tagSci-Fi & FantasyAltered Genesis Ch. 05

Altered Genesis Ch. 05


Author's note: This chapter takes an interlude into the private lives of our characters and reveals more about the burgeoning matriarchal culture. Special thanks to Tim for his help with editing.


Riya Patel shut the door to her apartment and placed her keys in the crystal bowl next to the coat rack. The lights flicked on automatically to reveal an expanse of minimalistic, contemporary décor on a white tiled floor. A family photo from her childhood sat next to the coat racks. It only served to highlight the emptiness of her home.

Coming home was the least favourite part of her day.

She slipped out of her black heels and left them at the door and went to the kitchen to grab a microwave dinner from the freezer and began to nuke it. She loved food but had no interest in cooking.

Sitting on the leather couch in the TV room, she placed her dinner on the glass coffee table and peeled the plastic film off with practiced ease.

Giving a moment for the steam to clear, she looked to her right to see the brilliant lights of the city. From the 30th floor, they looked like a carpet laid out for her. It was one of the best views in the city but she still had nobody to share it with.

She had recently joined another dating app in search of love. But it seemed futile; all of the hottest young males would go to fem who had either youthful beauty or extreme wealth well beyond her means, despite her success in the corporate world. Life was hard for an ordinary fem rapidly approaching middle age.

She would try to be nice and respectful to boys, always demonstrating that she wasn't just another creepy fem who saw males as sexual objects. She often advertised the fact that she held traditional values of equal rights for boys. But all of the best suitors showed her no interest and those that did were much too old and ugly for her taste.

On a whim, she opened the app and flicked to the page of one of her favourite boys. A 19 year old brick-layer who lived just a few suburbs away in Mansfield. He had posted a new selfie that he had taken at work. His naked abs and chest were dripping with sweat, his perfectly tanned smile was set on fire by his grey-blue eyes. His brilliant gold hair frayed out in all directions from underneath his dirty hard hat.

Riya felt a warm longing, then a tingle, a hunger. He was pure and youthful male perfection in her eyes; and she needed him.

She was certain that he was real, and not a fake account. The website required full identity verification for all male members to guard against fraud.

Riya knew everything about him. His favourite movie, music, colour, where he grew up, even that his middle name was Peter. But she was invisible to him; nothing more than another "like" on his post.

The top comment was by a typical old executive type under the anonymous pseudonym "Lady Superior".

It read, "Show me that you can cook and clean and the only laying you will be doing is naked on your back while you scream my name."

He replied to the message with, "Hahaha so rude!"

"So sexist!" Riya huffed as she put down her phone.

Jealousy consumed her. She had tried on numerous occasions to get his attention and never got a reply, but this rich old lady could get his attention with nothing but her sickening bigotry.

Hard reality continued to settle in. Riya wanted a daughter but time was running out; she needed to find a husband fast.

Sperm banks were getting more expensive by the month as fewer male donors were prepared to risk being sued for child support. Most males opted to sell their seed to the Mesanet Corporation for research purposes instead. Only the wealthiest fem could afford a designer baby from bank stock. Despite her wealth, Riya knew that she could not afford the cost of child care in addition to fertilization.

Pondering her day, she began to eat her dinner with the sound of the TV low. She wondered why Dean had been so quiet in the meeting earlier that day rather than his hardworking self. She decided to call him into her office for a word the next morning.

"Boys just need encouragement from time to time. It can be hard for them to be confident in a feminine environment." she thought.

She imagined herself refocusing him "Mrs. Davenport style" by taking him over her knee, swatting his firm butt raw with a paddle and colouring it a rich pink.

The involuntary thought instantly flooded her with guilt. She believed that such an act was abusive and immoral but couldn't stop the vivid image from entering her mind. Seeing him voluntarily accepting her correction filled her with longing.

A glimmer of arousal was extinguished by her conscience.

Dean had been on her mind a great deal more than a subordinate should. He seemed like just the kind of boy that she was looking to take as a husband. She couldn't afford the costs of childcare and fertilisation at a sperm bank. What she really needed was a boy to provide her with good seed, then help raise a family and help around the house.

Riya had long been an advocate for traditional roles. She believed that a world in which husband and wife both worked was the most just. But in the current economy, the new trend was for males to stay home. Having a house husband would cost her only a fraction of what childcare would.

The choice was simple. She could either find a stay at home husband or never be able to afford children.

Riya knew that Dean loved his career and she knew that he would not give it up to become a house husband. Since quitting the porn industry, he was determined to pursue a traditional masculine career working alongside fem. He had rejected the progressive view that a male was best suited to menial physical labour or housework. His courage to follow his dreams made him all the more attractive to her.

Earlier that day, a new employee named Claire had started at the firm. She was one of the daughters of governor Mary Femlaw so it was in the interests of the company to put her on the fast track.

A frown spread across Riya's face when she recalled how Eleanor had shown the new recruit some of Dean's pornographic work only hours after Claire had officially started her new job. The five fem watched his naked body dance on the screen of Eleanor's phone while he was downstairs getting them coffees. She remembered the elicit rush of pleasure that she felt through her body in that moment, like storms of desire clouding her judgment.

Riya wanted to intervene right then; to protect one of her best employees from being maligned in front of his new college. But to see the governor's daughter being accepted into the group as part of the team warmed her heart. It was more than just a video, it was Eleanor's way of making her feel accepted as one of the ladies.

"What Dean doesn't know can't hurt him." she rationalised.

But she couldn't shake the sinking feeling that she got when she saw Eleanor flick her entire video library called "Dean the Buckslut" over to Claire's phone with a wave of her hand.

Some companies would have rules specifically designed to avoid such situations, but such policies were increasingly viewed as anti-feminine by social commentators. Aphrodite Campaigns was a distinctly forward-looking company. The company would regularly take a public stand against shaming fem for expressing natural desires.

"Don't feel bad. It's just what he deserves for whoring to get ahead." was what Eleanor said to justify Dean's ignominious introduction.

Riya's attention was drawn back to the TV in front of her. There was some hospital drama on.

On the screen was a nurse with little hot pants that showed off his bottom beautifully. It was a new male fashion statement to wear tight pants that rode up the butt crack so that the shape of each cheek was on show.

Naturally, it was attire only worn by TV nurses, not real ones. She felt a sharp tingle in her sex almost instantly. Her hand drifted down subconsciously. Soon the shot changed and she resumed eating with the low hum of her desire idling on the tarmac. She occasionally glanced at her pink vibrator shaped just like a real penis sitting proudly on the coffee table. She masturbated on that couch so often that it lived there now.

Riya felt ashamed of her private habits. She had always been vehemently against pornography; regarding it as sexist and anti-male. But it was the only way that she could relax after a long day.

After quickly finishing her dinner, she grabbed a towel from the laundry cupboard. Room service had left it there while she was at work. She laid its sumptuous whiteness over her black leather couch and sat on top after taking off her long skirt. Her underwear was made of thick elastic cotton with a modest waist that came to her belly button and pant legs halfway to her knees. She unfastened a flap at the front that enabled her to access her sex without taking them off. This had become her evening routine.

She brought up her favourites menu on the TV screen and navigated with the remote.

Another barb of guilt struck her when she realised that everything in her top 5 most viewed shows was one type of porn or another. She took a moment to appreciate just how horny she had been recently. Perhaps it was stress, or maybe her sex drive was beginning to kick into high gear. This was a common occurrence as fem grew older but she didn't want to admit that she was getting to that age.

"It's those tight clothes that Dean wears all day!" she said to herself in jest.

After almost every interaction with him, she would feel a slight stirring of desire. But even she could not deny that she appreciated the visual stimulation. If one day he had decided to dress conservatively, then she would have been disappointed. Knowing that, she realised that she still had a long way to go before she could truly call herself a male-rights advocate.

She decided to watch a show that she had been hooked on for the last couple of weeks, called House of Hella. All of the ladies at work had been raving about it. It was a sexy drama set in a medieval fantasy land where fem were vastly superior and men were the fairer sex. It follows a matriarchal tribe of Norse and their quest to survive in a magical war-torn land.

It was infamous for its portrayal of feminine supremacy and sex. Some people protested against it, claiming that it was a sick excuse for fetish porn and blatantly anti-male. But cultural commentators and intellectuals heralded it as a masterpiece that was replete with ground breaking social insights.

Riya agreed with the protesters whole-heartedly and found many of the themes offensive. But she was sick and tired of being left out of conversations when the ladies at work would talk about the show. After two episodes, she was hooked.

"The characters are so complex and interesting, and the tension is building up so well. I don't even watch it for the sex" she rationalised.

After heating up a second microwave dinner, she sat back down to watch the show. She was already up to the first episode of the second season.


The hooves of a black stallion trudged through the soft snow leaving deep footprints. Rolling green hills covered the distant lowlands behind it. In the saddle sat Maven Ward. She shivered slightly while clutching the reins with her head down as she endured the bitter wind. Her round, wrinkled face and grey locks were hidden under a brown woollen hood.

The camera panned around to reveal the imposing sight of a ten-meter-tall stone wall becoming visible through the softly falling snow. The snow-capped peak of Mount Hella cast an unforgiving shadow over Maven. Getting closer, the orange glow of the hearths on the upper levels of the castle came into view. Hella fortress was built into the side of Mount Hella and was completely surrounded by massive stone walls. It was the most formidable fortress in all of Faylinn.

A fem guard stood watch in battle armour at the top of the wall. She identified the approaching traveller and nodded to another lady to turn the crank and open the iron gate. Exhausted and cold from the journey, the black stallion slowly trotted through the open gate and into the settlement.

Despite the bitter cold, several Nordic fem warriors where practicing for combat with large wooden swords. Others were practicing archery. They all stood a foot taller than the average warrior from any of the neighbouring lands. Many people in the nations to the south considered tales of their prowess to be pure fiction. But Maven knew that the elite guard of the Norse Queendom were very real. They called themselves the Legion of the Valkyrie.

An intimidating figure stood in the middle of the training yard, she was almost as wide as she was tall. Her stance was proud and stoic despite her advanced years. The gentle flutter of her hood in the breeze was all that distinguished her from one of the stone statues of the ancient matriarchs that were scattered around the fortified settlement.

Directly in front of her, a young fem stood in a wide stance with palms forward. She smoothly shifted backwards, her blonde locks flapping in union with her movement. Suddenly she thrust forward with an open palm and sang out the words, "Light of Goddess!"

The air was torn in half as a crack of lighting shot from her hands in shades of white and blue. For an instant, the training yard was fully illuminated as if no clouds were in the sky and not a shadow could be seen anywhere on the ground.

Down the opposite end of the training yard, no less than twenty fem lengths away, stood her quarry at the other end of the lightning bolt. It was a faceless male manikin of straw and wood which now had black charring surrounding the genital region.

A small flame had broken out on the target and a squire immediately ran from the side of the yard to extinguish the fire with a pail of water.

The hooded instructor slowly raised her arm and pointed to the smouldering manikin while keeping the rest of her body perfectly still.

"See that." she said, "That, my child, is a dead male. The light of Dibella is designed to stun."

"Heel!" she bellowed.

Without moving a muscle, lightning shot out from her index finger like a million angels threading through the eye of a needle in response to a single word.

The courtyard lit up again with nearly as much force as the previous bolt. The squire screamed and covered his face as another lightning bolt struck the chest of the manikin standing next to him, leaving another black mark. He dove to the ground and froze in terror for a moment.

"But teacher, I'm sure that my bolt would have merely stunned him unconscious." the student protested.

"As did mine." the instructor slowly lowered her arm and pulled back her hood to reveal a saggy wrinkled face and brilliant white hair.

"You destroyed his charms, rendering him valueless. In the field we would put him out of his misery. A barren male is of little value and difficult to control without a cock to remind him of his place." she lectured.

The young fem nodded thoughtfully.

"Now, again." she commanded, "This time with confident control."

Maven continued on her way towards her destination and the instructor's voice faded back into the crowd. She feared for the lives of the warriors of her nation; should they ever be required to face the Valkyrie in battle, they would not fare well. Securing a long-term alliance between the Republic of York and the Norse Queendom never felt so critical to her.

No matter how many times Maven saw the powers of the Valkyrie, they never failed to strike fear into her heart. The magic of the Valkyrie made the arrows and swords of her people seem like the toys of children. She wished that all politicians from the Republic of York could see such a spectacle first hand, perhaps then they would take the northern Queendom more seriously.

On her way to the castle, she saw the cosy golden glow of fireplaces within each home. Nordic husbands where always sure to keep the home hearth alive at this frigid time of year. As a point of religious doctrine, a husband was required to remain nude while inside his wife's home. It was in his own best interests to diligently tend the hearth to keep warm during the bitter winter. It was common practise amongst the Norse for a lady to lock away her husband's clothes so that he could not safely venture outside without her permission.

As she watched the screen, Riya recalled a scene in the first season with a naked house husband giving his wife a foot massage by the fire while sporting a gigantic erection. The heavenly image was burned into her mind.

At the time, she was unable to look away despite her best efforts to avoid participating in his debasement. His unnaturally large male assets appeared too good to be true and summoned her natural desire for male flesh.

The cold streets were mostly filled with boys, forging weapons and armour, shovelling manure from the stables, chopping wood for fires and various other menial jobs. Half of these males were not Norse but boys from foreign lands who had been captured following their brutal defeat at the hands of the Valkyrie. They endured the cold while the fem either trained for battle, studied the scriptures of the ancient matriarchs, or entertained themselves at the tavern. Usually the latter.

The door to the prime hearth swung open with a creak and groan as the mass of wood and iron made way for Maven Ward. She passed by a blonde-haired guard who stared down at her suspiciously. The guard was much wider and taller than the lady-of-letters that Maven was. Her steel breastplate was in the shape of a large triangular prism that boasted her well-endowed femininity while obscuring its shape under sharp angular lines.

The Nordic warriors believed that their breasts were their source of power and a sacred symbol of dominance. Their apparent size was a symbol of superior femininity and their modest covering a statement of their sanctity.

Maven pulled back her hood to reveal the wise face of an ambassador. Her wrinkles boasted many years of experience and her eyes wore a tired expression of a lady at the end of a long journey. Her hair was now fully grey and hung down the sides of her face. She held herself confidently while entering the throne room. Being from the south, she had a more olive complexion than the pale ladies of Nord.

A large woollen rug featured in the centre of the room with a raging fireplace to the right. At the opposite end of the spacious room sat Queen Ethelburg atop an elevated throne carved from the finest timber. It was a relatively plain throne room compared to the decadence of Maven's home to the south.

The Queen was a towering lady with broad shoulders and even wider hips. She became an accomplished warrior in the Legion of Valkyrie before inheriting the crown decades ago. Her hair was white as snow and her eyes were as blue as the summer sky.

"Ahh Ambassador Ward, how goes the Land of York?" Queen Ethelburg greeted warmly.

Turning her head over her shoulder she called out louder. "Haelen! Refreshments for our guest!" her voice was impatient.

"The preparations for the wedding are going as planned. Goddess willing, the weather will be suitable. We have been following the instructions provided by your witches and preparations for the ceremony are almost complete." Maven smiled tiredly with her hands clasped together in front of her waist underneath her long sleeves. She was standing in the centre of the spacious stone throne room as she delivered her update.

Only months ago, she would have never made reference to any deity at all. Being a Lady of York, she was raised to believe that all spirituality was superstition from the dark ages. But seeing the power of the Goddess first hand had instilled a certain reverence in her.

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