not at the scenery, which was vast enough.  The glassed-in room had a two hundred and seventy degree vista that stretched for tens of kilometers.  Since my house wasn't quite at the top of the mountain, the remaining side faced the gently rising hillside up another two hundred feet.  I sow none of that.  What I did see was a totally naked female standing at a window looking down the mountainside.  I knew that she was the clone that Quan had made in his lab.  Come to think of it, he did ask if I would take her home for a while to let her get accustomed to the fact that there was a world outside of the underground house she had "grown up" in.  He obviously had sent her over. She heard me come in.  Since everything else about her was perfect, it was no big stretch to assume that her hearing was also superlative.  "Good afternoon, Mr. John," she greeted with a smile.   Even her voice was melodious.  Jeez.  Maybe Quan SHOULD start making females wholesale.  This one was worth ten - a hundred - of the overfed, undernourished skanks on the outside. I finally found my voice.  "Just John will do.  How are you called?" "My name is Neferteema."  What the fuck?  Teema was the name of my mother.  I began to suspect that something was inherent in this girl that I didn't know about.  "Do you know why you are here?" I asked.   I hoped so.  Somebody needed to know. She smiled again and nodded.  She might be a semi robot, but so far she could pass as a real...  I stopped that line of thought.  I knew that she was as human as I was.  Only her method of birth and lack of childhood was different.  "I am here for my own edification as to the environment external to the locus in which I was educated." Ok.  Maybe a little more than human.  Her diction was perfect, but her ten credit words would make her totally non-understandable on the street.   "Did Dr. Quan tell you how to do that here?" "No.  He intimated that the literati in this habitation would tutor myself in the proper functions of a sardanapalian female." I blinked.  She had a better chance of being understood outside if she spoke Swahili.  Even I barely understood that last sentence.  "Uh... Neferteema..."  I stopped, wondering how to state the problem.  "You have an obvious grasp of the American language that few others have.  We'll need to lower the word value of your vocabulary." "I am speaking the lexeme value at a level of 21.  Would you like me to lower it?" I nodded.  "It would help for you to be understood on the outside." "Yah, hoosa," she replied.  "It's truf. Yo need it wattsup?  Maybe fo downside is bangupgone.  Izzie?" I stood there for a few seconds, almost in befuddlement, then said, "Come up a little.  Try for plain educated American." "Dr. Quan said that you were his best friend and that you would assist me in becoming a sophisticated human female."  Wow.  That was better.  Son of a bitch.  Just how high of an IQ did this beautiful blond have?  She continued,  "Would you like to fornicate with me?" "What?" "Would you like to..." I held my hand up.  "No. No. I meant... I mean...  You were trained in sexual activities?" "Yes.  My instruction included a multitude of techniques of vaginal, oral, anal, manual, stimulative, reflexonistic, transcutaneious... "Ok OK OK!  I got it.  You know how to screw." "Screw is an ancient term for sexual intercourse, normally of a penile and vaginal interaction. I am not sure of the philological roots of the term, but I know many techniques to make a man reach his optimal orgasmic plateau even without such interaction." Holy shit.  This blond was a walking encyclopedia cube.   Over an activision, with the visual off, she could pass as a fifty year old college professor, but never in hell as a normal young woman in public. I started again.  "Is your function to be a sexual consort?" "I do not know what my function is to be.  I was told that I would be informed by the persons in this establishment." I gave up.  I would wait until I talked with Quan to figure what the hell was the deal with her.  I noticed that her implant stud was gone, and in its place was just a small round bandage.  So, she was finished with her repointing, or whatever had been done to her.  Meanwhile... "Ok." I said, started to remove my shorts.  "Let's see what you have."  Actually, that was a ridiculous statement.  I could see EVERYTHING that she had, and she had it all.  She was almost too perfect looking. "Should I inform your female other that we are going to engage in coitus?"  What?  "Why do you ask?" She smiled again and said, "I understand that some mates may be antagonized by another individual engaging in sexual activities with their significant other.  It  has been known to cause harm to a relationship.  The terms for it are adultery, infidelity, cheating..." I waved her lecture to a stop.  If nothing else, she could be a human dictionary. Sex, nudity, spouse swapping, public intercourse, perversions, all of those things that were either hidden or taboo in my parent's younger days were now just normal daily functions.  Even now, most mature people would seldom have sex in public, but if they did, it was their business.   Rita and I had listened in disbelief to the tales of men being imprisoned for asking for sex from a woman, or a young couple being blacklisted for life just because the two of them had coitus with each other, with one or both being on the wrong side of an arbitrary age limit.  There was even a time when homosexual activity could get you jailed.  And historians think that OUR society is degenerating?  Strange. Sex was not only a major entertainment feature of people's lives, it was second only to flopping in front of the activision and being entertained.  Actually, since most activision fare was pure pornographic,  I guess you might say that sex and AV were one and the same. Neferteema was absolutely free of the sin of Eve.  To her, even more than young people today, sex was a natural as breathing.  She might know that certain sexual behaviors might seem inappropriate to some individuals, but she would never understand why. This little girl had a lot of learning to do, and it might as well start now. "No.  For your edification..." Shit.  Now she had me chucking out ten credit words.  "...sophisticated couples like Rita and myself, or Quan and Chi, do not regard the act of sex to be exclusive to the pair." She nodded.  "Noted.  How would you like to perform the act of copulation?"  Hmmmm.  I was going to have to help her readjust her vocabulary quite a bit.  But that would come over time.  "I'll let you decide.  Does your body respond to Ice?"  I knew it did - she was human in body, even if her mind was more like one of Sallie's AI machines. "Yes.  I enjoy the enhancement it brings."  So be it.  I handed her a pill and took one myself. The next hour was a blur.  I would be happy to describe it, but it was... well, indescribable.   Neferteema was the human version of Green Ice.  I don't even remember the actual intercour...  ah, the hell with nice descriptions.  The fucking that went on.  She would push, and pull and touch, and knead - push this nerve and jab that muscle and massage that tendon and...   I would bounce up and down from a pleasantly erotic state to rutting so badly I could feel my nuts contracting into an iron dense compact.   When I was about to unload - and desperately wanting to - trying to with every mental push I could give - pleading with some evil deity to shove me over the edge - she would bring me back down to a steady level.  Over and over.  Finally, at least an hour later, she climbed on top - presumably with my dick in her cunt - and we exploded together in a massive red tinted detonation.  --------------- Later I opened my eyes and looked at the ceiling.  Something had... "Were you that tired?"  It was Rita and Sallie, looking down at me. "What?  No, I just...  slipped off, I guess."  I rose up and put my feet over the edge of the couch.  Gawd!  My body felt like I had tripped and rolled all the way down the mountainside.  I just sat there with a stare, thinking about what had just happened.  Or had happened earlier... sometime...  "What time is it?" "Almost 18:00." replied Rita. "17:57" said Sallie at the same time.  The word 'about' wasn't even in her vocabulary. Son of a bitch.  I had been out for three hours.  And where was Nefer? Sallie asked, "Are you ok?  Should I call Quan or Chi to look at you?" "No. No."  I patted the sofa on both sides of me.  "Sit down."  I suddenly realized that Rita wasn't really here.  She was in the room as a 3-D image.  I proceeded to tell them of my adventures in erotic land and of the new - hell, what WAS Neferteema?  Not a colleague of the inner circle, certainly not a shallie.  Anyway, of the new... resource that we now seemed to have. They listened in... well, not disbelief, since we never, ever prevaricated to each other  ...but in astonishment, I guess.  Rita asked, "So Quan is trying to produce a... what?  A super shallie?  An ultimate 'Patra? I shook my head, feeling the sore muscles in my neck.  "I don't know.  Quan was very mysterious about her function." Sallie had been sitting there, staring out into the distance, her synapses almost audibly clicking as she processed my information.  She said, "I don't know what she's for, but I can give you an 89 percent probability of what she is." Rita and I looked at her, waiting. "First off, Quan wasn't very subtle.  Her name is Teema with a prefix. Surprise.  Your mother's name.  The woman, who, by the way, has the most intuitive and practical sexual ability on the planet.  And Rita and I know that for a personal fact, even if you don't."  She raised her eyebrows, waiting for us to realize what she was getting at.  Suddenly, it hit us both what she was saying. We both started to exclaim, then broke off.  "You mean to say that Quan, took...  trained Nefer with... with..." She nodded.  "Quan has injection trained Neferteema with your mother's RNA."  She waited for that to sink in, then...  "Your mother is an attractive woman, but still just a normal female, albeit with unmatched skills in sex.  Nefer is a young girl with a body that is perfect in every way.  It was constructed to be the epitome of what every male thinks a woman should look like.  And, as far as that goes, what every female would kill to look like." "Now, think of the two attributes combined in one person.  What do you have?" --------------- Sallie's office I was standing and looking out at the crowd.  Well, not exactly a crowd, but two dozen or so individuals, all dressed differently according to the culture that they were in.   Mostly men, but a couple of women. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we are all here.  We will start."  I nodded to Sallie, sitting in a lounger out of view of the audience.  Our customers weren't really in the room, of course, even though a person would have to walk over and actually collide with the activision screen to prove it.  Rather, we were all connected via our personal data networks - quantum encrypted beyond any possible chance of eavesdropping.  Sallie spoke into her PDU and suddenly a girl appeared in front of me.  Nude, young and beautiful.  She wasn't there either, of course, being several kilometers away at the training facility, but her image on the, until now, transparent acti-screen was as lifelike to me as to my viewers. "Lot number PC14254."  Sallie spoke again and a packet was sent to each person in the audience giving a complete history and training log of the girl. It also appeared on my monitor and I just casually perused it... Item - 'Patra Cognified number 14254CFA Female - 17 yrs, Basic Caucasian, height 165 centimeters, weight 52.3 kilograms Brunette, brown eyes, complexion 94% white. Racial makeup - Caucasian - 82%, Negroid - 9%, Oriental - 7%, Arabid - 2% DNA summary type CFTna5 Native to North America Submissive level of 47 Bondage tolerance 8 Sexual training level - yellow silk Bisexual Tattoos - none Piercings - ears, nipples, inner labia ... and more Vagina width, anal width, nipple dimensions, breast weight, size and shape, throat training level, dancing ability, singing ability, pain response, bladder size... ... and even more Defects, moles, skin anomalies, teeth condition, medical history, allergies, inoculations, fertility setting, orgasm ability, nipple sensitivity, Green Ice index... ...and so on. "Please submit your bids, now."  I walked over to Sallie as she was waiting for the input to appear.  The girl was going through her routine, walking, turning, bending - following orders from her handler off screen.  Quickly, the offers began to be posted.  Sallie spoke up for the first time.  "I have a leading offer of two thousand kilograms of Columbian coffee beans." Then shortly  "I have an acceptable offer of 42 kilograms of chromium, 99 percent fine." Since before my adulthood, the governments of the world had moved their respective currencies to a virtual model.  All funds flowed though the controlled banking system.  If I wanted to buy a new set of stretches for cool weather, I would find the item at a store on the big island or, more likely, on line, and then pay for it with my PDU.  The credits would flow into the government bank, the virtual serial numbers for each credit would be checked and logged, then assigned to the entity that had sold me the merchandise, minus taxes.  Cheating on taxes and income had been an impossibility world wide for decades.  My father had showed me some of the special coupons that had one time been used in the stream of trade.  I never did quite understand what kept anyone from just making as many of the bits of green paper as needed but, he said that, even in his time, most commerce was carried on with virtual currency.  It wasn't automatic and instantaneous as now - the purchaser presented a small plastic card with an account number, or at least, read the number to the seller.  It seems to me to be a sure method of financial chaos - since as he said, it was very easy to cheat on your taxes back then. Barter was now the only way to stay outside of the overbearing government scrutiny.  Finally, Sallie said, "The leading offer is 67 kilograms of iridium 3 chloride.    Are there any more bids?"  Pause.  "Five seconds."  Pause.  "Done." The girl disappeared, to be instantly replaced by another.   This one was just as beautiful, but much taller and thin.  She was also wearing chains, which indicated that she had been cognified into a submissive shallie.  Her black skin was as shiny as her black hair.  Again, the info packet appeared on my monitor, and shortly,  "Place your bids." --------------- Later Our auction had gone well, as usual.  Our merchandise brought a premium from the wealthy of the world - they were the pick of society, where only about one in ten thousand ever got so far as an interview with me.  To start with, the girls had to be physically beautiful, the boys handsome beyond the norm.  They were congnified to be submissive, RNA educated for sexuality, then brought to an extremely high level of sexual ability by a section of green silk girls, trained, in turn, by my mother, Teema.  They had all disfiguring features removed - tattoos, moles, blotches, crooked teeth and so forth.  Finally, they received the vaginoplasty reconstruction that made them crave sex all the more.  That last, of course, only applied to the females.  The young males, after receiving all of the chemical and human education of the girls, were horny studs without the need for surgery. Sallie was running her delivery program to correlate the destinations with the shortest routes.  Shortly the merchandise would board our small freighter, and it would be on its way to deliver the shallies to their new masters.  Back in the days when both Rita's father and mine were trafficking in illicit female slaves, the girls would be delivered in crates or boxes, or sometimes in the hold of an airliner.  But, always, they were drugged and unconscious.   Ours, by comparison, would travel in style, with proper beds in comfortable cabins, with good meals and entertainment on the way.  Well, most of them. The reason for the difference, of course, was that most of our shallies were sold with the permission of themselves.   Our parent's bond-girls, on the other hand, had been unwilling captures on the way to true slavery.  The shallies would be taken to various locations around the world, and then be swapped for their bartered commodities.  The ship would eventually return with the very valuable and scarce items worth many times their value in ration coupons.  The oceans were now virtually empty of vessels, compared to the start of the century.  The bulk of ocean traffic was in huge and very slow cargo ships.  Huge because cargo capacity grew much faster than delivery cost - that is, twice the fuel could move four times the cargo.  They were slow because of physics - the slower that a vessel had to move water out of its way, the less it cost to push the ship along.  Most voyages by our few ships seldom saw another vessel on the high seas. I looked over the totals of the action, then at my PDU as a "ding ding" indicated a priority message.  "I have an interview session.  Come on in when you get though.  You can help with the dudes." --------------- My office Back in the time when my father - and Rita's - were in the female acquisition business, the objects were just taken - kidnapped was the word used back then.  They seldom just took an innocent woman, and most had a history of problems with the law or in someway causing offense to their captors.  Times had vastly changed.  Young women today - most, anyway - had nothing to look forward to in life.  Their education was worthless and without being able to enhance it, would never be able to rise above their status.  And, for a young person on the government stipend, the ability to enroll in an decent university was far beyond their means.  So, they were looking forward to a life of easy, but menial work, residing in a government suppled living cube, eating with government supplied ration chits, and being serviced at the free clinics.  For entertainment, they had their - again, government supplied - personal data unit,  activision... and sex.  Travel beyond walking, biking or mass transit distance was not feasible.  Their entire actual macrocosm was within a few kilometers of where they lived, although they could, and did, travel the world via their activision projector.  So, when the Enterprise offered a girl - or boy - a chance to be trained as a consort, most jumped at it.  We could have actually called it selling themselves into sexual slavery, and most would still have found it preferable to their humdrum lives.  Of course, technically speaking, what we were offering was illegal, but that had no effect whatsoever on our actions. Not all became merchandise.  Some, those that had inherent intelligence, would become agents for the Enterprise - actual paid employees living a vastly better life than they came from. First, a girl or boy, usually from the age of sixteen to eighteen - sixteen being the legal age of adulthood - would be approached by an agent of the Enterprise and offered a chance to interview for the chance to become a consort.  Of course, it wouldn't be so crass as a pitch to sign up and become a bondage slave or pretty boy for a rich foreigner.  They would be interviewed in an environment that they never imagined existed. To explain that, let me back up into history a hundred and fifty years or so.  Since the beginning of civilization, there has always existed those few with wealth, and the vast majority without.  For most of history, both groups existed apart from one another.  The poor didn't overly obsess about the riches across the city because they came across them fairly seldom. The invention of the projected entertainment system, called "Movies" brought the vision of the good life to the notice of the have-nots.  That started, roughly, at the beginning of the twentieth century.  But, it was after the great world wide war of the twentieth century, that the advent of the mass communications device called Tele-Vision suddenly thrust the idea of living with riches into the living quarters of every person in the country - and world, eventually.  Every evening the masses saw plays and cinematic presentations of the rich and famous - not necessarily truthful situations, but nonetheless, real enough for the idea that sharing the wealth, or a transfer of wealth, began to become popular, both in the political sense and the general feelings of the country. After the chaos of the petroindustry downfall, the political leadership of the country began to lean on the producers of entertainment to tone down the display of power and wealth that had been endemic in the output of the industry.  When it was resisted, a series of heavy taxes on "leisure production" were initiated to bring the recalcitrants in line.   Rodger and his team of sociologists were responsible in no small part for the introduction of the policy. So, the masses of people became more or less equal, from a standard of living standpoint, and weren't constantly bombarded with images that only served to cause unrest and jealousy.  Actually, they were equal in their ever decreasing standard of living. Back to the applicants.  They were brought to a location that was purposely made to look like something out of a fantastic dream, to them.  The recruitment center in the midwest was overlooking a valley with an incredible panoramic vista.  The building was sort of a phony Greeco Roman architecture, with huge, high ceiling rooms and supporting fluted pillars, massive chandeliers - useless, but impressive - and holographic images of fabulous treasures along the corridors.  Thick carpet was on the floor and colored lighting changed slowly in a pleasant manner to give accent to the walls.  They ate foods they they had only heard of in stories, and seldom believed existed.  Their bedrooms would have put an ancient Bavarian Prince to shame, with gigantic beds, massive whirlpool hot tubs, programmable showers and massages and delicacies on demand. All in all, they were brainwashed, to use a term that Quan had gotten from his father, before they even came before the interviewers.  Over three days they were given a battery of tests.  Those with a strong sense of family ties were washed out immediately - we had no desire for their parents to began to wonder where their siblings had suddenly disappeared to, or to disrupt a happy family, for that matter.  The potential shallies were tested for their susceptibility to being repointed to submissiveness.  Most passed this assessment, but a few had rock hard psyches that would resist such a life changing status.  Those few that were being considered for agents, were tested for educability.  Those that got this far were interviewed, one on one, by a trained psychologist.  Finally, they would have an audition with myself, Rita, or sometimes Quan or Chi.   Sallie was no good at this - her intrinsic outlook on everything in her frame of reference was too literal.  She was just as likely to ask the subject about her mammary gland support structures and flunk her when the girl didn't realize that the question was about her boobs.  I sat in my comfortable lounger and spoke into my PDU.  A young man entered my view and stood, waiting.  He was white, tall, and well constructed.  His penis was of a large, but not massive size, as were his testicles.   With a command, the visual came much closer, and began to rotate to allow me to examine the subject from all sides.  A gesture later, and his image receded to the normal distance for an interview.   I glanced over his info packet for a minute.  This young man was logged in as a possible agent. "You're anxious to leave your current life to find another?" I asked.  A standard question.  He nodded, then said, "Yaz, Zir."  I waited.  His handler would have told him to always amplify on any question that I asked - not just answer in the negative or affirmative.  "Who woon't?  Especially after seeing the zazz of this hooch." "What about 'this hooch'" I asked.  His slang was unavoidable, given his public education, but, nonetheless, vastly better than most of his peers. He looked straight at me.  No submissive this young man.  "It fabulous.  Anything I seen anywhere ain got nothing to churn this with.  An that is 'vision runs 'cluded."  Any activision programs that he would have seen that included an upscale society would have been historical dramas. A few more questions, but his packet info had already convinced me. I flagged it positive and ended the interview. Next was a shallie - no doubt about it.  Beautiful, big boobed, nice proportions.  No sense in questioning her.  She could barely speak American.  Her entire short life had been spent in pointless existence.  She had just 'graduated' from public school, but I doubted that she could even count higher than ten. I blew though the forty or so finalists, flagging all of them positive.  It was seldom that I overrode one of my experts.  It wasn't even really necessary for me to pass judgement - I just did it because...  well, I wasn't really sure, other than I wanted to see every person who entered the Enterprise, whether as merchandise or agent. "Ok, Jamie," I said to the handler as he came in view.  "Get 'em processed."   I popped up my calendar.  "When is the next...  hold on."  I looked at the flashing red circle on my PDU.  "I'll get back with you, Jamie." Shit, what the hell had hit the fan? - a favorite saying of my father.   "Go ahead, Sallie." She was furiously working a touch plate with multiple displays in front of her, all rippling with numbers.  Without looking at me, she said, "Bobo has jumped the grid on us.  He's planning to introduce his bill at the start of the next session.  That's two weeks away."  She looked at something out of my view.  Les says his man on the coast thinks that Bobo has something that will ride it though even without a push from a sweltering populace.   An hour later, after consulting with Rita, I had Sallie schedule the 'phib for an immediate departure.   Almost as an afterthought, Rita said, "Take Neferteema with you." I looked at her in surprise.  "Neferteema?  What for?  This is a serious trip, not a vacation with sex." "Just a hunch," she replied.  That settled it.  I had no idea what she was thinking about my dragging along a woman who was almost still a child, but I had long since learned that the red haired woman's hunches were usually more accurate than another's facts. I got us ready to leave.  Hopefully, by the time we got there, somebody would come up with a solution to the problem. End of book 1