tagSci-Fi & FantasyFrom the Files of the ADT

From the Files of the ADT


As the light rail car came to a halt and the doors opened, Alvin Kotzwinkle turned up the collar on his top coat and pulled it tighter around him. The blast of winter air was bitter, almost as bitter as his resentment. He'd been at work the day before, slaving away over the charts and tables at his uncle's accounting firm when the phone rang.


"Yes, Mr. Kotzwinkle. My name is Alondra Beard and I'm from the Agency for Domestic Tranquility. We've scheduled an appointment for you at nine thirty Wednesday morning."

"What? What do I need an appointment with the ADT for? I'm happy enough."

"Mr. Kotzwinkle, everything is not about your happiness. As I'm sure you are aware the Supreme Court has upheld the agency's enabling legislation and compliance is your civic duty. Please be prompt."

Ms. Beard had peremptorily hung up leaving Alvin offended. He'd called the office assistant and told her to deal with the problem only to have Sooki look him in the eye and state coolly, "Mr. Kotzwinkle, one does not 'deal with' the Agency for Domestic Tranquility. They want you to go to an appointment? You go. End of discussion." And she'd turned on her heel and walked away.

Muttering under his breath on the appointed day, Alvin trudged down the snowy sidewalk. Working for his uncle wasn't particularly exciting but it paid well and kept his mind busy. Most important, it was indoors and warm. In time Alvin would inherit the company and when he did, the young man was determined to move the headquarters to Miami or San Diego. Any place where snow was nothing but an ugly rumor or decoration on a wall calendar would do but he did dream of sandy beaches and girls in bikinis. He was unsure why but attracting female attention from anyone younger than his silver-haired aunts was proving difficult. Maybe it's my name, he thought. I'll bet even an accountant wouldn't be lonely if his name were Sean McCloud.

Arriving at the Agency for Domestic Tranquility at the stroke of half past nine, he glowered at the unoffending receptionist and muttered gruffly, "Alvin Kotzwinkle. I've been told I have an appointment?"

The dark-skinned girl smiled in response and looked at her monitor. "Ah, yes, Mr. Kotzwinkle. You are to see Ms. Beard in room 301. Just take the elevator up to the third floor and turn right. It will be right there. And Mr. Kotzwinkle—smile. It's good for you."

Opening the door in Room 301 Alvin received another smile from a young man in a white coat over a shirt and tie. "Ah, Mr. Kotzwinkle, Ms. Beard is expecting you. Come this way, please, and let me take your topcoat."

Ushered through the next door Alvin found himself facing an imposingly tall woman wearing her auburn hair in a tight bun and garbed in a severe blouse and pencil skirt. She stood and gestured to one of the club chairs in front of her desk, smiled faintly, sat back down and keyed up a file on her computer monitor. The corners of her mouth again twitched upwards.

"Mr. Kotzwinkle, I am pleased to reveal that you have an exceptionally clean genetic record and . . ."

"What? What are you doing looking at my genetic record? That's my private information."

Ms. Beard sighed in resignation, as though she had heard this only too often. "Mr. Kotzwinkle, as required by law all good citizens donate blood quarterly, just as they are all obligated for jury duty and organ donation in the event of untimely death. When you donate blood, that pint becomes the property of the Agency to do with as we see fit. Naturally one of the things we do with it is run a complete DNA screen. Please be assured the records are secure within the Agency. We've become very good at detecting any attempts to hack into them and at transporting the offenders to maximum security confinement on Luna base.

Now as I was saying, nearly everyone has some defect hidden in their chromosomes just waiting to jump out and disable a poor fetus. You, remarkably, have none and that makes you a prime candidate for sperm donation to those couples who need one. Straight couples where the man has a low count, couples with incompatible charts or lesbian couples. Therefore . . ."

Kotzwinkle leapt to his feet in a fit in indignation. "What? You want me to—absolutely not! This is ridiculous. I'm leaving! The government has no right . . ."

"Sit down, Mr. Kotzwinkle!" Alondra's voice cut like a knife. "If you attempt to leave I will alert Security and you won't get to the front door. By the time they drag you back here I will have a faxed court order sitting on my desk ordering you to comply and authorizing me to take whatever steps are necessary to see that you do."

Stunned, Alvin lowered himself back into the chair. "You—you can?"

Ms. Beard leaned back in her chair and sighed. Her face relaxed from its previous stern, prim expression as she replied, "Oh yes. I can and I will if I must. But really, I'd rather not."

The tall woman rose from her chair and came around to the front of her desk. She seated herself in the chair next to Alvin, an almost winsome smile on her face. "Mr. Kotz—may I call you Alvin? Oh, thank-you. Alvin, when you look in the mirror what do you see? Do you see a small business man struggling to make his way in a complex and overbearing world? I'll tell you what I see. I see a handsome young man in a very dapper three-piece suit who looks like someone well on the way to being a captain of industry or merchant prince. I see the kind of man that if I met him in a bar and he offered to buy me a drink, I'd certainly accept and spend some time finding out if he was a nice as he was attractive. But what the Agency sees is a renewable natural resource, a very important resource and one that it would be—sinful to let go to waste."

Alvin found himself staring at wide-mesh stockings that extended out the tops of a pair of burgundy riding boots and then disappeared into the darkness beneath the grey flannel skirt—a skirt that clung tantalizingly to the woman's thighs giving lie to its formality. He blinked a few times in confusion and before he could come up with a response she bent forward and gently laid her hand on his knee.

"Alvin, three percent of all live births in the U.S. have birth defects, that's almost one hundred twenty thousand children every year. The medical cost to deal with them is astronomical and the emotional burden is horrific. The guilt, the blame, the stress of caring for a disabled child—these are all a huge strain. Naturally most couples have their own children but for those who can't or hope for the very best offspring, the handful of men (and egg donor women) like you are incalculably valuable. And because we value you so highly, we don't want to abuse you. We'd much rather you cooperate gladly and the best way I know to do that is make it lots of fun for you. What do you say?"

"Make it fun?"

"Oh my, yes!" She grinned broadly and rose from her chair. "Stand up, Alvin. And let me hang up your coat. You know, there is something terribly masculine and imposing about a man in a three-piece suit and when he takes off his coat and stands in his vest and trousers? It's just—well, delicious is the best word I can come up with."

Alondra tucked her hand into the crook of Alvin's elbow and guided him out the office door and farther down the hall he'd come in from. Several doors down she opened one and then closed it behind them and pushed a button that locked them in.

The room was oddly decorated to be both romantic and clinical. The walls were paneled and plants in jardinières were stationed around. Sandalwood scented the air and soft, seductive music played. On the other hand, the central piece of furniture was a narrow examination couch. There was a microscope and some medical looking equipment on a counter on one wall but there was an ornate coat rack on the other. What kind of place is this?

Alondra smiled at him, reached up and undid the hair bun letting an auburn wave fall down to below her shoulder blades. Then she unfastened her skirt, letting it drop to the floor while unbuttoning the white, high-necked blouse. She hung it on the rack and retrieved her skirt. Alvin beheld an astonishing vision. Still wearing her knee high riding boots, Ms. Beard was now clad in an wide-mesh catsuit that was open at the crotch and revealed her entire, alabaster, curvaceous body. She cocked her head to one side, and prowled up to Alvin and started unbuttoning his vest. "You do have to be naked, you know," she purred.

Soon nude and semi-erect, Kotzwinkle was gently pressed onto the exam bench and made to lay back. Alondra ran her tongue around her lips and began to stroke the underside of his cock, stiffening him up. "Now this isn't like regular sex, Alvin dear. Whatever else goes on, the important part is that your ejaculate ends up in that little refrigerator on the counter. But I do intend to make this as much fun as possible. So, spread your legs and bend your knees. A little wider. Good!"

Dumbfounded, Alvin nodded. He'd been hoping for some attention from an attractive woman and how he seemed to be getting it in spades. She kissed him on the cheek and fastened his wrists to the side of the table before taking his hard cock in her mouth and starting to suck and stroke. Alvin moaned. Alondra obviously had a lot of skill as she tickled his frenulum with her tongue tip, rubbed her face along the length of his shaft and breathed warm air on the helmet before returning to licking and sucking.

When she decided he'd had enough, Alondra opened a drawer on the counter and took out a purple Nitrile glove and snapped it over her right hand. Covering two fingers with slippery lubricant she winked at him. "Most men have all sorts of anxieties over a prostate exam. That's because most doctors are male and aren't trying to get the patient off. But I think you'll find it's different my way."

With her free hand still stroking and stimulating his manhood, Ms. Beard gently spread Alvin's buttocks and after a few moments of massage, inserted them up his anus. Reaching in with practiced ease, she began to stroke the walnut sized gland. His eyes popped open. "Oh, that—that feels good!"

The woman chuckled. "Like that, do you? It takes a man very confident in his masculinity to let a woman play with that part of him. Shall I expand your horizons?"

Moaning with pleasure, Alvin nodded. He could no more refuse her now than fly but did get a bit anxious when she reached into a drawer on the table and pulled out a large, blue silicone ShareTM dildo. She licked the bulbous end and then hummed in delight as she pushed into her sex. Now equipped with an aggressively erect phallus of her own she straddled the bench, placed its tip at the man's brown star and took him in a swift thrust.

Alvin gasped. Alondra leaned forward and murmured; "Now we're going to have lots of fun, honey. While I fuck your ass, I get off. After that, I make you cum."

The hand gripping his cock slowed its stroke but the shaft sliding in and out his ass sent electric discharges of delight through his body. It would never have occurred to him that reversing roles with a woman could feel so good, so erotically exciting. However, he now knew that should any date suggest pegging to him in the future she would find him an eager recipient.

Alondra let go of Alvin, put her hands on his thighs for support and really put her back into it, panting as she did. Alvin's moans turned to cries, Alondra's panting to whimpers and finally a scream. When she had recovered, she looked down, pleased to see her 'patient' still stiff and crying for release. With a grin she retrieved a cupped vaccu-tainer and slipped it over the head of his cock and then bent down and sucked hard on the underside of his phallus. With a yell the man erupted to be sucked dry by the device and collapsed in exhaustion.

Ms. Beard took the vaccu-tainer over to the microscope, squirted a droplet onto a slide and peered into the eyepiece. "Ah," she exclaimed, "normal motility. Perfect" and dropped the cylinder into the cooler. Setting aside the ShareTM , she released Alvin then, to his considerable surprise, climbed up and sat on his lap.

She lay down on his chest and stroked his face with soft hands. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it? In fact, I'll bet you thought it was lots of fun."

"Mm-hmm" came the drowsy answer.

"So, that means we can expect you back here at nine sharp on Friday, doesn't it?"


"Good. There are lots of couples who need your help, Alvin. You and those few men like you are going to sire lots and lots of children. Of course, you won't know any of them but the country will be a happier, more tranquil place for it. You can be proud, Mr. Kotzwinkle, very proud, indeed."



"About Friday. Would you like to have dinner with me? And maybe go to a movie?"

"Why Alvin, I'm so flattered. Of course I'll have dinner with you—but not a movie afterwards. It's too cold outside. You come over to my place and spend the night where it's warm. And don't bring any condoms. Married or not, with DNA like yours if I get pregnant I'm having that kid!"

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