Altered Genesis Ch. 12

Dean hugged the edge of the pristine leather lounge while staring at his phone.

"What a small world! I thought you looked familiar," said the tall and slender young lady who was sitting on the other end of the lounge, "I almost didn't recognize you because I barely ever went to professor Belmont's lectures."

Dean swallowed hard and didn't return her gaze. He glanced up to the young man behind the reception desk who didn't appear to be paying attention to the exchange.

Apparently this femme had been in his cohort in college but he didn't remember meeting her before in his life.

"Has she been interviewing many boys?"

"I don't know," Dean spoke without looking away from the safety of his phone.

He noticed the receptionist was a young man, and apparently the only male in the office. Staff had been passing through reception to go home at the end of the work day; all of them were femme.

"Hmm," the girl rubbed her chin and looked around, "From what I hear, boys can't hack it on the creative teams here these days. You must be pretty special if you landed an interview. I had to get a recommendation from professor Belmont just to book this appointment myself. It's nice that they still give boys a chance though."

He didn't know what to say so he just sat in silence. Placing one had on the arm of the lounge chair, he shifted to make more room for the chastity cage which had an ever-present hold on his masculinity. Each time it pinched him was another reminder of his place in the world. Shifting his weight sent a soft tingle through his perpetually sore buttocks. It was impossible to get through a shift at Lady Lakshmi's Palace without coping a few blows from a drunk old lady or two.

Only 18 hours ago, Dean had been dancing on stage dressed up in a Starboy costume. The ridiculous superhero outfit was even more revealing than the tight spandex of the comics and movie adaptation. Dean wore the boots, the neck collar and a much smaller version of the chest armour that left nothing to the imagination. Of course, he wasn't on stage long before ripping his g-string pouch off like a wanton slut, showing off his shamefully hard cock and naughty red butt cheeks to countless strangers.

Everything made sense up there on stage. He always knew what to do under those warm lights. Hearing the reaction of the ladies in the audience made him feel confident and in control. He had worked hard to become the best dancer in the club; it was his world.

But now, in the centre of Gynohale, everything was different. He couldn't even find the correct floor without help from one of the janitors. Despite doing well in school, this place intimidated him unlike anything.

He wanted to open a window and fly away just like Starboy. But even that didn't seem to ever help the young super hero. Despite being able to fly, he always managed to get captured by the villain in every one of the 'Vigilant' movies. Since he wasn't good for anything else, fighting wasn't an option either. He would always play the damsel for the real hero. Vigilant would perform some remarkable feat to save the city and rescue Starboy. She would always be rewarded with a deep passionate kiss before grabbing a handful his toned butt.

Dean had to work again tonight. Instead of the Starboy costume he would be wearing a collar and puppy dog ears. The patrons always seemed to tip a little better when the boys were dressed in that theme every Thursday night. Lady Lakshmi was always looking for new creative outfits that were pleasing to the feminine gaze regardless of how humiliating they were for the boys. Dean sometimes wondered if the humiliation was exactly what appealed to that type of lady.

Now was his big chance to get out of that place for good; to stop selling his body. If this interview went well, the cock between his legs would belong to him again, and not just be some bargaining chip for a sleazy old porn director.

--

"Thank you Eleanor. Your references are very impressive. I'll be in touch in a day or so," said Riya.

She stood and shook the hand of the tall college graduate.

Riya was sitting again before the applicant had closed the door behind herself.

She glanced back down at the resume. It wasn't an impressive interview; the applicant had stumbled over a couple of basic questions. But she was an outstanding candidate because her mother was a senator, the kind if connection that could be invaluable for doing business in America.

Riya had done her research. A close relationship with the government was always good for business back home in India, but in America it was essential. The right connections could do more than open up work, they could also help overcome various licensing and resourcing problems. This was a fact that she found distasteful. Like it or not, she had to hire Eleanor.

Riya swivelled in her chair and gazed out over the beautiful view of the Gynohale business district. As much as America was the cultural leader of the world, she worried that it was leading everyone off a cliff. There was a reason that every skyscraper in view was at least 50 years old. In Mumbai, there would always be a new one coming up. America's biggest export was her creative and cultural zeal, not her prosperity. Long gone were the days of patriarchy. Although most of her colleagues were convinced that the remnants of patriarchy were to blame for the stagnating economy so she kept these thoughts to herself.

She tapped her pen against her desk and ran her fingers over it. The hard steel and glass of Gynohale shone with a brilliant orange in the late afternoon sun.

Butterflies filled her stomach again. A boy had made it past screening. Not just any boy; Dean Johnson himself. She could hardly believe that she would be sitting across from him.

His resume was even more surreal. He was second in his class. Occasionally she would see similar academic performance from boys back home but American boys seemed to be too concerned with spending time at the gym or the salon to study. And the ones who couldn't afford those activities just worked as labourers.

"Full of surprises," she mumbled to herself.

Her eyes skipped down to the bottom of the page to see that he had no work experience.

"That's not entirely accurate," she thought.

Riya immediately chastised herself for reducing the only remaining male applicant to a sexual object.

"I'd better not ask about work experience," she thought.

Then she wondered if he might recognise her; how humiliated she would feel to be exposed as a horny, sexist middle aged lady who hangs out in strip clubs.

"Don't worry Riya," she soothed herself, "he didn't see you that night at the club. Besides, if he had any idea that management for Aphrodite campaigns held meetings at Domina Lakshmi's Palace he never would have applied to begin with."

BEEP

The intercom made her jump.

"Yes Mike."

"Lady Patel. We have a... Dean Johnson next."

"Send him in"

"As you wish ma'am."

Riya stared at the door handle for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly, it began to move and her heart stopped. The first thing she saw was his toned masculine shape. Broad shoulders and carved legs that were well suited to labour. Her eyes automatically moved to his crouch, but he was dressed to look professional. He wore leggings that revealed a hint of a genital bulge without giving everything away. The buttons of his thin short-sleeved shirt struggled to contain his beautifully carved chest. His eyes and face were glorious. He smiled nervously at her and his deep blue eyes almost glowed. The last time she saw that smile, his face was covered in a thick creamy film of some luck lady's cum, before licking his lips clean and looking into the camera saying, "Wow! Thank you domina!"

The same warmth entered Riya's body just as it did while she was watching him dance only a week ago.

Riya sighed and realised that she had been holding her breath.

"Good afternoon Dean. Take a seat."

"Yes ma'am."

Dean managed to make even the most mundane of tasks seem like a dance. He sat with nervous poise. His back was straight, and subtle smile tense with a hint of vulnerability.

She held his fate in her hands.

Riya had forgotten what to say next. He was the last interview of the day, and by now she could run an interview in her sleep. But all she could think about was how she shouldn't think of that video where he takes a spray of thick pussy juice to the face.

She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs while frantically searching for her notes. This only made her dampness more difficult to ignore. She silently admonished herself for her lack of professionalism and cleared her throat before opening her mouth to speak, but nothing came to mind. Then she poured herself a drink and took a sip while flicking back to her questions.

A moment ago she was a consummate professional, but this pretty boy barely half her age had reduced her to giddy school girl.

It had been a full minute of silence and Dean stood still like a piece of artwork. He didn't even think of opening his mouth. He just sat there with humble poise. Any candidate that she had already interviewed for the job would have opened her mouth by now. But Dean was stoic, patient, and respectful; only adding to his uniquely masculine appeal.

Finally, Riya's eyes glanced over her notes and she struggled not to bite her own lip in frustration. How did she forget the opening?!

"So Dean, what makes you suitable for a position on the marketing team?"

"Perspective. I can't help but notice that your creative teams are entirely femme. While market forces and cultural initiatives dictate that the feminine perspective shall be primary, a secondary view can be helpful in some instances. Men still account for over ten percent of annual consumption, I believe that I am well positioned to help the team gain an edge in this area."

Riya raised her eyebrows. That was the most cogent answer she had heard all day.

"Only ten percent? Is that worth altering our messaging, and at what cost?"

Her tone was more adversarial than she intended. Did she find it threatening that he was already doing much better than any of the femme candidates? She silently admonished herself for her sexist attitudes.

"Well, a man can have subtle influence over a femme. So winning men over will be worth much more than just ten percent. And I believe that it can be done without switching off the femme audience."

"Good answer Dean. I like a boy who can perform under pressure."

"Thank you lady Patel," he smiled innocently.

He had already proven his worth, but what did it matter? The job was going to Eleanor no matter what. At this stage the interview was a formality. Albeit, one that she wanted to prolong as much as possible.

Riya was sure to ask him every question on the sheet, and even managed come up with some additional ones. After a while she found herself filling the conversation, anything to spend more time with him and enjoy his supernatural handsomeness. No matter the question, he would respond gracefully like a trained stallion. She found his masculine energy intoxicating.

"So, tell me some more about yourself. Any hobbies?"

"Oh you know, hanging out with friends."

"Wonderful, social life is central at Aphrodite Campaigns. We believe that it keeps the creative juices flowing. We all get three hour lunch breaks everyday!"

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Really!? That's amazing!"

"Yeah! It gives us time to mingle, chat and enjoy ourselves. Self care and creative stimulation are critical. The three hour lunch would be plenty of time for your girlfriend to come and take you to a movie if you liked."

"Oh," Dean said, "I'm single. It helps me focus on my career."

"Oh my Goddess!" Riya said before she could stop herself. She didn't believe in Dibella but had picked up the habit of saying that since moving to America. It seemed like everyone at Aphrodite Campaigns spoke like that, even the boys in reception.

"How? I find that so hard to believe. A young man as handsome and capable as you? And in this day and age!"

That was the last straw. She had to have him on-board somehow, but the only position had been filled. She had to come up with something.

"I admire your courage and commitment to your career. We need more of that in this company. So, I'd like to offer you a position on a trial basis."

"Really!? Oh yes that sounds wonderful! I can start tomorrow if you like!"

"Perfect! That settles it then come with me. I'll introduce you to Michael, our office assistant. He'll be showing you the ropes tomorrow."

Riya opened the door for Dean and felt a pang of guilt as she glanced at his butt while he walked through the door. She already knew that it was firm, young and athletic but that only made it harder to resist taking at least one look.

Michael looked up from his computer and his eyes darted around in confusion. Every other candidate had exited alone; even Eleanor.

"Michael, I'd like you to meet Dean. He's going to be your assistant starting tomorrow," she smiled.

Both boys looked at her with confused expressions.

"Forgive me lady Patel, but I thought the available position was on a creative team," Dean said.

Michael seconded that query with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm afraid that position has already been filled sweetie. But we also need another office assistant. This is you're chance to get your foot in the door. The sky is the limit from here," Riya did her best to sell it but could not hide the tone of consolation in her voice.

"Okay," Dean dropped his head ever so slightly, "I'll take the job."

"Wonderful! I'll see you at 9 am tomorrow."

After a hand shake and pleasantries, Dean was gone. She felt bitter sweet as she watched her favourite butt disappear behind the elevator doors.

"Don't worry Mike. I'm getting you an extra pair of hands. You won't be replaced."

Michael frowned, "Yes ma'am."

"That was a long interview!" the unmistakable sing-song tone came from behind her.

It was Mary from accounting. The last person Riya wanted to see right now.

"Now don't try to tell me that fine piece of ass had a lot of intelligent things to say," she mocked.

"Actually he's quite sharp," Riya turned to Mary, "Second in his class."

"Come on Riya. You don't need to make up these ridiculous excuses, it's 2193. You can just be open about it. There's nothing wrong with getting a free lap dance and pussy licking to spice up an interview," Mary smirked.

Riya frowned.

"I'll prepare Dean's contract now lady Patel," Michael said.

Riya never took her eyes off Mary's frozen expression.

"What? I thought the job was going to Eleanor. Riya, what have you done!?"

"Don't worry, I did give it to Eleanor. I just think that Michael needs some help. The toilets and kitchen don't get cleaned frequently enough because Michael is too busy manning reception while procuring supplies and organising events. Poor Michael is run off his feet," Riya said.

"You hired a new secretary?!"

"Yes"

"As well as a new creative team member?"

"That's right."

"My Goddess Riya. That's not what we agreed to in the meeting last week. What did the little slut do for you in there!?"

Mary pushed her glasses into the bridge of her nose and rubbed her forehead.

Riya chuckled agreeably, desperate to lighten the mood.

--

Dean made his way across the broken tiles and knocked on the old wooden door. He hoped that this would be his last visit the Supreme Sisters pad.

After a long pause, the door creaked open with the chain bolt still locked. A strikingly handsome blonde with a baby face peaked around the corner and looked Dean up and down. He was definitely lady Lockwood's type.

"I need to speak with Lady Lockwood. Tell her it's Dean Johnson."

"I know who you are, I've studied your work," he said with an almost challenging gaze.

There was a pause.

"Are you going to let me in?"

"Once you are dressed properly, I'll be happy to."

Dean looked himself up and down. He had come straight from his interview and was still in his office outfit, which he already thought was a bit on the slutty side.

"This is fine," he said.

"The sisterhood are very strict on this now. Boys don't wear clothes in the pad. Nudity reminds us of our proper place and honours Goddess," the new recruit said flatly.

He wasn't a day over 20 and already sounded totally brainwashed by this cult.

Dean's cock pressed against it's cage as if urging him forward down the path to freedom. Or was he simply aroused by the idea of being forced parade himself before a bunch of femme supremacists? He preferred to believe the former.

He looked down the hall to see a teenager arriving home from school. She stared curiously at the odd standoff down the hall before entering her apartment.

"I don't have all day old man," the new recruit said bitingly.

Dean clenched his jaw to stop himself from firing back. This boy was only a few years younger than him, but Dean knew better. Some boys really knew how to get under a guy's skin.

"Cage only. No shoes," the host added.

Dean gave up on hoping that he might be afforded even modicum of dignity.

Fortunately the hallway was empty so there were no bystanders to see his lewd presentation before he entered.

The young host wore nothing but a cock cage and led him towards the living room. Dean couldn't help but notice the blonde host's firm blushing backside as lead the way. This replacement blonde had certainly worked hard on weights to achieve a muscular butt that seemed to dwarf Dean's.

"Be quiet. We are filming," the host whispered.

An aggressive male voice emanated from the living room, "For the patriarchy!"

"Aarrggh guuh!"

Lady Lockwood was standing at the entrance to the living room which was at the end of the hallway. She leaned against the wall with a hand on her hip. Her back was facing Dean as she watched the scene unfold with total focus.

By the time Dean reached living room, Rita Gynohold had wrestled the young man to the floor and was disassembling his gun.

THUMP

Rita struck the boy in the abdomen with a powerful blow to completely knock the wind out of him. Then she effortlessly pinned both of his arms to the floor like a giant amazon warrior. Dean felt fear run through him as this brought back vivid memories of his own scene with Rita.

SLAP WHACK SLAP

Rita pummelled the disoriented boy with three consecutive open hand slaps to the face. With his arms immobilized he was completely defenceless.

"Filthy meninist!" she shouted before opening up on him again.

THUMP WHACK SLAP

This was a level or two above anything Dean had to endure in his scene with her, and the blows seemed very real. The boy was too dazed to do anything as she took a knife to his shirt and began cutting it away.

She must have weighed three times as much as the boy and was at least a foot taller. With such a physical advantage, she handled him with ease.

Flipping around on top of him, Rita took the knife to his shorts, severing the waist band either side of his vulnerable package before ripping them clean off. She had completely disrobed him in a matter seconds despite his best efforts to defend himself.

His head had completely disappeared under her enormous feminine butt which was modestly hidden by a loose fitting night gown. Both of his arms were pinned to the floor by her knees and his legs were flailing in the air, blindly looking for something to kick or grapple. It was then that Dean noticed an immense flaccid penis and proportionally large balls flopping around for all to see. The camera lady began shifting her position to get a better view of the inadvertently erotic display.

Dean flinched ever so slightly as he recognized the half-flaccid cock before him. It was Ken. His unnaturally large endowment was unmistakable, Dean had seen it very close up in several scenes they had done together and it was even bigger than his own. He had noticed how many of the ladies preferred Ken because of his uniquely appealing male asset. Part of him felt a little bit of satisfaction to see the proud boy getting subdued in such a humiliating way.