Life on Mars

Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of completely fictional mind control, rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.

*****

Consent is important. All characters in this story consented; I checked.

Another day dawned on the cold, hard, unforgiving red planet. Almost everyone here was second or third generation Marser, now ("Martian" seemed too twee and didn't catch on). Anyone who had been on Earth was finding it harder and harder to recall detail with any degree of accuracy, and there were few who could contradict them anyway. Humans fought hard to survive on Mars. Between the higher levels of radiation from the paper-thin atmosphere, and the 600-odd days in a Martian year, most 20-year-olds looked in their sixties (although really they were forty).

Unusually for human colonisers there had been rather little bloodshed, and while the first people to land on the red planet were nicknamed "the founding fathers", such was order and progress, that the team had in fact been a balance of genders, and with strict orders to be civilised.

In the decades leading up to the climate disaster on Earth there had been considerable efforts to demystify the Red Planet. Ironically, the millions of tons of carbon used in firing off rockets exacerbated the problem. It became a leap of faith: stop taking steps to colonise Mars and concentrate on Earth, or redouble efforts to repopulate Mars at the obvious expense of Earth. In the end the money talked. There was more money to be made in space exploration than there was in staying put. Humans had been living comfortably in human made habitats on Mars since. Messages still came from Earth from time to time, but the transport ceased decades past. Down on Earth it was every person for themselves, while in the various habitats on Mars, there were some very strict, and very different social orders.

Those used to urban living adapted the quickest, while those used to living in rural areas with streams and trees and sheep, they took longer to acclimatise. And while the Martian day lasted little more than a half hour longer than that of Earth, the year was almost twice as long on Mars, and that made for some very long, depressing winters. On paper, Mars was quite similar to earth, but in reality, the leap was too far. Humans had made Mars safe and habitable, even enjoyable, but biologically, humans had failed to adapt at the required pace to keep humankind alive.

As the gender gap finally closed towards the end of human's time on earth, they brought the balance of power to Mars with them. All genders were educated equally, and as such, the natural birth rate fell, as it had in countries on Earth. This wasn't the only reason, but it was one. And since science had partially caused this problem, science was tasked to find a solution.

~#~#~

Colleen was reading in her luxurious room, when her watch chimed with a message. She glanced down at it, noticed that the flashing light was red, and immediately her pulse quickened. Red notifications were important. The message, which was sent automatically when it registered certain conditions in Colleen's body, read: "Ovulation; please proceed immediately to Court". This was a message she'd been expecting, but it was no less potent for that. Adrenaline sped her up and out of her room, and along the corridor into the small suite of rooms laid out in sequence to prepare her for her Court debut.

Colleen was a Vessel. Vessels were women of childbearing age, chosen from the Mars population primarily for their family's fertility and production of healthy babies, but also their genetic resistance to skin cancers, which was a useful trait on the sun-battered planet. No other traits were screened for. There was no ideal eye colour, nor preferred hair... this was about survival.

At 173cm, Colleen was short for a Marser. She had long strawberry-blond hair, hanging in dense curls, and her heavily freckled face was round, and cute, and her green-grey eyes shone with a constant threat of mischief. Her training had been in therapeutic sciences, and although forced to take a break in her educational progression, she appreciated the importance, and value, of taking part in the programme. That didn't make her any less nervous as she closed the door behind her in the first room of the suite, and slipped out of her clothes, padding barefoot into the adjoining bathroom.

~#~#~

In the small room off the main office module, where all the day to day running of the auxiliary planet took place was a team of three, under the heading Human Resources. All were busy at screens, organising rotas and staffing rosters.

One of the Human Resources team received an alert on their screen, which they clicked to enlarge. It read "Eye-watch of COLLEEN: Citz#4388289 Alert: Ovulation DaT: 14:61"

With a world-weary sigh, they cross-referenced the citizen information with that on the system (and indeed she was ovulating as predicted) and then checked the list of Suitors. There were twenty on the list, two of them on an amber list, having already successfully fathered two children, the rest fine. They were all sent the following message, pinging immediately on their watches:

"Please adjourn immediately to the Depository".

~#~#~

Amiri, too, was reading in his quarters when his wristwatch alerted him to a message. The red light of the officials. His room was not the plush and decadent room of the Vessels, but as an equal part of the procreation programme, they were considerably better than the dormitories that the rest of this peers occupied.

He'd worked hard all his life, achieving academic success alongside an obvious physical prowess, but this particular reward was icing and cherry on cake. Amiri was a Suitor. As part of the procreation programme, Suitors were men selected for their desirable genetic code, and as part of the process, a pool of Suitors were assigned to a Vessel (women with complimentary genetic traits), in order that enough viable sperm would be introduced into the Vessel's uterus, in a survival of the fittest race, clinically designed to hasten the evolution of humankind to have a chance of surviving on the harsh planet they now called home.

Twenty of the dormitory rooms emptied out into the corridor, which was filling with his co-Suitors as they made their way to the Depository. The block contained approximately 120 rooms, but for each event there were only twenty Suitors required, selected carefully by the algorithm to make sure they hadn't already fathered more than three children in the programme, and that they were not related to the Vessel. As they walked down the corridor to the Depository, colloquially known as "the wank bank", they chatted excitably, loud enough that other doors opened, so that the Suitors not selected today could cheer them on and jostle and tease the men as they headed quickly to the Depository. This was a time sensitive operation.

At the end of their dormitory corridor, through a set of double doors marked "Depository", were a set of rooms laid out like an old sports changing room, with bench seating and clothes hooks, cubicles and showers. Through an archway lay a narrow room containing two rows of ten small cubicles made of a moulded medical grade polymer (white) that was easy to hose down. Each cubicle was private from the next, except open at the rear. On the inside was a screen, to which was sent a high definition video link to a shower cubicle, although as the men entered the room the screens were dark. To the left were bog standard beech-effect bench changing rooms, and to the right, showers. The men all filed into the changing rooms on the left, the new guy following behind, nervous.

The men did not get any fancy contraption to help them ejaculate, even though synthetic vaginas had been readily available on earth. It simply wasn't deemed necessary, since the male body did not need to be convinced it was having sex in order to succeed in its part of conception. Tests had been conducted and the sperm sample from masturbating was exactly the same as the sample provided from artificial vaginas, except this way they didn't need to add lubrication, keeping the sample pure. The Human Resources department needed the sperm of multiple men (in this case, in the need for efficiency and a broad competitive pool, twenty men), and it was harvested and delivered within twenty minutes.

While they were undressing, a young woman in the uniform of a lab technician entered the changing room, and strolled between the men, reading names from a sheet, followed by their cubicle number. Receptacles marked with their citizen number were waiting in their assigned cubicle. Not new to this role, the technician only took her eyes from the sheet of paper to check that the faces matched those of the headshots on her clipboard. She'd been working this department too long to be excited by another dick. All of the suitors were naked now, in various stages of arousal. The ones who knew what was coming more excited than the new guy who, cheeks and chest flushed pink, covered his genitals with his hands.

The men took their assigned cubicles quickly, as the whole process was time sensitive and the camera feed on the screen would be live. When the men were all in, the technician signalled remotely to another that the next step could begin. The monitors in the cubicles lit up and on each screen was a shower cubicle. Nothing happened for a minute or two, then in walked the Vessel.

Amiri was already hard when the screen lit up, his young body coursing with hormones, eager to impregnate literally anyone, at any time. As the Suitors were not allowed to masturbate between sessions though, he didn't risk touching himself until he could watch the television. He had heard a little bragging, from time to time, of men (nay, heroes) that could orgasm twice in their short allotted time, but he didn't think his own body was capable of that, and wasn't prepared to try. One good orgasm watching a beautiful woman shower. It was worth the wait.

Even when the screen flickered on, and showed an empty shower cubicle, he waited. One of the other boys, probably one towards the end of his run (a veteran, they called them) yelled out "hold it, boys; hoooooold it!". Others laughed, and some of the new recruits giggled nervously. Everyone was going to be orgasming very shortly.

On the screen a young woman entered the frame. Her face was pixelated, but every inch of her body was visible. She hadn't a straight line on her. Each curve of her body flowed gracefully onto the next, from her round face, over her shoulders, down her full breasts and belly, and her firm, grabbable, spankable ass, to perfectly proportioned feet. She walked into the shower cubicle wearing an executive issue (fluffy) white dressing gown but barefoot. Once she'd rolled up her sleeves she reached in to turn on the shower. She let it run a few seconds before testing the temperature with outstretched fingers. Amiri, watching, rubbed his right hand down his belly, his fingers reaching his pubic hair and splaying either side of his erect penis. He was desperate to begin masturbating, but this wasn't his first time (nor would it be his last, as he had so far only gotten one Vessel pregnant). He would wait until she was naked, and then he would play and, after over a week since his last session, he would cum hard.

~#~#~

Colleen slipped out of the fluffiest robe ever, and hung it on the hook beside the shower. The cubicle was large, with multiple options of shower spray intensity and direction, and she opted for something powerful and hot from about shoulder height. Once she was satisfied the temperature was good she stepped into the shower. Colleen washed herself unselfconsciously, because she did not know that twenty men were, right then, watching her, and masturbating. She gathered some shower gel into her palms and generously soaped her body with her hands. Suds, extra bubbly in the ultra-pure Martian water, bubbled and billowed luxuriously, flowing down her body and pooling at her feet. She washed herself generously, taking her time, cleaning her underarms, her breasts and neck, then bending over to soap her feet and legs. She didn't rush, she took her time, attending to herself thoroughly, delaying the part that she knew was coming.

~#~#~

On screen the naked woman began to shower, and with her slow, deliberate movements across her soft body, she could not have been sexier if she had tried.

At first there were whoops and hollers, wolf whistles, joking and banter, but soon it got very quiet as, one by one, the men began to stroke their erect penises and focused on the naked woman on the screen, each man in a solitary race; stretch out their pleasure for as long as possible, but finishing before the woman disappeared from their screen.

For half a minute the room was quiet, but then the noises started. First it was a collective heavy breathing, like a choir taking an in-breath in tandem before an entry, then there was the repetitive wet slapping as fists gripping cocks slapped against thighs, and moans, quiet at first but building in intensity, started to slip from between the men's lips. Then they started to come.

~#~#~

Amiri's eyes were glued to the screen, even though he preferred to squeeze them shut when he came. This was not something he wanted to miss. Vial in his left hand, ready to collect his ejaculate, his right hand pumped his thick but short cock, desperate now to prolong the experience, holding off for as long as possible, not knowing when he'd be called up to donate again.

He watched, rapt, as the Vessel on the screen before him bent over to wash her lower legs. Her breasts formed beautiful teardrop shapes and they swayed hypnotically with the movement of her arms. Amiri didn't know if the Vessels knew they were being videoed or not, but this was all that he could have wanted to see. She shifted to wash her other leg, and her jerky movements made her breasts swing and slap together once, twice... and Amiri squeezed his eyes shut involuntarily as his cock erupted with semen, squirting several jets of cum against the side of the container he held in his hand. He could feel the hard plastic vial pressing into the tip of his cock as he tried to collect his ejaculate, half concentrating on gathering, half an eye on watching the woman wash herself as his orgasm subsided, desperately holding on to the lingering pleasure and trying to commit the sight to memory. He watched as the anonymous woman on screen finished washing herself, hearing the last few orgasms of his fellow Suitors, then silence as she finished her shower. As the men regained their breath, you could hear a pin drop.

~#~#~

More showers. Water was synthesised on Mars. It was in plentiful supply but lacked the depth of flavour of water that had filtered for hundreds of years through a landscape rich in minerals. Martian water was a by-product of energy production, and it came into being pure and hot, which was a technological advance that, had it been discovered in time, could have perhaps saved civilisation on Earth, or at least slowed its decline.

The twenty satisfied young men showered together in a long line, shower roses overhead, and pump action containers of shower gel on the familiar white polymer-resin wall. The room rapidly filled with steam and salacious gossip about the Vessel and others like her, loudly mingling with the hiss of showers.

"Who do you think that was today?" asked Arryl, letting the hot water splash over his head.

"Dunno, but she was well cute. I love it when we get a girl with plenty to look at", said Jann.

"What bit made you cum" he was asked.

"When she bent over to pick up the soap, I totally blew my load. Her cute little asshole is burned into my retina" he nearly squeaked. "Pity we're not allowed to wank between sessions" Jann lamented.

"Hah, what?! She bent over in, like, the first minute. You fucking pussy!"

"Ass-man cums when he sees ass", he retorted, "and I'm an ass-man".

"You're an ass hole" was the brayed reply.

"I loved it when she soaped up her tits", said another

"Tits! Oh my god they were sexy as hell. So big."

And the charming recollection continued as the room filled with steam.

"Who do you think we'll get next?"

"I want Fiona", said Alex lustily.

"Who's that", asked another.

"The one with the tattoo on her back, the one of the snake."

"How do you know her name?"

"I recognised the tattoo. My mate went with her in school and said. She was a dick to me when I asked her out, so I fucking loved wanking over her. But that was ages ago, so maybe she got done."

"Well, you kinda fucked her... kinda... in the end?" someone offered.

"Yeah! For that alone I fucking love this piece of shit lump of rock."

As they soaped and showered themselves, it became clear that one of the group was much less satisfied than the rest. In spite of the suds, and the steam, and the dim utilitarian light, it was obvious that Danti, a young black man with a shaved head and a well toned body, was aroused.

"Oh my fucking god, didn't you get off?" asked one of the young men, amazed and apparently genuinely impressed by what he saw.

Danti groaned, embarrassed and frustrated in equal measure. "I just got so much love to give" he joked, but his tone was self-deprecating.

"Here, let Jann help you. His hands least tired of all of us, he jizzed so quickly" joked Arryl.

"Maybe Jann's just had lots of practice wanking" joked a deep voice from somewhere in the steam.

"Fuck sake, I dunno what's wrong with me. I already did, and now I have to go another week?" Danti all but cried.

"Nah... not a week, mate" said one of the veterans. "We'll look after you." then, pointedly, "won't we boys".

Two of the older men, the ones well used to showering together, loomed out of the steam, each grabbing one of Danti's arms and held him back against the wall. His back arched away from the cold walls, but he was held firmly. He looked from one to the other, and back, and said "no! No, no don't! I'll be kicked off the programme" he wailed.

"You won't, don't worry!" the older guy crooned. "No cameras in here. We're just helping a buddy out. Come on", he said to Jann, "give him a hand."

Jann all but skipped forward, with a mixture of excitement and nerves. He darted a look into Danti's eyes briefly, interpreted the pleading look as consent, and took his outstretched cock in his hand. He stood close enough that the tip of Danti's cock rubbed against his belly. He held his cock in his right hand, and pressed his other palm into Danti's chest, to steady himself, then began to pump his cock. He held it low, so that it pointed straight out, and with an easy fluid movement started to masturbate. He was too nervous under the scrutiny of his peers to become physically aroused himself, but his heart raced with excitement as he wrapped his fingers around his co-Suitor's hard cock.

The rest of the young men stood in a semicircle watching, urging the two on. Jann watched Danti's eyes roll back in his head, watched his eyelids close. He kept up the steady rhythm that he was familiar with, that he knew worked for him. This was his first time holding another cock, though, and it would shame him greatly if he couldn't make Danti cum. After all, he could make himself cum in well under a minute, as the men around him well knew.

~#~#~

Danti felt panic rise in his chest. It was certainly not that he didn't want to be touched, to be physically manipulated into orgasming, but the fear of breaking THE rule of Suitorship: no ejaculating outside of duty. To be kicked off the programme would not only mean losing the relative comfort of the Suitor dormitory, and the semiregular voyeur's wet dream, it would mean possibly losing the only chance to father children on this god-forsaken planet. Even though fathering was more communal now, to become one was a need deeper than he could rationally explain. He wanted to be on this programme with every fibre of his being, and would do almost anything to avoid being kicked off.