A Sissy in the 22nd Century Pt. 01

Preface

In a future not too far flung, humanity has progressed to a stage where almost all production and provision of society's needs is automated. With no need to work, all citizens are instead driven to find lifestyles that fulfil their own and each other's fundamental desires. This is achieved through the medium of an overruling system of artificial intelligences and mathematical algorithms which record vast amounts of data about each individual from the moment they are born; working out precisely where they will most comfortably fit into the lives of everyone else.

Medical science has also made great leaps, to the degree in which the Grand Algorithm can manipulate hormone provision and expression in all those under its control... Shaping their bodies and minds to perfectly fit the role it determines they are destined to fill. Citizens age slowly and rarely suffer any sort of malady, with immortality being considered a very real possibility in the next decade or so. Ideas like gender division are considered childish and old fashioned, with what genitalia and pronouns an individual uses dependant more on the lifestyle they lead than whatever was attached when they were born.

There are still inequalities and divisions within society though. Having emerged from the cocoon of free market capitalism, society is still very much tiered by class and overshadowed by corporate elitism... with the commodities sold simply having changed entirely toward 'entertainment' in one fashion or another. The rich are seemingly deemed fit to stay so by the Algorithm, the middle classes content enough to spend their entire lives devoted to any perversion that might take their fancy. This self-centred outlook leaves little interest in raising a family, so any children they do produce are generally given over to group 'Homes' wherein they are looked after and raised by those who have been determined to actually enjoy parenting. These young men and women are, of course, then sorted into roles that provide for their progenitors desires... thus continuing the cycle.

This story follows one such group of young adults who, all having just turned 18, are graduating into the lives they will lead from now until their deaths. This is administered, with little ceremony, by a simple printed card ejected from their high-school's connection to the Grand Algorithm...

Chapter 1: A Printed Future

Jesse looked down at the slip of paper in his hand. Its pristine white rectangle so simple and innocuous, despite all the weighted significance it held over his future. A month ago he had turned 18, along with all the others in Block H of Home 23. Today they were all graduating from comprehensive education, moving on with their lives into whatever further education or immediate vocation had been laid out before them. On this small, concisely printed certificate was the assigned position that he would spend the rest of his life fulfilling. It told him who he was. What he was. Where he would go tomorrow, and what time he was expected to be there. Nothing more. Nothing less.

In plain, un-embellished text were written the words:

Jesse of HH-23: Sissy Slutwife (1st Class)

To be enrolled at Madame Stanfields' Academy 9 AM, July 1st 2192.

"Oh wow! Stanfields?! Well done Jess-Jess! That place is very prestigious..." A voice filled with utterly-earnest encouragement came down from over his shoulder. Betsy. His roommate, confidante and closest friend in all the world. The girl stood a whole head taller than him and practically hovered through life on a wave of bubbling optimism. She beamed at him with motherly pride without blinking an eye at the role description which was shocking Jesse to his core.

"You'll be leaving us all behind and mixing with the big shots in no time!" The teen's smile wavered for just a split-second at this. A fact that would have been unnoticeable to Jesse... had he not known her so well.

"Who's gonna be hanging out with big shots?" Bustled in a brusquer voice, dragging another, voiceless body behind it. Whitney was not taller than Jesse, though the way she seemed to fill up all available space with her abrasive personality might well have hid that. She snatched the card straight out of his fingers and snickered at the writing there.

She whistled, almost admiringly. "Yeah, '1st class' eh? You're gonna be made up as a waaay more classy bit o' fuckmeat than this one..." She nodded a head down at her companion, the ever put-upon Claire. That short and shy young lady was indeed holding a card which quite clearly read 'Office Fucktoy (3rd Class)'. Though, as always, she hardly seemed to be paying much attention to the world around her... shuffling the toes of her shoes into the grit of the schoolyard while allowing Whitney to just pull her around.

"I got 'Sub-Trainer', of course." The louder girl boasted, practically shoving a card that indeed said 'Submissiveness Trainer (2nd Class)' in everyone's face. "How 'bout you, Bets?"

Betsy blushed a little as she revealed her own card, holding it out for everyone to read: 'General Breeding Sow (2nd Class)'. If Jesse was unnerved by his own assignment... this one absolutely baffled him.

"Breeding...?" He looked up at her bright red, but still smiling face. "But you were the best in the class! At nearly everything! Why would it make you..."

The tall and curving girl just chuckled away the redness in her face. Chiding her friend as she had over a thousand silly questions about homework in the past."It's not about being smart, silly. You know that. It's about where we'll be happiest! The Algorithm's decided I'm going to spend the rest of my life popping out babies... I'm sure there'll be plenty of downtime around that where I can read and study whatever I like... It makes sense really..."

There wasn't a semblance of doubt in the girl's face... so Jesse couldn't argue. Nor did either of the others look particularly upset with the lots they had drawn, or at all surprised by the one he himself had been given. So why had it come as such a shock to him? Was he really going to spend the rest of his life as some prettied up plaything?! The thought of it ate away at his soul... surely there had to have been a mistake...

Chapter 2: The Man Who Cares Too Much

"The Algorithm doesn't really make mistakes, Jess..." Daniel said, in the most consoling voice he could.

"It knows everything about you from the moment you were born. It's been shaping the young man you've grown up into, every step of the way..."

The thirty-something year old matron looked kindly across at the slight-bodied teenager slumping morosely on his desk, twiddling with a pen in clear, conflicted turmoil. He had been looking after the twenty or so teens in block H for the last five years of their lives, supporting them in any way he could. Everyone liked Daniel. You couldn't help it. He was exactly the sort of gentle, wise-beyond-his-years man that fit perfectly into this role. Which was rather the point to be made. The Algorithm didn't make mistakes. It put everyone where they ought to be.

Jesse knew this. He knew how it all worked, however much he might have dozed off in classes to be poked awake again by Betsy. It just... didn't seem to fit inside his head right now. That some infinitely complex machine somewhere had scanned from top to bottom of his soul and decided... Here's a young man who needs to suck old rich guy's cocks for the rest of his life. It didn't seem fair.

"Look... you've always known you were a little different from the other boys, haven't you?" Daniel offered, looking down at the light, soft slant of his charge's collarbones and the smooth, hairless skin on his arms. "The Algorithm's been controlling the hormones in your food and suggesting you exercise patterns all along... That's never seemed to bother you at all, up till now."

Jesse grunted... It was true. The fact that he was short and dexterously thin and had never needed to bother learning to shave or anything had just seemed... right at the time. Sure, it was sometimes a little intimidating to be overshadowed by Betsy, or George, or any of the other more conventionally masculine young men he grew up around. But that didn't mean he'd ever really thought of himself as a 'Sissy'. He could fight with the best of them... the few times he'd needed to. Admittedly, usually by the well-placed application of a knee to the crotch. Would he even really be considered 'pretty' by anyone? And what was with that '1st Class' definition that had been hung above his head... Almost no-one from the public Homes ever got graded so highly... There had to be some mistake.

"Have you ever... actually found yourself in a... situation like that?" Daniel asked, treading the ground carefully. Jesse's eyes flicked to him in immediate confusion and suspicion.

"Most people do, you know... Over that month from when you all come of age to when you graduate. That's kind of why it exists. The Algorithm chooses your roommates and guides your body's progression and... things just tend to happen naturally." He paused for a second, considering what he knew of his charge's social interactions over the years.

"Of course... Betsy has always been a bit... overprotective over you. I wonder if you were supposed to bump into George or Whitney somewhere and..." The man trailed off.

"But then... why would it have put you in with her in the first place..." He had the eighteen year old's full attention now, in the slipping twilight of his office. Those glinting eyes really were unavoidably exquisite, when you were caught in them. It was baffling how the young man had never realised it.

Chapter 3: Small Steps

"Like this...?" Jesse was on his knees, down on the floor beneath Daniel's desk. Between the legs of the man who had effectively been his closest thing to a parent for the past five years of his life. Daniel had always been there for him. Always happy to make time and talk when Jesse, or any of the others needed it. Every matron had several groups of youths under their guidance, at varying points of ageing. This allowed them to oversee the teens as they grew up until they finally flew the nest... and claim some degree of the rewards that inevitably came with this.

Daniel was beginning to figure out why the Algorithm had put Jesse in with Betsy. Why it had scored the lithe and pretty boy so highly. Everything was plotted out. Everything was done for a reason. As the teen wrapped his soft hands around the older man's penis and looked up at him with those timid, round eyes it was obvious: No-one could resist the urge to defile someone so pure and self-doubting... yet beautiful beyond words. Jesse poked out his tongue experimentally and let it just lightly touch the swollen shaft. Not able to bring himself to taste the bulbous, purple head just yet.

Two whole sets of young men and ladies had left Daniel's care by now. All directed off to be playthings, or painters, or breeding factories at the whim of the invisible force that controlled all their lives. He loved each and every one of the kids who came into his hands. Loved watching them grow into the complex adults they were going to be. But, he was no less under the sway of that artificial mind than any of them. It knew that this was what he loved doing... and knew that he guiltily loved the bit that came next most of all. For the youths didn't leave immediately upon coming of age. They stayed for several more years, while further 'vocational' education was given. Apprenticeships worked through. New talents found. And, all the while... he would be there. Offering further support. Helping with homework assignments. Enjoying the fruits of a varied orchard's labour.

Further to that... every matron was required to go down to the breeding pits once a month. Just to muddle in the possibility, however slight... That one or two of these young people might be his own offspring. Would the Algorithm purposefully ensure that? Would it utilise plausible incest as a hanging threat, or perverse reward, or just plain, old fucked-up experiment? He had honestly no idea. There was so much it seemed capable of. So much that once might have seemed impossible that anyone would agree to. Yet every generation he raised was just carved out and sent off in the images set for them, perfectly content to become what was asked of them... even when what was asked of them was not to seem content. Jesse's doubts were put there on purpose, of that Daniel was now certain.

Chapter 4: Sights That Shape Us

Jesse walked along the darkened corridor toward his and Betsy's shared bedroom. It had been so strange, to kneel down between Daniel's knees and look up at the man and his exposed penis. There was something, in that mental image. In that memory. In the feel of rough carpet against his bare knees and the looming shadow of someone who suddenly seemed so much bigger than him. Who filled up the whole horizon of his focus.

He had held another man's penis and felt it swell into excitement at the touch. Seen it grow to a size far beyond that which his own meagre offering ever reached. He had smelt the unmistakably-strong musk which came off of it and found it alien... but not repulsive. He had reached out his tongue and...

A bright red and boiling flush came into the teen's cheeks, even though he was alone. He didn't even know why he had agreed to do any of that. He'd just needed some way to prove to himself that he wasn't what the card had said he was... That he wasn't going to head off tomorrow and spend three years learning how to better...

The young man huffed and growled at himself, bunching his school skirt up into a tight knot then biting on his own fist. He hadn't proven anything! In fact, just the opposite... He was more unsure than ever!

A flicker of moving light drew Jesse's attention away from furious introspection, along with slightly muffled noises of exertion. A thin crack in a doorway showed that Whitney and Claire hadn't closed their room properly. Tiptoeing closer, he began to be able to witness the scene unfolding inside:

Claire was half-on, half-off her bed. Still wearing her school shirt and tie, but stripped entirely from the waist down. One of her legs was lifted high into the air by a restraining hand while the other steadied her against the floor. In between these was Whitney, furiously pumping and panting. The girl had a fully-formed penis that put both Jesse's and Daniel's to shame... though no testicles dangled beneath it. That absence itself allowed the viewer to realise that she still had a vagina as well; a seamless provision of all sexual organs available. Jesse's eyes bulged... he'd never even suspected... Whitney had always been a force to be reckoned with. Happy to scrap or joke with any of the Block H boys... but...

Suddenly something Daniel had said earlier came back: 'I wonder if you were supposed to bump into George or Whitney and...'. He stared at the gasping, moaning, shaking form of Claire as the smaller girl was driven into time and again by her overbearing roommate. Could that have been him, if not for the loving protection of Betsy? It had always confused him what the dynamic was between the near-silent little blonde and her ever-present, bullish companion. She had always been so passive, dragged around like a puppy by Whitney, yet also somehow... One of the only people who the typhoon of a young lady seemed to respect and listen to, on the rare occasions she did speak. Now here, yet more of it was laid out before him; without even the conscientiousness to be behind properly-closed doors.

For just an instant, he thought he saw Claire's eyes snap to him. Spotting the glint of his spying from the corridor. She seemed to stare straight at him for a second or two... but made no sign or sound that she had recognised him. Jesse's blush came rushing back, and he hurried on to his own door. The vision he'd seen still scorched into the back of his eyelids.

Chapter 5: The Comforts of Companionship

Entering their bedroom, Jesse was pleased to see Betsy in her usual place: Lounging on her bed with nose firmly buried in a book. It was a slice of normality he needed after a long day of emotional turmoil. The young man dropped his skirt to the floor and undid his tie, at last able to feel comfortable in the safety of his shared little womb. Eyes glinted over the top of the book, followed by a cheeky little snicker.

"You're still wearing them!" Betsy chuckled gleefully, staring intently at her best friend's crotchal area. Forgetting what she could possibly be referencing for a moment... The boy suddenly realised he had been wearing a pair of her patterned, cotton panties all day.

For as long as they had lived together, Betsy had handled most of the actual, general maintenance of the room. Doing laundry and laying out clean outfits for each of them every day had just naturally become part of that. Jesse didn't mind... He had always been fairly hopeless at coordinating clothing and wasn't really vain enough to risk upsetting her with refusals. Lately, though, she had taken to playing little tricks, like leaving out pairs of her own panties from the day before for him to put on. Forever late for the rush to the school-bus and so used to the trustworthiness of his friend was Jesse. That he'd quite often just slip these on without really noticing... or purposefully do it to bring a smile to her face. The girl really seemed to like the idea of him being sat next to her in class all day dressed in her own, pink-hearted possessions.

"You know... just the fact that you wear skirts would have made people suspect you were a sissy, back in the old days."

She was just trying to cheer him up, he recognised that. Knowing full well what would be playing over in his mind. Always full of little facts about history and how much better things surely were now. He didn't feel better though... and only wore the uniform that had been assigned to him. Some people got skirts, some got trousers. He'd always just assumed it was a height, or shape of the legs thing... All uniform was just to make them look smart and... well, uniform, after all. Now he realised it was almost certainly just like the hormones in his food. All this had been decided, years before.

Jesse slipped off the offending panties and chucked them into the laundry basket, closely followed by the white shirt. He and Betsy had no qualms at being naked in each other's presence. The Home was warm in summer, and sleeping in single beds opposite each other for five years meant some things were just unavoidable. He jumped up onto his own, soft mattress and curled up into a ball.

He heard the book being put aside and the creak of her bed-springs. He felt her weight being added to his own. He felt the soft caress of her long, cotton night-shirt embracing him, and knew he couldn't resist the calming effect that had. It was impossible to stay mad at Betsy. She and he had been through so much together. Shared so many secrets across the dead of night. She was the kindest, warmest, wisest soul he had ever encountered... and he valued her far, far more than he valued himself.