Advanced Fertility Program Ch. 02

Disclaimer: The contents of this story are for entertainment purposes only. They do not reflect the personal views or beliefs of the author.

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Chapter 2: Man of the House

Bradley sat in the chair at the head of the dining room table.

Ahmad glared at his bully while his mother hurried back to the kitchen. That had been his father's chair, but he and his mother had not used it since his passing. With Ahmad still locked in chastity and working his way through high school, and his mother being strictly a housekeeper, it seemed inappropriate to sit in that special seat that had once represented the authority of his firm and disciplinarian father.

Bradley leaned back in the chair like he belonged there. "Damn, that smells good!"

Looking over her shoulder, Sadiya wrung her hands together. "I suppose you should set another plate at the table," she called to Ahmad.

"Yes, Mom," Ahmad said out of habit. It was rare for him to say no to his mother.

He fetched a tablecloth, plate, and utensils and began laying them out in front of his bully. It took all his willpower not to punch that stupid grin off Bradley's face, not that it would have accomplished much. Bradley was bigger and stronger than he was, and his mother abhorred all forms of violence. There was also no telling what kind of legal trouble he'd get into.

"Dinner is served," his mother said, her voice missing its usual charm. Ahmad felt tense as she served the head of the table first. Bradley licked his lips as she came close, staring openly as her large breasts swayed beneath the thin fabric of her abaya. She averted her eyes as she stood close to him, filling his plate with rice and lamb with a seasoned yogurt sauce.

"What's this?" Bradley said, making a face at the food.

"It's called mensef," Sadiya said softly, "a special dish from my home country."

Ahmad knew his mother well enough to detect the nervousness in her voice. Her home cooking was one of the few things she took pride in. This dish in particular had been the favorite of his late father. Having so few guests, it was rare that she served her cooking to those from a different culture.

"Can't you cook something more, I don't know, normal?" said Bradley. "Like hamburgers or hot dogs or something?"

"This is normal," Ahmad said, raising his voice.

"Ahmad, it's fine," said his mother, filling the other plates. She stammered as she addressed Bradley. "I--I suppose I can cook something more to your tastes next time."

"You won't have to cook him anything, Mom," said Ahmad. "There won't be a next time. He's only here to talk, remember?"

Bradley stuffed his face full of food, paying little attention to the taste, caring nothing for the painstaking effort Ahmad's mother put into her cooking. Not that he wanted the asshole to enjoy it. He just knew his mother could be sensitive about these sorts of things.

"Talking is fine," Bradley said, chewing a large mouthful of food. "It's probably a good idea to get to know each other before we... you know."

Ahmad watched his mother's cheeks turn rosy. That made the two of them. Just seeing Bradley in close proximity to his beautiful, voluptuous mother was enough to make him break a sweat.

"Do your parents know you're here?" she asked, tactfully avoiding the subject.

"Nah, my mom doesn't give a shit."

Ahmad waited eagerly for his mother to scold Bradley for using foul language at the dinner table, as she had done to him time and time again.

Instead she lowered her head and frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. Some moms don't care about their kids. That's just how the world is." Bradley took another bite. "Hey, this stuff ain't half bad."

"Don't listen to him, Mom," interjected Ahmad. His mother's kind heart was perhaps her most wonderful trait, but it made her a little naive. "He's trying to trick you into feeling sorry for him. I don't blame his mom for ignoring him. There's not much worth paying attention to."

Sadiya gasped. "Ahmad, how could you say something so awful!"

Ahmad shriveled before his mother's gaze. "You don't know all the things he's done to me!"

Ahmad had suffered greatly at the hands of Bradley Jones. What started as teasing had escalated into outright cruelty. By the time they were seniors, he had locked Ahmad inside lockers for hours on end. He had given him wedgies that tore the fabric of his briefs. He had even yanked his trousers to his ankles in front of Hazel, his longtime crush, and the rest of the girls in their class, exposing his tiny chastity cage. Not a school day went by where he was not bullied by the taller and more athletic boy.

Things were different now. Despite the device wrapped around his cock, Ahmad was a man grown. He was ready to stand up to his bully, something it took a lot of effort to accomplish. Not even his mother could take that power away from him.

"Whatever happened between you boys at school is no excuse to be rude at the dinner table," Sadiya said, nervously straightening her hijab. "Bradley is our guest. So long as he is under this roof, you will treat him with respect. Is that understood?"

Ahmad scowled at Bradley. The cocky white teen smirked in response.

"Don't make me send you to your room!" Sadiya threatened.

Ahmad looked down at his meal, barely touched. She had not sent him to his room in years. "I understand, Mom."

Bradley patted Sadiya on her bare hand, chuckling to himself. "Don't be so hard on the boy. He's been struggling in school lately, especially with girls. I think we might hate a late bloomer on our hands."

Ahmad watched in horror as Bradley's hand remained on his mother's wrist. Touching her wasn't just wrong, it was outright haram! Why wasn't she pulling away?

Bradley began to stroke Sadiya's forearm. He even had the gall to run his fingers beneath the sleeve of her robe. "Mrs. Yousef, I know this will be hard on you and Ahmad, but bringing a child into this world is our duty to this great country. It's our duty as loyal Americans. Maybe something good can come out of all this. Ahmad could learn a thing or two by having a man around the house."

Ahmad clenched his utensils, wondering how it would feel to stick a fork into Bradley's eye. Never before had he felt so possessive of his mother. Seeing his bully touching her triggered something primal inside him. It made him want to be the bigger, stronger man. The man who got to claim, and keep, and fuck the woman he desired.

His cock ached against its metal restraints, sending him crashing back to reality.

"I still don't understand why the government matched you with me," Sadiya said. "You are of European descent. I am from the Confederacy of the Levant. There must be some kind of mistake. How is it possible that the artificial intelligence decided the two of us should bring a child into this world?"

Ahmad nodded along with his mother's words. Yes, yes! There had to be some sort of paperwork mix-up!

"I heard it's got something to do with genetics," Bradley said, stroking Sadiya's dark fingers. "America's always been a melting pot. Now that I think about it, lots of the white guys on the football team got matched with brown women." He gave a burp, not bothering to cover his mouth. "Anyways, I'm stuffed. How about we get to know each other somewhere a little more comfortable?"

Ahmad prepared to jump from his seat. He would stop Bradley physically if he had to. His bully fucking his mother could not, would not happen!

To his surprise, his mother grabbed Bradley's arm and removed his hand from her wrist. He almost laughed when the shock made Bradley's face look even uglier than usual.

"Young man," his mother said, "we must speak frankly about this. It is wrong for you and I to have such relations. I may be a kind and law-abiding woman, but I am also a widow and a servant of Allah. You are a confident young man, and I have no doubt that you will be matched with a partner suitable for you. Perhaps someone more prepared to have children. But it will not be me. I am sorry to disappoint you."

Ahmad was so proud of his mother that it almost brought him to tears. All this time, his urge to butt heads with Bradley had seemed like the clear solution. But there was a reason his father had seen something special in Sadiya and chose to make her his wife. She was an eloquent well-spoken woman who could not be trifled with. Especially not by the likes of Bradley Jones!

Ahmad loved his mother. No, it was more than that. Deep in his heart, he knew she was the perfect woman. He could search the world for a hundred years and find no better than her. She was beautiful, intelligent, feminine, and there was a certain sexual energy she exuded that none could deny. You saw it in her child-bearing hips and heavy breasts. The way her ass swayed as she moved. Yes, Ahmad loved his mother. But he also desired her. And so much more.

The audacity of Bradley Jones, to think he could steal her away from him!

Bradley glowered at Sadiya. "Everyone knows the program is mana... menda...what's that word again?"

"Mandatory," Ahmad corrected him, amazed at Bradley's stupidity. How had he let such a fool push him around for so long?

"Exactly."

"That is true," Sadiya said, "but the contract can be voided if both parties sign to it. Tomorrow I will drive us to the fertility clinic downtown so we can process the paperwork. I am sorry things have to be this way, Bradley. I know every young man looks forward to the day he is chosen by the government to bring life into this world. But I am not the woman to give you such gifts. I hope you understand and forgive me. Now, if you've finished eating, I think it's about time that you returned home."

Ahmad smiled, impressed by his mother's resourcefulness. Had she searched for that information online in the few minutes she had been alone in the kitchen?

"That would mean I'd get locked up again," Bradley said, squirming in his seat. "Then I'd be in the same situation your dweeb son. I'll tell you right now, there's no way in hell I'm getting back in that fucking cage." He placed his hand on Sadiya's wrist. "We're going to have sex, Mrs. Yousef, and we're going to do it tonight."

Sadiya batted her dark eyelashes, surprised. Clearly, she had not expected the young man to resist her carefully planned speech. She jerked away from Bradley's touch this time, breasts bouncing. "We can simply ignore the contract if you insist on remaining unlocked. Then you may have relations with whichever women you please. But it will not be with me."

"That would be breaking the law." Bradley grinned. "I'd rather stay out of jail and get as much pussy as I want."

"You cannot force me to have sex with you!" said Sadiya. "I will go to the courthouse tomorrow and apply for a religious exemption."

Ahmad noticed his mother sounded less sure of herself. He wanted to help her, but what could he say or do?

"Mrs. Yousef, this is the United States of America," Bradley said. "We have a little something called separation of church and state. If you think I'm pulling that out my ass, ask your son. I promise we learned it in history class."

"Yes," said Sadiya, trying her best to smile politely. "I learned all about the United States government and its constitution while studying for my citizenship test."

"This is real life, not some stupid words on a piece of paper," Bradley lectured her. "You should know that religion is no excuse to break the law. We are going to fuck tonight and for many nights after. Eventually, you're going to get pregnant. Not even your God can save you from that."

Ahmad watched his mother fold her arms beneath her breasts. Never before had he seen her look so chastised.

"Young man, I told you I refuse."

Bradley shrugged. "The law is the law. Like my dad used to say, if you people come to our country, you should at least learn to speak our language and follow our rules."

Sadiya narrowed her dark eyes, thick lips frowning, no longer able to maintain a polite smile.

Ahmad's heart ached for his poor mother, making his hatred for Bradley burn that much hotter. Since coming to America, she had put in tremendous effort to adapt to local customs and integrate with society. "Don't lecture her, you bastard. You don't know how hard she's worked since coming to this country."

"Ahmad!" said Sadiya. "I told you I don't want conflict under my roof."

"I'm sorry, Mom."

Bradley made a flicking motion with his hand. "Vwa-pish. Damn you're pussy-whipped, boy."

"And you!" Sadiya wagged a finger in Bradley's face. "Don't you dare use such vulgar language with my son!"

Bradley stared into Sadiya's eyes until she lowered her hand. His gaze was intense, and Ahmad watched as his mother shrank before him. "Listen, Mrs. Yousef. No, maybe calling you Sadiya is better. That's your first name, isn't it? I'm never gonna allow you to speak to me like that. I'm not a pussy like your son. I don't give a shit how old you are. You're a woman, and I make sure women treat me with respect. Y'know what, I think you better start calling me Mr. Jones from now on."

Tell him off, Mom, Ahmad thought, find a way to kick him out of here.

"I--I apologize, Mr. Jones," Sadiya said, lower lip trembling.

"Mom--" Ahmad stopped himself from saying more, fearing another of his mother's outbursts.

"I should go clean up," Sadiya said, voice cracking. She gathered the plates and hurried out of the room.

"What the hell is your problem," Ahmad said to Bradley, once his mother was out of earshot.

Bradley snickered. "She'll get over it."

"You motherfucker." Rising from the table, Ahmad went over and grabbed the boy by his chest. "You made my mother cry!"

"Motherfucker?" Bradley grinned. "I like the sound of that. Would you lay off? You're going to stretch out my t-shirt."

Ahmad let go, disgusted. Bradley smoothed out his clothes, not bothered by his threats in the slightest.

"Brad, listen to me. I'm sorry about earlier." It pained him to apologize, but Ahmad could think of no better way to get out of this predicament. If it meant saving his mom from getting fucked, he would gladly grovel on his knees before his bully. "We both know you've always had it in for me, but this is going too far. Don't do this."

"Don't do what?" asked Bradley.

"You know."

Bradley shrugged. "You'll have to remind me."

"You want me to say it? Fine! Please don't fuck my mom."

"Request denied," said Bradley, mimicking one of the robots from school. "You broke my vape, dude."

"I'll buy you a new vape! I'll buy you whatever you want. A new GameStation 5? A car? I'll do your homework for the rest of the year. I'll carry your stuff between classes. I'll embarrass myself in front of whoever you tell me to. Fuck it. Just say what you want, please!"

A devious look came over Bradley's face. "Other than pumping your mom's dark Arab snatch full of cum?"

Ahmad's throat tightened. "Besides that."

"I am pretty tired from practice. My feet could use a good rubbing. My dad used to get them from my mom all the time, before he kicked the bucket."

Ahmad recoiled as if Brad had socked him in the mouth. "You're a sick bastard."

"Ah-ah-ah! Do you want me to cancel the contract or not?"

Ahmad already knew the answer. It would be one thing if Bradley fucked his mother--that alone would ruin his life--but getting her pregnant? The idea filled him with a deep existential terror. The thought of his bully pumping seed into the woman he adored, the woman who cared so lovingly for him since his father died... yes, the thought alone pushed him into a state of complete subjugation. He would go to any length to prevent Bradley from impregnating his mother. There was not an atom in his body that could allow that to happen. Even his soul screamed at him to prevent such a fate.

"You know I do," he said.

Bradley stretched out his legs. "Then get under the fucking table, bitch boy."

It was easier than he expected to obey his bully. Perhaps it was a sort of conditioning from all the torment he had suffered. This was far from the first time Bradley Jones had forced him to do something against his wishes. The way it usually worked, the faster he did what the bastard wanted, the sooner his suffering would be over with. He hoped this time would be no different.

So, for the first time in his life, Ahmad found himself crawling under the dinner table. Despite having more than enough money to afford cleaning bots, his mother did the housekeeping the old-fashioned way, scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees. It was something Ahmad took for granted. She certainly never asked him to do any of the housework.

Crawling between Bradley's big legs, he noticed his sneakers had holes in them. They smelled awful. Holding his breath, he removed the shoes of his bully and tossed them aside.

"Hurry up dude, before your mom gets back," Bradley urged him.

"Fine."

Bradley kicked his bare heel against Ahmad's chest. "Fine, Mr. Jones," he corrected him.

"Fine," Ahmad said through his teeth, taking his bully's huge foot in his hands, "Mr. Jones."

"It's about time you started showing me a little respect. You've had a bit of an attitude at school lately, huh?"

"I didn't mean to," Ahmad said. "I'm sorry"

"I bet you are, loser," said Bradley. "God, wait till the guys hear about this."

Ahmad was hardly a minute into giving his bully a foot massage when he heard his mother's voice. "What's going on in here?"

Ahmad was relieved when Bradley answered her. The thought of addressing his beloved mother while rubbing his bully's feet was downright mortifying.

Bradley explained, "When I was a kid, my dad used to get foot rubs from my mom after dinner. I always wanted to know what that felt like. Little Ahmad here offered to help me out. Said it was normal in your culture or something, for weak boys to care of strong men."

"Is this true, Ahmad?" Reluctantly, Sadiya peered under the table. Ahmad wanted to keep his eyes on Bradley's feet, if just to avoid his mother's face. From the way she bent at the waist, he knew the bastard was getting an eyeful of her thick, thinly-veiled ass cheeks.

Shame weighed heavy on Ahmad. It was difficult to meet his mother's gaze. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying. But no sadness remained on her face. When she looked at her son, kneeling under the dinner table, rubbing another boy's feet, her thick eyebrows narrowed and her upper lip curled. It was pure disgust, a face of contempt for her weakling son.

He lowered his head, saying nothing. His mother had never made such a face at him before.

"Did I say you could stop rubbing?" said Bradley.

"No, Mr. Jones," Ahmad said without thinking, returning to his task.

"Is this truly what you want, Ahmad?" asked Sadiya. Her expression softened. There was pity in her voice.

"I--I don't--I just thought--"

"Answer your mother!" snapped Bradley. "And do it respectfully."

"Y-yes, Mom I t-thought I s-should make our g-guest feel more c-comfortable."

"I see," said Sadiya.

Bradly dragged one of the dining chairs close to him. "Have a seat, babe. I know this is hard on you. It'll help if we get to know each other better."

His mother's face disappeared as she left him under the table, to tend to his bully's feet. He watched as she sat close to Bradley without a shred of resistance. Her ass looked even larger when she sat down, flaring out at the sides as it flattened against the chair. The fabric of her robe pulled against her legs, and Ahmad could see the full shape of them, firm and thick. The legs of a real woman.

His cock hardened against the restraints of its cold steel prison, forcing him to gasp. Like a reminder, the ring mechanism tightened around his balls, denying even the slightest possibility of an accidental orgasm. Anything to save my mother, he thought, rubbing Bradley's feet harder, more enthusiastically. Anything.