Lydia's Run

One

I looked out over the city. My entire world and all of ever known.

I liked it up on the Central Tower, the tallest of the tall and the closest to the highest point of the geodesic dome enclosing us. A smooth metallic tower devoid of windows and openings. It was the only viewing point where one could look over all the gleaming spires and open spaces.

Hundreds of meters up, it was the only place to experience the flow of cool air over my body. Wind it'd been called in the barbaric times when people could live exposed to the atmosphere. At ground level, it didn't exist. The air was still. Sterile and lifeless

Of course, it wasn't natural wind. Not the kind caused by the sun heating the air and the rotation of the planet. This was an artificial wind. What I felt breezing over my exposed skin was the lungs of our great protective city breathing.

Outside of the opaque dome, unseen in millennia by human eyes, gigantic turbines the shape of acorns rotated in the real wind. They generated the power and ventilated the city with diverted air that cleaned and filtered before being drawn in to flow over my near-naked body as I stood lost in my thoughts.

I paid a hefty number of credits monthly to enjoy the air. Everyone did. It wasn't possible to. Unless you wanted to stop breathing.

"You're quiet this evening."

My friend Amelie broke the silence, disturbing my thoughts so that the disappointment returned.

"I was refused a license today." I said with self-evident sadness.

Amelie was my Second. My pleasure partner. In reality, she was my only partner. Protector had denied me the chance of a First.

"Oh, Lydia. I'm so sorry.

You can appeal it."

I shrugged.

"Is there any point? I've never heard of anyone winning an appeal."

Amelie didn't answer. She already knew the pain of not being granted a license. It was a life of abstinence. Of never breeding. Never experiencing the full joy of primitive sex, or giving birth. We were told that there was no shame in having genes considered unsuitable to go forward into the future. But that wasn't really true. Deep down inside I did feel shame. And I was sure the same was true of the many hundreds of others who were refused the chance of a First. We were rejects. Flaws in the great plan or whatever Protector had in mind.

"I wish..."

Amelie cut me off sharply.

"We should go. It's nearly our work period."

Every word might be heard and analyzed for dissent. Drones hovered all over the city, listening and watching. Almost always one would appear while we were here. Almost as if our presence on the Central Tower wasn't approved of. Few people came here. I didn't know why that was, but sometimes it felt as though it was an unwritten taboo.

Amelie knew as well as I did how quickly the drones could appear and wasn't prepared to let me say something that would lose my credits. Credits were life. We both scored an A rating so our monthly earnings were good. To drop down even to a B could make life difficult, and it was near impossible to recover a score once it was lost. The Protector didn't always protect. Not if you weren't considered worthy.

I took one last look at the city below. A gleaming metropolis that cocooned its thousands of residents, safe from the ravages of an overheated and polluted world. It appeared clean, ordered, and perfect. It kind of was. But it also came with restrictions.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Okay.

I've done with feeling sorry for myself. Lots don't get to breed. I was just... expecting too much."

I turned to follow her back to the elevator platform.

My work wasn't the most exciting thing. Like everyone else, it'd been allocated to me early on. Protector had assessed my intelligence, aptitude, and physical attributes along with the projected needs of society and deemed dancing to be my forte in life. I'm not sure I agreed, but like my refused license to breed, I had only the option of accepting it.

Amelie had the same role. Friends since childhood and lucky enough to follow the same path as Matures.

We were street performers. Entertainers alongside Mime artists, singers, and illusionists. Protector guided our work and told us where and when to perform. Today it was an open space with orchestral music. It was sensual but not sexual, despite our nakedness. Being naked was normal. No one wore clothing in the city.

Aside from two universally required items, and for a few, perhaps some flamboyant jewelry, clothing was unknown. Everyone was naked in the city. Why wouldn't we be? There was no need to protect our bodies. The temperature was a constant near tropical and there was no excessive ultraviolet to damage skin cells.

Covering bodies was something we laughed at in schooling. The actions of our primitive ancestors who inexplicably felt shame in being naked and needed body coverings to defend against weather and their own damage to the environment. Acid rain, radiation, corrosive chemicals. Things that eventually doomed their civilization.

We were in the Grand Meeting Place today. A plaza of tables and decorative statues. A hub for citizens to meet and socialize while the seven of us performed on a raised platform near the center. A dance using the space and our bodies to express the emotions hidden in the music. We arrived only just in time, gaining a look of admonishment from one of the other performers.

I took up position, shaking my hands and feet to loosen muscles and ready myself. Clearing my mind as the music struck up. I danced. A performance so practiced and repetitive that it came naturally without thought. A background artwork for citizens who mostly didn't pay us attention.

I saw them as I moved. Hundreds of people all looking much the same. A population of identikit humans. All similar in size and build. Boyish figures with shortish hairstyles. Mere reflections of my own appearance.

Only our Chasity garments and Chokers truly differentiated us. Mine were decorative and colorful. More than most. It'd been designed that way before the Maturing Ceremony. All part of my life plan, it'd been selected for my preordained career as a dancer.

Anyone seeing me in the city could tell my purpose at a glance, much as I could tell the same about others. Entertainers like me had ornate garments. Administrators, very dour, plain ones. Enforcers, metallic blue that sparkled in the light. Other than that they were much the same.

Of course, the true purpose of the Chastity garment was to prevent unauthorized breeding. For those born Cis-XY a small pouch that held their penises, permanently restricted to a flaccid state with only the crown protruding for the practicalities of urination.

I'd seen pictures. Old, unapproved ones in paper magazines. I knew what they were supposed to be. It was also where I'd learned the word cock. I loved that word. It excited me just thinking about it. As did the pictures of erect cocks. Hard things perfectly designed by nature to fit into my... another lovely word I'd taken up, pussy. Words I didn't use openly. Language was important. It was a window into thoughts. The drones and the Enforcers monitored all and judged by what they heard as much as by what they saw. No, those were words to be whispered in private with Amelie and no one else.

My garment was for a Cis-XX born. What was once called a girl. It differed in that instead of a pouch it was concave, extending up into my vagina. It ensured nothing could enter it or excite my little button. Believe me, I'd tried. A tiny tunnel allowed my pee to exit, but nothing could enter. Not even a finger.

The materials they were made from were exotic graphene. I wasn't a technical person and had no idea what that was. Only that they were soft and subtle to the touch, not restricting to movement or chafing. But firm enough to protect the tender, sensitive flesh it hid away, preventing it from being overexcited by friction or pressure.

The skin breathed through the material and they cleaned as easily as flesh in the shower. They were also antibacterial and prevented any unwanted smells or infections. Hygienic beyond belief.

To my frustration and no doubt to many others, they did their primary task perfectly. They prevented anyone without a license from partaking in mutual pleasure with another person which might result in unauthorized breeding.

Even with my stated number two preference, it was awkward. It'd taken many attempts with Amelie to figure out how to defeat the infuriating things and achieve that primal pleasure of orgasm. To our biology schoolers, orgasm had been only a strange byproduct of procreation. A necessary part of breeding. At least that's how they explained it. Something not to get too excited about, no matter how exciting it felt.

And exciting was exactly what it was. It was something neither I nor Amelie had ever truly achieved. Just teetering on the edge but never quite making it. Or perhaps a tremor, a hint of what true orgasm promised. Frustration was what the Chastity garments achieved.

Again those secret magazines Amelie had shown me ages ago held other words in their archaic print.

Old text was hard to understand sometimes. But we'd established cumming or to cum was the act of orgasm. It was also used to describe the fluids that leaked so readily from my pussy during the act. And the seed of a Cis-XY born. Something else I'd never seen, though I'd been told XY's could sometimes manage it even while restricted. It was just that it had nowhere to go unless approval to breed had been granted.

And then there was fuck and fucking. They were used for the actions necessary to reach the state of cumming.

So many words. Obscene to our Protectors and their Enforcers. So arousing to us, with the promise of so much fulfillment. Definitely exciting. But ultimately, only experiences we could partially achieve. Enough to feel pleasure. Little enough to be left wanting.

It was just a shame that with my request for a breeding licence refused I'd probably never experience those pleasures properly. No. I was destined to be one of those other words I'd learned from the forbidden pictures, a virgin. Everyone with a Chastity Garment was. Not how it was intended by nature.

After the performance, I went back to my rooms. Amelie stopped off at hers but promised to come over later. I showered and went to my sleeping mat. A simple rectangle of padded fabric with a slightly raised end to rest my head on.

As with most nights, my pussy was crying for attention as I lay down. I glanced at the time. Only two periods into the night phase. It would be at least another full period before Amelie joined me.

I rolled onto my stomach and pushed my hand between my legs in a desperate attempt to ease the ache that tormented me.

"Hurry up Amelie." I muttered to myself, and the ever-watchful Protector.

Everything I did was watched for my good. Even self-pleasure.

"Do you want to fuck?" I asked hopefully.

My attempts at relieving the blissful agony between my thighs for myself had come to nothing. :!

"Shush." Amelie snapped.

I knew she was right. I shouldn't use such words where we were monitored.

"Sorry. Do you want to mutually pleasure?" I asked instead.

It didn't have the same illicit ring to it as fuck. It was sanitized, an approved expression for what we were going to do.

Her anger at me for being so indiscreet passed and she smiled.

"Yes."

It was strange how a body that I saw all day every day without a thought could suddenly take on a new persona and become arousing. Especially in the half-light of the night phase.

What was special about breasts? Nothing. They were just small protrusions that every Cis-XX born, and some Cis-XYs that had chosen XX designation in maturity sported. But as Amelie knelt next to me they became something else, also with an illicit name. Tits. A source of fun to be caressed and kissed.

I raised myself and let her scissor my thigh.

"Mmmm"

She pressed herself into me as I put my head to the side and suckled her nipple until it was swollen and protruding.

"Mmm. That's nice." Amelie groaned.

She stroked my hair. Her other hand came down to my aching tit. It cupped the little mound and fingers kneaded it. A tingle of excitement filled my body and reached down to my safely, but frustratingly, hidden button.

We kissed and held each other, pressing ourselves tightly together, our concealed pussies rubbing profusely against each other's thighs. Just enough sensation to feel good.

"Harder." I begged.

The garments enclosing our sex restricted the friction and shielded burning little buttons making it so hard to find satisfaction.

To me, it felt like a long hard climb toward a cliff's edge that I wanted to tumble over headlong.

"Uh. Uhhh."

An inviting drop into bliss waited at the top, only with an impenetrable safety barrier preventing me from leaping.

"Uh. So good."

I moaned with the rising enjoyment of our bodies gliding against one another. Her scent lifted from sweat and filled my nostrils with its sweet smell.

"Harder." Amelie begged.

I forced my groin against hers, scissoring our legs to get closer.

"Oh yes." She responded with a shuddering breath.

Her fingers squeezed my small mounds and I pulled on her nipple, wishing I could get my mouth to it again.

"Uhhh."

When it came it was pleasurable. A mild release from the torment. But where it should have felt like a gushing waterfall pouring into an abyss and crashing on rocks, it was like a trickling stream.

"Mmmm."

I fell back onto the sleeping mat as Amelie curled around me. Her soft thigh lay across mine and I stroked it gently.

"That was nice." She said still playfully circling a finger around my nipple.

It was. But I wanted it to be amazing. Mind-blowing. Nice was all the chastity garments ever allowed it to be.

"Do you ever wonder if Protector gets excited watching all the thousands of people mutually pleasuring?" She asked.

I laughed at the silly question.

Amelie saw pleasuring as those old magazines had presented it. Primitives who enjoyed true lust and yet hid it away as though something to be ashamed of. In our more enlightened age, we knew it wasn't something squalid. Everyone did it. Although not generally the done thing, it wasn't unknown for some to partake in pleasuring publicly. We'd look, but we didn't really approve, and most of us wouldn't do the same, but no one objected or thought it disgusting. Perhaps a little of the old shame still existed in all of us. Just not as strongly.

"Protector's just an artificial intelligence. It only watches to keep us safe." I replied with the approved answer.

"So you don't believe the stories of the all-seeing builder?"

I thought for a moment.

"No. Not really. It's an AI, part of the Infotainment Interface we use every day. You don't think of that as a wizened kindly old man do you."

"No. But there might be someone behind it, somewhere. A being who shapes our lives. Like the old gods the primitives worshipped."

"Perhaps. I don't know, but I can't say I'm a believer."

Protector could hear itself being discussed but there was nothing unapproved about what we were saying. The people were at liberty to believe as they wished so long as they didn't dissent from the common good.

"If there is, I don't think he's kindly."

I twisted my head down to look at her. That wasn't something she should say out loud.

"Why are you talking like this?"

"Sorry. I'm just annoyed that we've both been refused breeder licenses. It means we'll end our life periods without ever knowing full fulfillment."

I didn't let her see my sadness.

"We have each other. And the pleasure is... nice. It'll be enough."

Amelie didn't answer me. She no more accepted that than I did. What worried me was that she also listened to people who told her not to accept it. People who made false promises and told her there was another way.

I caressed her shoulder hoping I held more sway than they did. What these people told her was dangerous.

"We should sleep." I whispered softly.

Two

"Good morning Lydia. Good morning Amelia. Day period is a starting."

I opened my eyes at the sound of Protector waking us. Amelie was stirring next to me.

"I hope your mutual pleasuring before sleep period was to your satisfaction. I can confirm that you both exhibited heightened dopamine, endorphin and oxytocin levels, followed by undisturbed sleep patterns for the optimum time."

"Thank you." I muttered.

For the first time, I found myself feeling uncomfortable with the idea that my activities with Amelie were monitored with the same interest as eating and sleeping. Perhaps she had touched on something with her archaic ideas.

"Both your work schedules for today are clear."

The voice continued.

"Might I suggest partaking in the entertainment offered by your fellow citizens in one of the Citizen zones?

There is a Maturing Ceremony taking place from twelfth period in Protector Square should you wish to welcome your new..."

"Thank you, Protector." I cut in to silence it.

The ritual was always the same. Woken by Protector with suggestions on how to pass another day, or instructions on my work schedule.

"Life Spire has a meeting of the Church of the Protector in nineteenth period."

I was startled that the voice continued after I'd dismissed it. Amelie sat up quickly noticing the anomaly in Protector's behaviour.

"The Church of the Protector welcomes all who wish to bathe in the glory of the Protector."

"That's enough. Thank you." I snapped again as it started to unnerve me.

"When did Protector start doing that?" Amelie asked.

"I don't know. I've not noticed it before. And why is it suddenly suggesting we worship?"

Amelie looked uncomfortable and I think we both decided that we should be more careful with what we said.

"Can we go and eat?" I said.

We left the rooms, heading towards the open square where we'd danced the evening before. Today we were the guests eating and drinking. This morning the stage was occupied by a group of singers giving a harmonious performance. A group of children sat on the ground just in front of them, clearly mesmerized by the sound of magical voices.

I wondered how many of them dreamed of being singers when they matured. And would Protector steal their hopes by allocating them as administrators or Enforcers?

"Remember when we were just like them?" Amelie asked sipping her morning beverage.

"I wanted to be a schooler." I answered without turning my head.

"I wanted to guide the next generation. Protector decided I should be a dancer." I continued sadly.

"Just like Protector decided I shouldn't help make the next generation by breeding."

I drank my nourishment. It tasted bland. I wondered not for the first time what it was made from. In the old world, there'd been things called farms. Vast fields for growing food. The city had none of this. Just the tasteless fluids enhanced with vitamins and protein.

An Enforcer passed by. A Cis-XX born that'd chosen XY designation on maturity. He'd taken blockers to stop breasts forming but as with all cross-genders, his Chastity garment remained that for his birth sex.

The luminescent blue of the choker and chastity garment glowed so as not to be missed. An earpiece, again fitted permanently at the Maturing Ceremony gave the ability to focus in on nearby conversations. And of course, the attachment over his eye scanned everyone he looked at for the subtle signals of dissent. We stayed quiet until the Enforcer had moved on.

"My life could have been worse. I could have been one of those listening to everyone. Looking for reasons to take their credits away."

"We should go to the old place." Amelie announced.