Chapter Two
“Gentlemen. Please welcome to the stage, this year’s Breeder, Jane.” Michael’s voice filled the loud hall, penetrating every eardrum. No last name. It had long been deemed unnecessary to make the Breeder anything more than a fantasy woman.
I felt a little push from behind and stumbled onto the wooden stage. Six years of training took over and my stumble turned into a slow glide designed to highlight my legs and how they looked in the high heels they’d shoved on my feet. I remembered to swing my hips for maximum effect. It must have been working because a loud chorus of male shouts greeted me from the audience.
I aimed my smile in their direction. It was my weapon and I honed it to maximum efficacy. I’d been told to make every male candidate in the audience want to possess me and that’s what I’d do.
I’d walk for the good of society as had been drilled into me since birth. If the males were motivated by a worthy prize, they’d continue working their hardest to win it. The spotlights shining down on me made it impossible to see the one hundred men deemed worthy to enter the competition, but I knew they were there. The testosterone rolled onto the stage in a tidal wave.
After what seemed like a mile, I made it to center stage and the magnetic presence of Selectioner Michael. Gone was his businesslike attitude. Here, he was all showmanship and ear-to-ear smiles. His booming chatter listed things about me, but I didn’t focus on them. I turned briefly and saw huge glossy photos of past Breeders flashing on screens behind me. Their faces were as familiar as my own.
The tenor of the light changed as the screens flashed to white. “The time has come, gentlemen,” Michael said, as if telling a secret to a lucky few. The audience’s whistles and shouts stopped abruptly. There was only the whisper of chairs creaking as their occupants sat straighter. No one wanted to miss a word of what was coming next.
The man who’d escorted me to the stage rolled out a small round table covered in a shimmery silver cloth. On the table perched a large glass bowl. Every man who’d won the chance to enter the auditorium tonight had a card in the bowl with his name and identification number.
“You’re on, Jane,” Michael said.
I smiled out to the audience hoping to convey my impartiality to the home viewers. My fingers trembled as I lowered my hand into the bowl. For good show, I rustled my hand around, taking care to tease out the anticipation, but not take too long for fear the males in the audience would revolt.
Several members of the Guard stood at strategic points in the auditorium to ensure the process would go without violence. It was one hundred men against a dozen, even if those dozen had serious weapons.
I drew out the first name and handed the folded card to Michael. He smoothed it open and read out, “Simon Carter.” Behind us, the name flashed on the screen in the number one slot. I scanned the audience looking for the man named Simon Carter to come running up the aisle to claim his prize. No applause or cheers accompanied him. This surprised me. When I watched in previous years from my dorm room, it had always sounded as if the studio audience had gone wild. Instead, reality was silent.
“This is a competition. They won’t cheer for their opponent,” Michael said under his breath as he interpreted my confusion. “Smile.” I now understood the cheers had been dubbed in for the home audience and forced the smile back on my face. I wondered what else was different for the home audience. What other surprises were headed my way?
Another second passed before the first candidate bounded up the steps and onto the stage. He towered over me. His expression was pure intent as he stalked over to me and yanked me to him for a kiss. This I’d been expecting. Each candidate got to kiss the Breeder before the real competition began. I hadn’t been expecting his height and strength as he overwhelmed me with his power.
Back at school, girls kissed all the time. Those innocent kisses had not prepared me for the feel of a man’s body pressing against mine. I felt dainty and petite against him.
The kiss went on for long seconds, leaving me breathless and clinging to his wide shoulders. “You’re gonna be mine,” he growled against my ear before stepping back.
I nodded mutely. Maybe he would be the winner. He seemed strong enough to me.
“Her first kiss, everyone,” Michael announced, grabbing up the microphone and unintentionally lying to the audience. I remembered my real first kiss with a boy and my fingertip touched my forehead where Ethan’s lips had pressed all those years ago. I disguised the action by toying with a lock of hair. Usually at this point in the broadcast, my friends and I were done with our giggles. We’d watch the kissing in wondering silence. My friends guessing if they would ever get a chance with a man, me remembering my stolen minutes with Ethan.
“Time to pick candidate number two.” Michael nudged me toward the bowl and I repeated my smile and the selection dance. The next ten candidates bounded onstage for their turn at a kiss with me. None stood out as special. Soon there were twelve males standing in a row, arms folded across their wide chests daring the others to beat them. On first glance, they all looked similar with dark hair, tall bodies and muscles to spare. They might as well have been exotic zoo creatures, they were that different from any species I’d seen before.
These men were the strongest, smartest and handsomest of the community. There was a rigorous competition to get access to the yearly contest. The whole goal was to rebuild our population so of course the government wanted the best candidates to reproduce.
They didn’t have much choice when it came to the females. Only those of us who got our periods and went through puberty could be a Breeder. The selection was much wider for the men. I eyed the twelve men, looking for any attribute that would make me want them to be my first.
I reached my hand into the glass bowl and handed the card to Michael. My heart stuttered when the name Ethan was read, but I forced myself to smile and keep breathing. It was a coincidence. Ethan was a common name. About as common as Jane.
But as candidate number twelve climbed the steps of the stage, my heart stopped altogether. It was my Ethan. I hadn’t seen him in six years, but there was no mistaking the deep brown eyes and the squared jaw with the tiny scar he’d received when he’d tripped in a field and fell onto a pumpkin. The story had me giggling when he’d written it down in one of our hidden shared notes.
Our gazes locked as he confidently strode on the stage and made his way to me to get his kiss. Nothing in his demeanor showed recognition of me. My lips parted to express my shock at seeing him again, but he was on me before I could get any words out. He might not visibly show that he remembered me, but the intensity of his kiss told me everything I needed to know. Being in his arms was all I remembered. Yet it was different. The Ethan of my memory wasn’t as tall and broad. He didn’t make me feel like he could crush me with a flex of his arms the way this Ethan did.
We’d been innocent children, filled with the secret of our hidden love, making plans to run away. Me from school and him from his farm. As if there’d been anywhere for us to go. They’d been fun plans to make, but both of us had known we’d never follow through. I was a Breeder, and would have the world handed to me.
Had Ethan planned to be a candidate? It had been such a long time since I’d seen him, touched him or kissed him, yet he haunted my dreams. Had I haunted his as well? I clung to him, willing the kiss to go on forever.
He pulled back, leaving me with arms outstretched and lips puckered. He didn’t look affected by the kiss. No, he rolled his shoulders, put his hands at his side and took his place with the eleven other candidates. Me, however? I wanted to push the eleven other men off the stage and declare Ethan the winner.
Michael took the attention off me and got busy reminding the audience of the rules while I stared at the men and they stared back as though they were tigers and I was a bunny. I tried not to stare at Ethan, but my gaze kept getting pulled back to him as though he were a magnet and I was metal. What was he doing up here? How had he gone from apprenticed farm helper to a candidate?
“Twelve men for twelve months. The strongest will fight for the honor to try his chance at the Breeder tonight and for the first month. If he fails in duty, it falls to the next man, and so on until the miracle happens and a child is created.”
Michael’s famous, familiar speech didn’t cover the unlikely event that all twelve candidates failed and the Breeder didn’t get pregnant. It had only happened once in my memory, and the poor Breeder had taken care of the matter herself.
Michael turned to me. “Jane, step this way.” I swallowed, my legs as shaky as if I were on ten-foot stilts, not four-inch high heels. I stood silently while Michael lifted the hem of my dress and raised it over my head. I stood for the audience, totally naked. Then I turned so the candidates could view me, their prize. I’d expected to be embarrassed at standing fully exposed in front of the world, but I didn’t. Power soared through my very skin. I had something they all wanted. My body. I chanced a glance to see Ethan’s reaction to my nudity, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was eyeing his competition.
The intense gazes of the eleven other candidates were like lasers covering every inch of my polished, pampered skin. I let my eyes flicker over each of them, and then back to Ethan. Always back to Ethan.
Something felt off, and I realized the powerful music that accompanied this moment on-screen was missing in real life. From the rafters of the stage, a chair, almost like a throne, lowered. I stepped over to it and allowed Michael to assist me. My wrists rested on the wide armrests and my ankles were spread wide, letting the audience see the unfamiliar. In some of the training videos I’d been given, the women had no hair anywhere on their bodies. Nowadays, it would’ve been a crime for me to pluck a single unnecessary hair from my pubic area.
The back of the chair angled a little, giving my hips room to move. The angle would allow for the champion to take me right here on the stage in front of everyone. I hadn’t let myself think about the chair before now, so it surprised me when the anticipation and eagerness began to build. I was so ready to know what it was like to be a woman. All the months and years of being trained to be the Breeder flashed through my mind. The hours of videos I’d watched of men and women engaging in intercourse. All the images of naked men, and mostly the model of a male penis that had been gifted to me a year ago. For practice, they’d said, and finally gifted me with the privacy of my own room away from the crowded dormitory.
And practice I had. Barely a night went by when I hadn’t taken the penis out of its case to thrust it inside of me, touching myself intimately, usually dreaming of my kisses with Ethan and how I’d felt pressed against him in the cooling unit. It had been a million times better alone with the model penis than the secret nights with my fingers. Would it be a zillion times better with a real man? Please, let it be Ethan. Let him win.
While Michael had been helping me into the chair, the twelve candidates had gone backstage to be prepped and put into proper attire. They filed out onstage now, each shirtless, wearing loose athletic shorts with a number printed on the hip. They walked to form a circle around my chair. Orange tape Xs marked twelve even places so no man had an advantage.
I did my best to study each man equally, but I took an extra second to look at Ethan. He’d grown taller and much broader than I remembered. A tattoo wrapped around his right biceps, but I was too far away to see it clearly. In my mind, he was the strongest, the most powerful candidate, but history told me that appearances were deceiving. Sometimes the most wily or the most scrappy man won the battle.
The last candidate standing got me. The trick was staying in it. No man was allowed a weapon. Actual death for the viewing audience would’ve been horrifying. Instead, each man was allowed to use their fists, feet and any other advantage their body gave them.
The massive screens behind me flashed a countdown, and I knew when it got to three, my friends at home would be chanting along. Here onstage, there was an anticipatory silence that was almost eerie in its intensity. Time ticked to zero, and a blur of violence erupted around me. I’d been instructed to maintain my calm cool smile throughout the entire competition. The camera would be flashing in for close-ups to my reactions. I wasn’t supposed to have a favorite, so my expression had to remain unchangeable.
It wasn’t easy. The men tore into each other with a viciousness I’d never seen. I’d grown up in an all-female community. Violence was rare. We fought our battles with the razor sharp edges of our tongues and in the subtle jockeying for power in the lunchroom.
There was nothing subtle about this battle. Punches were thrown, and an invisible belt around my stomach pulled a notch with every thud of fist hitting vulnerable skin. At first it wasn’t easy to see if anyone was gaining an edge in the melee. I couldn’t see which hand belonged to which man, or which foot lashing out for a kick belonged to which leg.
Grunts of pain and cries of agony were the only musical accompaniment. It was a world away from watching it with a glass screen barrier and music and commentary by Michael. He was calling out observations, but I could barely hear them over the awful sounds of violence.
The first man hit the floor, and two soldiers ducked in to drag him out. Perhaps he had the energy to stand and fight some more, but rules stated if you hit the ground, you were out. I confessed to a small amount of surprise the first man down was Simon, my strong first kisser. I sent a prayer of gratitude heavenward that Ethan hadn’t been that first man down. He was still in this.
Simon’s defeat seemed to signal a cascade of loss for other men. No one wanted to be the first man knocked out. Once that dishonor was taken, it was acceptable to allow yourself to fall.
Only six men, including Ethan, were left, and the battle intensified. Twice, a man was thrown against my chair and I had to scoot to avoid being hit. One man winked as he was tossed onto my lap, but the other men were fired up that he got to touch me. Two turned on him with fury and he was soon knocked out.
It was now down to three men. I studied each carefully. I stifled a cry as I saw blood dripping from Ethan’s cheek. Each candidate returned to an orange X at the request of Michael who acted as a referee of sorts. Sweat dripped from all three men and angry red splotches dotted their visible skin. There’d be purple and blue bruises tomorrow. I doubted they felt the pain today, but my body ached at seeing the abuse Ethan was taking just to have a chance at winning me.
A deep dark part of me thrilled at how far he was going to get a chance to be with me. In olden days, men courted women with flowers and something called a date. Seeing Ethan fight and bleed for me was more romantic than any rose.
The countdown clock started at five again. When it got to zero, Ethan and the other man turned to the third and took him down with no effort. I’d obviously missed some sort of non-verbal signal that had passed in the circle.
The two finalists faced off against each other and it was all I could do to keep my eyes open. I wanted to shut them against the violence and promise of domination I saw in each one. This was not the carefree Ethan I remembered carrying crates of produce to my school kitchen. The hulking man in front of me was a physical menace who looked as though he’d never smiled and blushed at kissing a teenage girl.
The other man appeared equally strong and capable of violence. How would one best the other? Martial arts moves were choreographed with precision and lethal intent, each man knocking blows into the other.
And then the real battle began. They’d been toying with each other before. Testing the waters. Finally Ethan lowered his shoulders and ran full force, ramming his shoulder into the other’s abdomen. They flew off the stage wrapped in a deadly embrace.
I strained to see what was happening, but my chair didn’t allow much room for visibility. After minutes—no, hours—the crowd parted and one of the men stood. I blinked, struggling to see if it was Ethan, and realized tears were clouding my vision. I blinked them back. It would never do to let people think I was crying at my fate or that I had any history with one of the candidates. Others would cry foul.
I blinked again, and saw it was Ethan. He’d won. A warm elation climbed through my belly and radiated outward at the knowledge that the only man who’d ever mattered to me was about to take my prized virginity. He climbed onstage forgoing the steps. His chest heaved from effort and blood dripped from his nose. His dark hair streamed sweat onto his skin. I thought he looked like a savage. His bare hands could tear me to pieces, and given the way he’d dispatched his competitors, it was entirely possible.
He wasn’t the boy I’d known. He was fully a man. I shivered, but then his gaze connected with mine and I saw a glimpse of my first love. I couldn’t have broken my stare if a tiger prowled onto the stage. I tried to smile to hide my hesitation. Until this moment I hadn’t understood how badly men wanted to have sex with me, the Breeder. Ethan’s expression told me he would’ve fought the entire audience of men, not just eleven others. And he would’ve won.
Our gazes remained locked until Michael announced a commercial break and Ethan turned away to head offstage. I felt an inexplicable desire to call him back, though I knew he’d be returning shortly. I was possessive. He was my man. I wanted him in view.
Every single person in the country would remain glued to the screen. Everyone knew what was coming. It was my turn to shine onstage. I was about to be deflowered in full view of the world, but in my mind only one person mattered and that was Ethan. He’d been the fantasy man at the forefront of my imagination every time I’d pleasured myself. Now I was about to have the reality. I shivered in anticipation. The Ethan in my dreams had been soft and kind. The Ethan about to take me was a million times stronger and harder.
They used the commercial break to clean off the champion. The other men had been wiped down as soon as they’d been felled.
I sat quietly in my chair counting to one hundred twenty. The harsh camera lights rained their radiance down on me as I waited to have sex. For the first time. With a beast of a man who faintly resembled a boy I’d once known. The dirty, kinky unexplored part of me liked him better. I wanted him to use his strength on me. To take me with the power he’d shown to the other candidates.
Michael took his place onstage as the master of ceremonies. He’d backed off to a more secure location during the battle. He did a quick microphone check and then the music started as the lights dimmed.
Behind me, the large screens flashed with the name and picture of the first man to fall, Simon. I couldn’t see it, but I knew from previous years what was happening. Michael announced his name and Simon bounded onstage, coming to stand at my feet. The audience, comprised of the eighty-eight men who hadn’t been picked as candidates, jeered and shouted for each man as they reentered the stage.
Eleven men circled. They now wore gray brief underwear. They’d been hosed down after the battle, but the sweat stink hovered. It would require more than water to remove the power of their efforts. Only the knowledge the government guards stood in the wings with weapons kept them from pouncing. They weren’t allowed to have intercourse with me, but they were allowed to touch.
At first there was silence as each man gawked at me, almost afraid to be the first to touch. I gave a hesitant smile to one man, which he took as an invitation to trail one fingertip across my lips.
“Soft,” he whispered.
Two other men imitated the touch, then one daring soul cupped my breast, and I gave a small gasp. My reaction induced all the men to start appeasing their curiosity about a woman’s body.
Large hands stroked the arches of my feet, my thighs, my breasts. My nipples pebbled to a stone hardness against the rough brush of a large male palm. I closed my eyes against the onslaught of sensation. Having experimented at home, I knew what an orgasm felt like, but I’d seriously underestimated my one little hand versus the feeling of having twenty-two male hands on my skin. They caressed me all over, one taking a moment to pinch my nipples. My nipples ached, but it was the crease between my legs that felt the touches the most. I moaned softly and thrashed against the back of my chair.
Distantly I heard the cheers of the crowd of men at my reaction. Up closer, harsh breaths and grunts of approval whispered in my ear. My eyelids fluttered open for a minute and I saw eleven sets of eyes staring back at me, worshipping my body reverently. When my head turned slightly to the side I caught an eyeful of male arousal. It was my first time seeing the distinct taut bulge between a man’s hips. A quick glance around showed me that all eleven men were in a similar state. I shivered at the intensely arousing sight.
I mewed in delight. My sounds encouraged the men. Multiple sets of fingers parted the skin between my thighs and stroked. They’d come away wet. Long ago, I’d read sex was for people who loved each other, about the connection. Today, it was about feeling good. And, oh God, I felt good. Thinking stopped. It was all about feeling. My body shuddered and my mind went blank save for its fixation on pleasure. I was desperate to come to completion, but it wasn’t allowed. The honor of my first orgasm belonged to the winner. To Ethan.
As much as my body craved release, I wanted Ethan to be with me when I came. But if the men kept touching me, it was going to be out of my control.
The tempo of the music intensified, and my heart beat in time. The winner was about to be announced, I noted through my haze of pleasure. The men around me removed their hands and stepped back. Some held a promise in their gaze. They’d return for me. They weren’t through with the sex. They exited the stage and went to sit in the front row of the audience, all leaning forward, as if to remind us that they’d be ready to step forward and perform should the winner prove incompetent. A few of the daring ones cupped their cocks, rubbing furiously over the material of their boxers. I bit my lip at the sight, wanting to see more, but the time had come for Ethan to be announced.
Michael’s smooth voice turned raucous and loud. “Now for this year’s winner... Ethan Green.” The music reached fever pitch as Ethan strode into view.
My neck strained to catch a glimpse of him. I was worried about that cut on his cheek and any other injuries, but he had to be okay. He was strong. He’d have to be to have bested the eleven men circling me. He came into view. Muscles stood in relief on his skin from his neck down to his bare feet. Not a stitch of clothing covered him and I was given my first in-the-flesh view of a real penis. It jutted out from a nest of dark curls below a tangle of ropy abdominal muscles.
I couldn’t move my gaze off his strong body, and his eyes were similarly directed at me. Had he been watching backstage as the men touched me? Did he know how badly I ached for his touch?
The lights on the stage dimmed as he made his way over to me. His eyes gave nothing away when he stood between my thighs. Dimly, I sensed the cameras coming in closer for the best angle. This was the moment everyone in the world was waiting to see. The absence of sex in the majority of the world’s population hadn’t taken away any of the fascination for it. Everyone wanted to see his penis slide into me. If only the audience knew the whole story behind me and Ethan, they’d be going even crazier now. About as frantic as the beat of my heart.
I closed my eyes waiting to be probed, but nothing happened. My eyes flew open. Ethan hovered over me, hands planted above my shoulders. “Jane,” he said. “Hi, I missed you.”
He was taking the time to talk? Now?
My disbelief must have shown on my face. “We’re about to have sex,” he said in a low voice. “Do you want this?” he asked.
I nodded furiously. If he didn’t start touching me, I was going to grab his hard cock and force him into me, but then an awful thought occurred. “Do you?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I really do.”
Oh, of course he did, or else he wouldn’t have fought as hard for the chance to have me.
“Do it then,” I said, nearly silently. Something grew inside me I didn’t understand. For the last six years I’d been picturing this day, this moment, in my head. Not once did I expect it to be Ethan, nor had I expected him to take the time to talk to me. Most years, the winner jumped on the Breeder in a mad rush to get inside her as fast as possible. Ethan hadn’t. He’d talked to me. He’d asked permission, and it was so wondrous, I forgot to be nervous. Thank God I hadn’t taken the drug. I was clear-minded and ready to note everything happening around me, to me.
I ran a hand through his hair to see if it had changed as much as his body. It was the same as I remembered. The skin on his cheeks had changed, though, and it intrigued me. A dark prickly shadow covered his cheeks and chin. It scratched at me in the best possible way as Ethan bent over to kiss my breasts, rubbing his tongue over one nipple then the other. I arched into him. The eleven men watching us closely from the front row were ignored, the cameras forgotten.
I planted tiny kisses on as much of Ethan’s skin as I could reach. Reverently his hands cupped my breasts and he leaned over me to kiss me. My lips parted, and his tongue slipped in, rubbing against mine. It was amazing; the best thing I’d ever felt.
“What’re you waiting for?” Michael hissed from offstage. “Fuck her. The world’s waiting.”
If Ethan heard the warning, he didn’t show it. Instead, his hands lowered to stroke my belly down to the juncture of my thighs. I was already wet from the other men’s ministrations, and I eagerly welcomed his touch.
He was obviously a virgin like I was, but somehow he knew what to do to make my body sing with need and desire.
“Hurry up.” Another warning from offstage. The people wanted their show and the government had to deliver.
We stared in each other’s eyes. “Ready?” he asked.
“I’m ready.” I spread my thighs as far as I could while he guided his penis inside me. There was no barrier, no pain as virgins of long ago experienced. I’d been given the model of a penis for a reason, and used it to my advantage. Ethan slid in me as though he were made for me. I’d been so close to orgasm when the other competitors had been touching me that I didn’t think it would take much to bring me to the brink.
The cameras focused on my every moan and pant as I was filled for the very first time with living flesh. I’d remember to be embarrassed later. Now, there was only Ethan on top of me, inside me. My palms stroked the sweat-dampened muscles of his back, and I instinctively lifted my hips to meet his thrusts.
“Oh, God,” Ethan muttered above me, the words escaping one at a time from behind compressed lips. His eyes were shut, and a faint sheen of sweat rested on his forehead. “It’s so good. Better than I’d dreamed about.”
“Better than your fist?” I whispered against his lips, wondering where I found the daring to say such a thing. It was common knowledge that men nowadays resorted to all sorts of ways to release their sexual needs. Some men chose to chemically castrate themselves knowing there’d be no female outlet for the desires. The likely candidates to win a Breeder never did.
“Beyond better,” he groaned.
“It’s better for me too.” I loved everything about it. The feel of him filling me, the scent of his exertions, the damp friction of our skin rubbing together, but most of all the knowledge that it was Ethan fucking me was the pinnacle.
His eyelids flashed open and he smiled at me. Our lips met in another deep kiss while his hips sped up their pace. With each thrust, he pushed against my swollen, sensitive clit, making me gasp.
We danced together for long minutes, the camera picking up every touch of skin, every bead of sweat between us. Despite the weight of the chair on which I perched, the legs of it scooted back and forth from our frenzied movements.
“I don’t want this to end,” he said in a hoarse voice, “but I’m close.”
“Me too,” I panted. If our first time together was this good, I could hardly wait for the next month together.
His hips started to pound hard against me, pushing me back against the chair. Speaking was out of the question. It was all I could do to remember to breathe. I was so close to my first manmade orgasm, I didn’t want to miss an instant of it.
For a quick second his eyes flashed open and met mine. I could see panic in his. He was close, but somehow knew I wasn’t quite there yet. He’d be shamed if he couldn’t hold out long enough to give me an orgasm.
Without much forethought, I threw my head back and started moaning as if my life depended on it. I begged to deities I didn’t believe in, cried for mercy and squealed, feigning the greatest pleasure of my life.
Ethan groaned and gave a thrust, keeping himself deep inside me. My inner muscles clenched around his penis. He was done. I knew the drill. He’d pull out. Slowly so the audience could see he’d finished inside me. I’d remain on the chair for around ten minutes with my legs up hoping gravity did its job and something would take root in my uterus.
At the moment I wasn’t thinking much about babies and final goals. I hadn’t had an orgasm, damn it, though I’d given a good approximation of one. I was antsy and restless. I couldn’t bear the thought of staying locked in this position without relief. Ethan tried to stay on top of me, but he was dragged away for clean-up and interviews. Before they pulled him off me, he whispered in my ear, “Thank you.”