Altered Genesis Ch. 15

Later that evening.

The vibrant hum of conversation and sensual jazz did little to relax Dean as he took another sip of his zero-calorie cocktail. He scanned the room while listening to Mary rattle on about some problem in accounting then forced his attention back to her in an effort to show interest.

Mary was sitting next to him; a little closer than he would like. Her first two drinks had gotten her talking and her genuine passion had begun to shine through. As usual, her stories were about some petty office politics which he found interminably dull. Unfamiliar accounting terms were thrown around, but he did his best to nod at the important points.

He was the only male sitting at a table with five senior employees, any of whom could put in a good word for him with Riya. Especially Mary, who had been causing Riya some problems with upper management ever since she stuck her neck out to get him hired. Dean had noticed that Riya was quite agreeable to Mary's requests as a result, which was no small feat.

Their faces responded with confident understanding as Mary continued venting her frustrations about the junior staff. Dean did his best to understand, but knew that the jargon was beyond him.

For a moment, he regretted accepting the offer for drinks. While taking a bigger sip of his cocktail, he reminded himself to focus on getting on Mary's good side.

Mary told a joke about Brent filing some invoices incorrectly and Dean laughed on queue. He felt guilty for undermining the new receptionist, especially since he had trained Brent himself.

She smiled proudly at Dean; pleased that she had made him laugh. He felt a knot in his stomach when he saw a spark of desire reveal itself in her eyes for an instant.

"Alright ladies, this one's on me," Mary announced, "Hurry up and finish your drink Dean. No falling behind."

She encouraged him with a hand on his lower back.

The other four ladies at the table responded with a cheer as he downed the last third of his glass.

"Good boy! Same again honey," she said confidently.

This would be Dean's third trip to the bar to fetch a round of drinks. The ladies reassured him that the bar manager would always serve hot boys first, so it was just easier for everyone if he did the leg work.

This time, instead of handing him the one hundred credit bill, she slid it down the front of his elastic leggings, in the sensitive navel area between the lowest contours of his abs and the base of his cock's shaft. The note nestled snuggly in the hard depression in the front of his hips which made his athletic V-shape below his abs. She continued pushing it along the hard contour that lead the way to his most intimate offering. The note slid into his waistband until one end touched the hidden base of his young cock.

The table erupted in laughter as they watched the face of the great Eleanor Primrose, rub against his bare skin.

Dean got up and yanked it from his waistband with a playful smirk.

"You're incorrigible Mary!" he huffed playfully, eliciting even bigger cackles from the accounting department.

None of the ladies could resist a glance at Dean's round buttocks jiggling firmly as he walked away. They were presented beautifully by his tight elastic work trousers.

After the ladies had lost sight of him in the crowd, Diane broke the silence, "You gonna have a ride on that tonight, Mary?"

"Oh my Goddess, Diane," Rebecca blurted out with closed eyes.

"Oh come on, you were all thinking it," Diane added, "You've got him all firm for you, boss."

"Firm for a promotion more like it," Ashley corrected with a furrowed brow.

"I don't think he's in chastity, you oughta' go for the kill!" Diane smirked.

"Are you sure? Those SS boys seem to prefer being locked," Rebecca said, "And some of those devices are pretty stealthy."

"You would know Becca. Your roommate told me all about your little hobby last week," Mary said.

"Haha! What!?" Kate chimed in.

"The design of male discipline devices," Ashley said.

Kate's mouth hung open.

"For, you know, healthier relationships," she added mischievously.

"Go on!" Kate bellowed comically, eliciting raucous laughter from the table.

"First of all, I needed to do something with my engineering degree," Rebecca shrugged innocently, "And they aren't for discipline, they're safety systems. Some of the technology is just incredible. There is so much innovation in that space."

"Bring on the cunnilingus revolution!" Ashley raised her glass.

The table erupted in laughter. Kate leaned back clapping her hands and Mary covered her mouth in a futile attempt at keeping her drink inside, only making the cackling more hysterical.

"Sounds good to me," Fiona spoke up, "Take away the male vote and we'll be set."

"Wow, now now," Mary said, "Careful with that political talk around our boy."

"Hahaha, yeah. Eleanor was telling me that he's been a bit of male rights nuisance lately," Ashley said.

"Yeah, he's not like Brent. He does have some reactionary tendencies," Mary said.

"Brent told me he's voting femme lib, so he's more my type," Fiona said.

Ashley nodded.

"What happened to Dean anyway, I thought that he was quite religious?" Diane said.

"Got bitter when his real career went south," Fiona said.

"His real one?" Kate smiled quizzically.

"Yeah, with Supreme Sisters, not this silly game of pretend he's up to now," Fiona flicked her wrist dismissively.

"Well I know Mary's glad to have him on board," Diane smirked.

Mary started turning red as the ladies started chuckling again.

"Can you imagine the disappointment when she swoops in for the win only to find him locked up like a good boy," Kate laughed.

"Aww, don't worry Mary," Ashley added, "Those cages make them much better at licking pussy, right Rebecca?"

Rebecca grimaced and pouted, unable to think of a response. Prompting more laughter at her expense.

"He'd do it too," Kate said, "He's been hanging on your every word tonight boss."

"He'll definitely hang on your every word when you get him on his knees," Ashley leaned back smugly.

Laughter surged around the table again.

"Oh Goddess, I think someone needs a cold shower over here," Diane said shaking her head in jest.

"Just promise us you won't give him a promotion for it," Fiona said to Mary.

"I'll give him a private performance review tonight if you promise not to tell the hubby," Mary chuckled.

--

Once Dean arrived at the bar, the manager spotted him while supervising her staff. She weaved between two young, scantily clad males working the bar and walked past four femme so that she could greet him first. Her grey hair was tied back in a plain and practical ponytail but she was dressed in an expensive suit.

"Same again, sugar?" she flashed a grin that revealed two gold fillings in her teeth.

"Yes please," he confirmed.

As she poured tequila into the cocktail shaker, Dean glanced to his right to see a femme in her thirties with a bitter expression on her face. Dean didn't know how long she had been waiting there.

He was beginning to realise that his university professors had a point; being male did come with many privileges.

Dean cleared his throat and looked back to the bar manager who was now shaking the cocktail mixer in time with a syncopated jazz beat. He hated jazz, his idea of a good night out was deafening dance music and a dark club full of young femme competing for his attention.

He shuffled his shoulders to the slow licentious beat in an attempt to ignore the hostile attitude of the femme next to him.

He looked away from the stranger to survey the crowd. The venue catered to the more mature and sophisticated tastes of the senior management executives and drink prices were exorbitant to match. The upside was that he didn't have to pay for his own drinks and he got a chance to make friends with some important ladies in the company.

He looked back at the accounting ladies through the crowd. They had finished their meals over an hour ago but didn't appear to be slowing down. If anything, they were only getting more lively. Dean could see raucous knee slapping laughter as Mary accidently spat her drink, unable to control herself. Beer dribbled down her chin, onto the table and her blouse. The unflattering sight made him feel a lump in his throat. He closed his eyes and locked those feelings away.

He felt out of place in a room full of middle-aged people enjoying in-depth conversations, a far cry from the dark dance floors that were familiar to him. It was difficult to find any femme below thirty in the entire room. Despite three quarters of the patrons being femme, he found very few of them to be attractive.

On the contrary, the venue's staff, minus the bar manager, was exclusively male. As the waiters made their way between tables taking orders and fetching drinks, Dean surmised they were hired mainly for their good looks and chiselled physiques to appeal to the clientele. His observation led him to their uniforms -- consisting of a low-cut tank top, mini-shorts that exposed half their lower butt, a bowtie collared around their necks and wrist cuffs to complete the "butler in the buff" look. With so much male flesh on display, Dean felt sorry for the boys when he caught glimpses of them getting caressed and fondled by the venue's alcohol-fuelled patrons.

A male in his thirties carried a beer and a cocktail back to a table of business ladies and their husbands. He gave his wife the beer and kissed her on the cheek before taking a sip of the cocktail. Her eyes followed a waiter passing by as she started gulping her beer. The husbands all appeared to be at least ten years younger than the ladies.

He could feel the second drink loosening his upper body as he continued to subtly move to the music.

"You've been here before, handsome?" the voice of the bar manager pulled his attention forward.

"Nah," he responded with a surprised tone.

"Funny, you look familiar. Such a hot boy, I've probably seen you in my dreams," she said while staring into him.

Dean tried not to roll his eyes, "I guess that I've got one of those faces."

He felt a sinking anxiety.

"I guess so."

The manager slid the tray of drinks towards him, "If you're looking for a job, we're always taking on new recruits. My other place up town has an opening. A sexy boy like you could make over one thousand a week there."

His eyebrows shot up for a moment. He did miss the money he got dancing and, for a moment, felt tempted because he only made 650 credits per week at Aphrodite Campaigns.

"Wow," he said politely, "That's not bad."

"Especially a boy with your skills and experience," she smirked.

"I've been following your work for some time, Dean. Ladies would tip a porn star like you in Eleanors."

She handed him her card and he slipped it into his waistband despite having no intention of ever calling her. He suspected that the job involved much more than just serving drinks; all too aware of how this type of business wouldn't play by the rules. He gave her a nervous smile before collecting the drinks and making his way back to the table.

The crowd was getting thicker as more patrons continued to arrive. Navigating the steady stream of new arrivals slowed him on his trip back to the table. With most of the crowd being ladies who stood a head taller than him in their heels, he struggled to see where he was going while being buffeted to his left.

A hand grabbed his right buttock firmly. Fingernails digging deeply into his flesh gave it an unmistakably feminine characteristic. He flinched and his back straightened but he could do nothing to defend his modesty while carrying a tray full of drinks. He wasn't even sure who it was.

After escaping the thickest area of the crowd, he turned around to search for a culprit but saw nothing other than ladies, their occasional male companions and the barely clothed waiters making their way to and from the bar.

Dean delivered the drinks, handing them out one-by-one, making sure to serve Mary first. As he sat down, he took the opportunity to shift his stool away from her slightly, only to have her move closer when she tucked hers in.

A comedian went on stage shortly after. She was a femme in her forties who was well received by the intoxicated audience.

He sat quietly next to Mary, grateful that she was too distracted by the performance to ask him any more probing questions in front of everyone.

Energy in the room began to build towards the end of the comedy set.

"I still can't believe that this country used to let males be president. Boys, no offense, but it seems like getting into the world of politics and important decision-making is hardly playing to your strengths. I mean, sure, you have two brains. But the only one functioning is the one in your cock, am I right?"

Dean rolled his eyes, having heard countless iterations of this joke since high school. Back then, girls would tease him and his male classmates by saying how "boys think with their cocks and not their heads". He remembered how this type of casual sexism was even encouraged by their teachers; some of whom would mockingly tell the girls to be slower and more patient when dealing with boys because "they aren't designed for thinking tasks like we are." And in sex Ed, he once overheard a senior teacher joking to one of the girls that "the penis draws oxygen from the brain and makes them think of sex. Try to remember that before judging boys too harshly for being slow. I certainly don't mind silly boys one bit."

These jokes annoyed Dean to no end. Obviously, it was femme who were obsessed with sex all the time, not males. Sometimes it seemed like that was all that they thought about, especially after menopause. Dean was convinced that it was actually femme who thought with their pussies. But just because a big erection can make a boy a bit lightheaded and foggy, suddenly it means all boys are stupid.

Another wave of laughter moved through the crowd.

"Who was the last male president? Mary Blackwood's husband, what's his name, John Blackwood. See, I remember Mary's name better than Johnny. I just remember jilling off to him all through college."

The crowd roared to even bigger laughs.

"I can just imagine the conservatives having a meeting and one of them is like 'Okay ladies, we finally lost the argument. Now that we are under UN governance we may as well go nuclear. Let's bring in a hot young stud to make our dumb policies seem pretty. What's that? They won't trust him? Wait, I know. Let's make sure that he has a wife 20 years older than him. They'll trust him then.'"

Laughter and applause reverberated through the room.

"This was me in college," she closed her eyes and mimed putting her hand down her skirt, "Your wife told you to promote this policy?! What else did she tell you to do? Did she tell you to take off that tight little shirt and lick her pussy? Oh wow. I don't know what he just said, but I like it!"

Another wave of laughter erupted.

"You ladies know what I'm talking about. You're supposed to be listening to your secretary, but you are too busy picturing him naked."

Mary spat her drink back into her glass, causing Dean to shudder slightly.

"Nah I get it. It's an effective political strategy. Problem is that we all know that the President needs to make important decisions. Us ladies, we just need a quickie and we're good to go. Not Johnny, I'd bet any money that old prim and proper Mary Blackwood had that presidential cock locked down tight. And I don't think she was as traditional as she said. You don't marry an ex-underwear model 20 years your junior without taking certain precautions."

"Hell yeah!" one older lady screamed out from the back.

"See this old femme gets it! The rest of you are too damn shy!"

Another wave of laughter rolled through the room.

"She came here alone you see! That's because her young hubby is at home doing the dishes and washing laundry in his metal cage while she's out workin' her game on the butler boys."

An even bigger wave of feminine laughter erupted again.

"Oh yep, there it is! She's waving her key around like she just won a medal."

"Alright, sit down already. Don't rub it in, you old hag."

The audience laughed again. And the comedian began to pace.

"Now where was I? Oh yes, precautions. I think old Mary really got off on keeping hubby in line. 'What's that honey? You don't like the speech I wrote for you? No boygasms for a week then!'"

The crowd roared with laughter, causing Mary to slap Dean's knee and not bothering to move it away.

"She probably had that horny boy wrapped around her finger!"

Mary's hand suddenly twitched, gripping Dean's thigh ever so slightly for a split second, her advance hidden under the table. His heart pounded heavily and his penis began to inflate in response to her boldness. She was telling him what she wanted and his penis obeyed despite the revulsion he felt.

"And then she would send him off to negotiate with the Chinese while he was all backed up. As soon as Chairlady Xao makes an offer he's like, 'Yes ma'am, if that pleases you!'"

The males smiled politely and the ladies slapped knees in cacophonous feminine laughter.

Dean had noticed that this type of humour had been growing in popularity since his high school days. In fact, the more degrading the jokes, the more popular the comedians became.

But there was some truth to what she was saying. The occasional male still served as a governor or senator but almost all those positions were now occupied by femme and the gap in representation was only continuing to widen.

"Seriously! How crazy is that?! You have a boy with a thing dangling between his legs taking up more blood than his brain who is making important decisions! That was only twenty years ago that we had a male President! How are we still alive!?" she gawked in disbelief to an appreciative audience.

"It's an inflatable dildo designed to make a lady feel good and get him to do anything that she says!" she paused for a moment.

"And there ain't no thinkin' going on when that thing is hard, sister!" she yelled into the microphone.

Mary rocked back and forth next to Dean as she laughed uncontrollably. Her hand migrated to the inside of his thigh. Any higher and she would have encountered his hardening unprotected cock. For the first time in his life, he wished that he was locked so that he could avoid the impending humiliation of an erection.

Ever since he worked in porn, his cock would always respond to the confident advances of a femme with eager submission. Even an ugly old lady like Mary would trigger him. The way that she confidently pursued him with selfish fervour unleashed a dark desire that had been programmed into him. Part of him was ecstatic that the most powerful lady at the table wanted to have him. Such a lady could certainly protect and provide while granting him a certain status. He hated the part of himself that felt that way.

He did his best to think of boring work stuff, but the alcohol made it difficult to focus.

He delicately parried her wrinkled hand away just before her red manicured nail made contact with his bulge. He smiled in an effort to look natural, not daring to show the revulsion and confusion he felt.

Up close, Dean could see her coffee-stained teeth and dozens of lines on her face. Her breath was heavily laden with alcohol. She continued to stare at the stage as if nothing had happened.

"President Blackwood, they called him!"

"Chairlady Xao is like, 'Hey Dumbwood! Make me dinner while you're at it you dumb white buck!'"

A lady at the next table accidentally spat some of her drink at this punchline. Dean cringed every time he heard the word "buck". It was a trendy word which was used to refer to a prostitute.