Carson Evolved Ch. 03

Author's Notes:

I must say, sci-fi readers are a little different in their responses to stories than I've seen in the Novels/Novellas category. And it's good. Helps me to think of things a little bit differently.

To all of you returning for this third installment, Thank You! It's gratifying that you enjoyed my story enough to come back again. If you haven't read the first and second chapters, I think you'll probably be a little confused by this chapter. I'd recommend you go back and read those first.

This chapter deals with a subject that I don't have personal experience with, and on top of that, it's a hot-button issue that has a possibility to alienate some readers. For that, I apologize. I hope that I've done the concept a little bit of justice at least. I've tried to show two different perspectives on it, though I, like Carson, don't really understand it. You'll know what it is when you get there.

Please, if you like the story, or if you don't like the story, take a moment to comment. If you want to insult me because you don't like a topic, go ahead and file that in your own trash can; mine's full. But if you have something constructive to add, please do. I'm still a new writer and it helps me quite a bit to see the story through others' eyes.

Finally, as always, all sexual activity takes place between adults.

-MB

*****

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" smirked his assistant, Patterson.

A quick network check indicated that he was pushing things a little, time-wise, but his father would understand. He laughed and said, "You're probably right. But you know how I get about newlyweds."

Patterson just rolled his eyes as his employed settled into the transport, and then closed the door.

As they pulled away from the curb, Jordan van Heuval reflected on the delightful evening he'd spent pounding Mrs. Torry Weathers into her mattress. Afterwards, as her frenzied need to couple with him dissipated, the realization of what she'd done had driven her to hysterics. Crying and begging for him not to tell her husband, he'd simply smirked and told her he'd think about it. Even now, the thought of her tear-stained cheeks made him hard. No matter how many times he cuckolded some stupid husband by planting a baby in his happily married wife, it never got old. For him, what happened afterwards was almost always at least as good as the sex itself.

In this case, the woman was just a girl really. Nineteen years old and married for about four months to her high school sweetheart. When he'd seen her at the club last week, dancing with her friends and having a good time, he'd decided to take her. It wasn't that she was overwhelmingly beautiful. In fact, she was kind of plain. But she possessed a fresh-faced innocence about her that drew him in. A little research by Patterson told him that she often hit the club after work on Fridays. Her husband apparently worked a weekend night shift while attending school during the week. His mistake was Jordan's gain.

When her friends were around, culling a woman from the herd was a delicate operation. This evening, he'd been careful to avoid paying too much attention just to his target. Instead, he'd spent a few hours dancing with her friends as well, keeping the drinks flowing and subtly ramping up the flirtations. A little touch of hands here, holding eye contact a little too long there, sexy dancing on the floor...it all added up to a group of amorous females. Jordan probably could have taken any of them, but he'd fucked literally hundreds of women in the last six years. The downside to having sex on demand was that each encounter was less and less special. So, he chose little games to pique his interest. That's one of the reasons he focused on hard-to-get women almost exclusively these days, and minimized the use of enhancers like the pheromones. Those he reserved largely for closing the deal and pushing his target over the edge.

In the end, under the guise of offering her a ride home, he'd left the club with only Torry. In the enclosed atmosphere of his transport, he'd ramped up the pheromones until she was nearly out of her mind with desire. They'd fallen into her bed, and for the better part of the next two hours, he'd used her in just about every way he knew how. When he'd dumped his last load into her well-used pussy, she'd been exhausted to the point she couldn't close her legs. He could see a little trail of his cum leaking down towards her ass, which was still seeping the remnants of the load he'd deposited there earlier.

The moment didn't always happen the same way with every woman. Some felt guilty in the midst of their passion, while others were quietly overwhelmed as he allowed them to cuddle with him after a particularly strenuous workout. With Torry, it was like a switch had been thrown as she watched him get dressed. Suddenly she realized that she'd just fucked a stranger like a wanton slut, bareback even, and she didn't know how she could live with herself over the betrayal of the man she loved. He could read the thoughts running through her mind as clearly as words on a page. How can I keep Vincent from finding out? Where am I at in my cycle? What if I got pregnant? In a panic, she'd struggled to her knees and begged Jordan not to tell her husband, her guilt flaring when she felt his cum dripping from her pussy. His callous response, and the disdainful way that he looked at her, only fueled her guilt even further.

It had started as a night to remember, but now she only wanted to forget. She began that process as soon as Jordan walked out, closing the door behind him. Torry resolved to give up on girls' nights and drinking, and to be the best wife her husband could ever want. Fortunately for her, they'd been talking about having a baby already, so she'd just pester him for sex on the pretense of making a baby, fucking away the guilt over her indiscretion. Unfortunately for her, Jordan's invading army had already raided the castle. Barring other action, in nine months, Vincent Weathers and his wife were going to welcome a van Heuval bastard into the world.

"We're here, sir." Patterson's announcement snapped Jordan out of his mental wandering. He looked out the window and saw that they'd arrived at the project towers. What's the old man going to criticize me for this time? he wondered. Getting called to his family's office was unusual enough, but a late-night meeting on a Friday? He couldn't remember that ever happening before.

Jordan turned to Patterson in the reception area. "I have a feeling that this is family business. Wait for me out here." Then he strode on, not bothering to wait for the man's acknowledgement. He'd do what he was told, because that was what he was paid to do. He never saw the anger and disgust that Patterson struggled to keep within. He worked for Orriri and believed in its mission. But the longer he worked around Jordan van Heuval, the deeper his misgivings about the direction of the project grew. If Jordan was part of the project's future, they might as well scrap the whole thing, as far as Patterson was concerned.

In spite of his confusion over the need for the meeting, Jordan strolled into his office as though he hadn't a care in the world. He made his way over to the bar and poured himself a healthy slug of scotch. His father watched him, long experience having taught him that the spoiled young man needed to be handled in a certain way if he was going to get anywhere.

Jozef van Heuval was a big man. Even as he approached his 76^th birthday, his back remained straight, his hands strong and steady. He was the picture of a modern Teutonic chieftain, his silver hair still showing traces of the blonde locks he'd once worn, and his piercing, ice-blue eyes clear enough to capture everything that happened in his empire. Looking at his son, his anger and disgust were telling him to snap the bastard's neck and get it over with. Jordan seemed determined to ruin the plans he'd worked his whole life putting into place. Part of him just wanted to feed his son to the dogs and start over. Fortunately for Jordan, despite the years Jozef'd worked to position his family where it was, he was not an especially patient man. Sure, he could father another son or ten, but then he'd have to wait that much longer to taste the sweet fruit of victory. No, he thought, I can't kill him yet. But so help me, I'm going to get through to the little shit if it's the last thing I do.

The younger man turned to his father and said, "You wanted to see me, Father?"

With barely contained anger putting a tremor in his voice, Jozef said, "I don't suppose you've managed to seal the deal with the Cross girl, have you? Have you given any thought to proposing marriage to her? You know that we could use the connection to her family, if we're ever going to take control of the project."

"Is that what this is about? Relax. I'm just taking my time with her. Everyone knows she's choosy, but I've put the word out that she belongs to me. Consider it a done deal." The young man flopped onto the sofa, completely oblivious to the shitstorm that was brewing only a few feet away.

His father took a deep breath to calm himself. The stupid fucker doesn't even know, yet. How the hell could I raise such an idiot? It was a question he'd asked himself far too often in the last couple of years, and it was one that was surely testing the limits of his self-control. He nodded to his son as if agreeing with what he'd said. "Uh huh, you've got it under control?" His son assured him that he did. "Okay. I just have one question, then. If you have it 'under control,' then why is she married to ANOTHER FUCKING PROGENITOR?" he finished with a scream.

Jordan's face went white. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that, while you were busy planting little half-breeds in every airheaded newlywed you can, Samantha Cross got married. To a genesis line, no less," he fumed. "Maybe you should spend just a little bit of time checking on project status every once in a while, what do you think? Do you think you might be able to focus for a couple of minutes on doing what you're supposed to be doing with the resources at our disposal?"

His son had to admit that his father had a point. Once he'd learned he could have just about any woman he wanted, he'd gone a little crazy. He wasn't all that interested in the project for the sake of its goals; he just liked the benefits that he gained from it. So, most of the time he turned off the network connection that kept him updated on the status of Orriri women and just focused on having fun with whatever woman he wanted. He'd only just turned 25, for crying out loud. He wasn't ready to settle down just yet.

The look on his father's face told him he'd better catch up in a hurry. Clicking on the link through his Omnix, he saw what his father was talking about. Some guy named Carson Jayne was now linked through marriage to Samantha Cross...and both Mara and Mila Livingstone? What the fuck? His eyes jerked to his father's face. "Who the fuck is Carson Jayne, and where did he come from that he gets Samantha and the Livingstone twins?" Despite what he'd told his father, Samantha had told him in no uncertain terms that she'd rather her line die out than have a baby with Jordan. And that was much nicer than what Mara and Mila had each told him. It stuck in his craw that the only three Orriri women he'd tried his luck with had shut him down cold. Now they were married to the same guy?

"He's a freaking myth, apparently," said Jozef. "I did some checking around. Seems when Mara went off to school, she met this guy and fell in love with him. The project did its thing, thinking he was a rogue, when lo and behold, it turns out he's from a genesis line that they thought had died out. And the director's got it in his head that he's a missing piece of the puzzle, so he approached Alexander Cross about Samantha directly. One thing led to another, and here we are." Jozef slumped into his seat, a little wind obviously let out of his sails.

For the first time in his petty, self-absorbed life, Jordan felt bad about something, but he also felt like he was fumbling in the dark. His father believed much more strongly in Orriri, that much was obvious. But Jordan had never understood the competitive fire that seemed to burn within the man. "Dad, I...I'm sorry. I know you want good things for me, but it's just not that important to me. What's the big deal if this Carson guy tags a bunch of Orriri women? Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

His father looked at him, quietly contemplating what to tell Jordan. The kid was arrogant and selfish and self-absorbed already. This could either refocus him, or it might exacerbate all of his worst traits. "Do you know what the director of the project does?" he asked his son.

"Not really. I mean, I know he kind of tries to make matches between people to try and breed positive traits. Other than that..." he shrugged.

"That's just about the smallest part of his power that you could have possibly described," said his father. "If the Illuminati were real and possessed half the power that they are rumored to hold, they would be Orriri. And the Director is the puppet master pulling the strings. When he snaps his fingers, presidents and captains of industry pay attention. When he says, 'Jump,' smart men ask, 'How high?' He's maybe the most powerful individual in the entire country."

Jordan whistled low in appreciation. "I had no idea."

"Yeah. And do you know what one of the primary qualifications for becoming the director is, son?"

"No," replied Jordan. "Until a few minutes ago, I pretty much figured it was some egghead scientist."

Jozef chuckled aloud, while inwardly he cringed at his son's simplistic view of the world. My god, the kid's a barely functioning adult, he thought. How could I have ignored the signs for so long? He was self-aware enough to know exactly how that had happened. Jozef has been more focused on making connections and building a network of support, both within and without the project. He'd assumed that his progeny would have the same intellect and drive that he possessed. He shook his head as the realization crystallized that that was not the case.

"It's true that the director needs to have an understanding of science, since our goals are based in a scientific outcome. But he also needs to be a master at networking, shifting the levers of power, and above all else, communicating a vision to keep everyone in line. No, maybe the most basic qualification is to build enough support with the project's genesis lines to tie their futures to your own. You must convince seven of the original twelve families that you are the right fit for the position. Their pledge of support is through blood. In short, you must have children with at least seven genesis-line women to meet the basic threshold for consideration to be elevated to director."

Jordan grinned widely. "If that's the case, it should be a piece of cake. I haven't met a woman yet who could keep her legs closed around me."

His father just stared at his son, stunned at his naïvety. "You don't really believe it's that simple, do you?"

"Are you saying it's not?" asked his son.

Jozef rubbed his hands over his face. I've really made a hash of raising the son I thought I'd pass an empire to, haven't I? To his son, "No, son, it's not that simple. The head of each genesis line sits on the project's council. They meet quarterly to discuss matters pertaining to the project and its business. But one of the most important processes they control is approval of genesis-line pairings. Proposed matches are discussed, the possible gains for the project, how it fits into the overall plan, etc. But even after all that, each family has its own criteria that the candidates have to meet. They aren't bound by the council's approval, only its disapproval."

The two men sat quietly for the next few minutes, pondering the implications of what Jozef had said. Finally, Jordan asked, "So, if I'm clear, even if it makes sense from a project perspective, you still have to convince the family that you're a good fit?"

"That's the short of it, yes," replied his father. "Really, you have to convince the girl."

His son was quiet for another minute, digesting the thought that he was going to have to put some effort into wooing some women if he wanted to improve his standing in the organization. He looked up at his father and asked, "Why didn't you tell me all this before?"

Jozef paused before answering. He sensed this was a pivotal moment that required a certain delicacy. After taking a sip of his scotch, he answered. "For a few reasons, I guess. I was focused on making connections with different people, shoring up our position. I assumed that you'd bore with relentlessly chasing anonymous women at some point, maybe even find someone that you actually enjoyed spending time with. I thought that, once that happened, I'd lay everything out for you. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened. Or at least, it hasn't happened the way I thought it would. You got bored, but you just found new ways to play the game, right?"

Even Jordan had to admit that he hadn't ever given a thought to settling down. He enjoyed the night life, he enjoyed the trappings of wealth that his family had accumulated through the years, and he wasn't exactly ready to give those things up. In the end, he nodded his agreement with his father's assessment, watching him warily for what came next.

His father scooted forward in his seat, resting his forearms on his knees. "Jordan, I have worked long and hard to put our family in position to ascend to the directorship when it comes open again. That's not likely to be for a number of years, but we need to do the groundwork now. That way, when it happens, we're prepared."

He tapped a spot on his forearm and Jordan's Omnix pinged. When he looked at the display, he saw a list of names that he recognized were the twelve genesis families. At a thought, he expanded the Livingstone family. He saw Mara's and Mila's names written in gold, as was their mother's, but their father's name was written in dark blue. Each of their names were linked to Carson Jayne's, though Helena was also linked to her husband. The daughters had golden connections, while Helena's connection to Carson was silver, and blue to her husband. There were several other names that he didn't recognize, but from their position, he assumed they were deceased ancestors; their names were all grayed out. Curious, he selected another family at random.

The Lund family was a large one. Three generations were still represented, the family headed by its matriarch, Helga. Her husband was apparently deceased, but her two sons and three daughters were all linked to other names, all silver or gold except one daughter, whose husband was dark blue. Jordan opened her son Iver's name. He had the misfortune, as far as Jordan was concerned, of having four daughters, but no sons. Three of the daughters were silver- or gold-linked, but the baby of the family, Elsa, was not. Clicking on her name allowed Jordan to see what the woman looked like.

He was absolutely blown away. Her Swedish heritage was on full display. Golden blond hair, big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks, she looked to be in her early 20s. Instantly, Jordan wondered why she was not linked like the rest of her family. Clearly, they expected their daughters to make babies early and often.