Sex-Based Dystopia 00: Intro

Note to the reader: This is dystopian erotica. Is that a thing? No. Did I make it a thing? Maybe.

I just wanted to put a little bit of a disclaimer here. This is not a work of satire, this is not a political, sexual, or social statement per se. There may be a couple of aspects of that, but it's really just a character study on a girl who really does feel that way about the world, and realizes that it ended up with kind of a mess.

I would like to start by saying that there is a theme that the normalization of sexual activity, the normalization of LGBT+ relationships, the prominence of sex workers, et al. are being used as a hidden agenda for the purposes of world domination. This is definitely not a thing. Human rights are important, and these are all simple applications of basic human rights.

However money is not inherently bad, while an individual deciding where everyone's wealth goes and hoarding it for themselves is bad. I made a story where, in that same way, treating people with dignity and acknowledging that people fuck and like it, and fuck in many different ways is not inherently bad, creating a society where it is the sole driving force behind every social encounter for the definite purpose of world domination is probably not cool.

Anyway, weird flex for someone writing erotica, right? Sorry, dystopian erotica.

So, again, not calling out weird hidden agendas. Just trying to write a story I thought was cool and sexy.

Enjoy.

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But seriously, I don't need y'all @ing me on Twitter or nothing. I ain't got that kind of time.

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Taking over the world was easier than others had suspected, or at the very least it was simpler.

It was my assertion that complete dominance in any single study, whether in the sciences or the humanities, would lead to a monolith of power, and that monolith of power would effectively own the planet. Humanity has attempted this at a number of different times, with varying degrees of success.

Now normally it might bore you to hear about the different times and what I thought about them. But jokes on you: I rule the world now, so I don't give a fuck what you think.

That's right. I'm a strong independent woman, I don't need no man, and I definitely don't want the opinion of someone who doesn't have any experience in conquering the world. That's the last thing I need right now. After all, how could someone whose never thought about conquering everything, and I mean really thought about it, have any valid opinions on how to get the hell out of it?

So guess what? You get to hear about my little problem, then you get to hear about how I decided to try and fix it. So tap out now if you'd like, but you should be aware that my tale involves more than a little bit of sex. Do with that information what you will.

Anyways. Before I get to all that, I think it's important for you to get some background in how I decided to conquer the world, then how I proceeded to do so.

Humanity has been nearly conquered a number of different times, and usually occurred because a subject was so well understood by an individual or small group of individuals that the entire world was forced to center around that one thing.

Now I'm not talking about "having a lot of power." I'm talking about world domination. In the 1960s, we got close. If you think about the opposite of world domination as "every individual in the world is equally as important as every other, and nobody controls anybody else without his or her consent," then the fact that we were down to two main superpowers means we were pretty damn close. A few hundred people, namely the political powers of Russia and the US, controlled the entire planet. Then the leaders changed and things calmed down.

Eighteenth and nineteenth century Britain had thoroughly understood the subjects of sea travel, trade, and colonization, or at least the East India Company did. People talk about the dominance of the British Empire, but you have to remember that at one point the East India Company's private army was twice the size of the British Royal Army. They had the money, so they had the power. Then new blood came in to the company, they wanted to make a name for themselves, got their hands a bit too dirty and fell.

The global economy of the twenty-first century got pretty close too. Closest ever, if you ask me. The subject of money and economics was not only completely understood by a small group of people, those same people were the ones that controlled it! What a racket, right? Problem was, the super-rich of the early twentieth century that got these later people started understood that it was a balance, and that you did actually have to take care of the poor. Insulting that they thought they could do better? Sure. But the real problem was that later, the people didn't take care of the poor, so they ended up with a crashed economy, followed by slit throats.

I decided that you could do this with any subject. Understand art well enough, aesthetics, then people come to you for what is beautiful and proper. Understand science well enough, you create a technology that changes the world. Understand social systems well enough, you manipulate your way to the top.

Alexander the Great's major subject was that of war. He was such a thoroughly competent general that after winning a few battles, it was simply made clear that he...well, he couldn't be stopped. In the end, people just handed their cities over to him! I like to say that when I was a preteen girl reading Twelve Against the Gods by William Ryall, Alexander the Great (who is the first featured of the twelve) was my first crush. After all, he actually did it. There wasn't an area he encountered that he didn't conquer. If he had cars, he would have conquered all of Africa. If he had boats, he would have gotten Europe and Asia too. If he had planes, he would have had the world. But you know what happened? Died of a fever in his thirties. Damn shame, right?

If you're smart, and especially if you're me, you pick up a pattern: someone had the knowledge, that someone died, someone else let it all go to hell in a handbasket.

Now bringing up Twelve Against the Gods, it should be noted that the second person in that book was none other than Giacomo Casanova. If you don't know about Casanova, this man did it all: he spoke languages, he escaped prison, he was embroiled with all of the major powers of the world, and — what you might know the name for — that dude fucked. Like, he lost his virginity in a threesome with a pair of sisters.

Casanova arguably had as much power as Alexander, except he used it to get his dick wet. And while I didn't love him like I loved Alexander, I had mad respect for the guy. His subject that he understood was sex, and it got him a lot of power. However, he only used that power to get more sex. Weird cycle, right? But it did show me something interesting: people did wild things for sex.

Then, going back to that twenty-first century economic stranglehold, I realized that their success wasn't actually in the thoroughness of their mastery. Actually, they were really just good at amassing wealth, not actual economics. Kind of sad, really. But what they were very good at was making the system revolve entirely on the one thing they had lots of.

When I was sixteen, I decided that I was going to dedicate my life to ruling the world. I had spent years thinking about it, and I decided I was just going to get it done. I needed to do a couple of things first:

1) Become immortal

2) Become really good at a subject

3) Create a social system that I could manipulate

Now my first thought was to just get into biology, figure out the whole immortality thing, then use that as my subject. That'd work, right? But then everyone would be immortal. I needed people dying to keep my competitive edge. I did, however, dedicate a number of years into research of the human body. Like, eighty.

But! I figured it out! I even reversed the aging process to the point that at ninety-seven years old, I had perky D-cups, a nice butt and not a wrinkle in sight. In fact, I would have passed for maybe twenty-five. I still got carded when I went to buy drinks.

Didn't share the secret. Family and friends grew old and died, blah blah blah. Was sad the first couple of times, but once everyone was dead it wasn't that bad. Besides, I was busy.

Carrying on.

The subject I understood was how people had almost conquered the world. That was what I really knew. Even studying biology, I was always watching, studying, figuring things out. The industry that I ended up conquering using this knowledge was sex. Now I may have been boring you with details up to this point, but a conqueror never kisses and tells, and so I won't give you the entire secret of the pie. Not because I want to keep ruling the world, mind you, but just that I don't exactly want to ruin all of my hard work just for someone to put it all back.

Suffice it to say that many comedians have remarked that everyone eats, everyone poops, and everyone fucks. However, you could only make a living out of cooking or porn, and it was only ever polite to talk about the cooking.

I normalized it. Used my understanding of social systems and how people work to take the taboos off sex. Cool, right?

Well, what was less cool was the fact that I then used a small fortune that I had amassed over that couple hundred years to make porn stars the best paid athletes in the world. Sex became competitive, not just financially but as a sport. Hell, as an art form.

What happened when American football was huge? Pro leagues made money, then colleges made programs to groom people for those professional leagues.

What about Esports? Industry starts making money, colleges open up teams to compete and try to get on that level.

When competitive fucking became a thing, sponsors poured in money. Then colleges started recruiting hot, slutty girls and staging their own competitions. People dreamed about getting paid millions of dollars to fuck, and so they worked on it. Cunnilungus 101 became a college course. "Anal Sex, Dos and Don'ts" was the most popular how-to book of 2106. And, of course, everybody fucked.

But my company controlled it all. We had the money, so we had the ability to market it how we wanted. We decided what was sexy, we decided what people should try, how they should look...everything.

Of course, the entire time I was trading weapons, hiring private armies, initiating hostile takeovers, buying up natural resources. You know. Classic supervillain stuff. Not all evil, though. I poured money into renewables, helped get healthcare fixed up. Stuff like that. No use ruling a dead world, right?

I was quickly the richest woman in America, then the world. Then I was the richest person in America, then the world. Nice, right?

Once I had all the resources, it was time to begin social engineering.

By the way, I managed to pull this off without anyone actually realizing that I wasn't actually aging. It didn't take long. People really like sex. Once it was normalized, it really wasn't hard to leverage that into power. The corrupt, wealthy bankers of yesteryear? Liked getting their dicks sucked. The shady politicians? Same. Men were easy, and women weren't typically that tough either. Everyone loved getting laid, and when we made it part of the social contract for men to know how to get women off, they liked it a lot better.

The super-conservative were still a problem, especially very conservative women. I did a lot of research on this one, as conservative men were pretty easy to fuel by testosterone. Even those who publicly opposed me still used my services, which was easy enough to leak and discredit them.

But not conservative women, no. There was certainly the occasional woman who would decry me publicly and then go to one of my "anonymous" brothels and get fucked by two or three guys. But there were also women who just really felt that way. They really were not fans of the rampant promiscuity.

First instinct was to just push it as a norm on the society (easy when your quarterly marketing budget is the GDP of most developed nations) and wait a generation or two to burn out their sensibilities as "old-fashioned." But that involved a lot of logistics, and I really didn't want people to figure out I wasn't aging before I had my stranglehold on society. That could cause problems, you know?

That was when some interesting research came across my table. I mean, it wasn't new news. Actually I think I had read an article in a pop science magazine in like, the late twentieth century. Maybe early twenty-first. But, basically, there was a bit of an exploit in male/female sex drives. Specifically, while men were only aroused by things that they actually liked (i.e. a straight guy's pleasure centers go off when they see naked women, a gay guy when they see naked men, and so on), women's pleasure centers went off when they saw anything fucking. Men, women, ducks...

Which meant that, statistically speaking, lesbian sex was the most agreeable sex on the planet.

Again, this wasn't a secret, really. We knew more women watched lesbian porn than men watched gay porn, though there were a roughly equivalent number of men and women who identified as gay or bi, which meant straight girls watched lesbian porn more than straight men watched gay porn.

We had always sort of attributed this to the more classically aesthetic image that women presented. Women had been selected for their beauty for thousands of years. Men's selection wasn't so physical in nature, mostly because they were in charge of the political and economic systems. Women stayed in the gene pool if they were pretty. Men stayed in the gene pool for myriad other reasons, attraction not always being the factor.

But I had never thought about it in terms of sheer biology. Not really. And I had certainly not, until that point, realized that it was the key to bringing social progress to a complete standstill by controlling everyone's desires.

I spent billions normalizing lesbian relationships. It was absolutely the most difficult marketing campaign of my entire reign. Do you know how much religious guilt was ingrained into people about girls licking other girls' pussies?

Actually, now that I think about it, maybe it was to stop freaky little fucks like me from taking over the world. Go figure.

It took time, but I basically just copied capitalist America's early system of creating a position where people did potentially demeaning work for next to no pay with the hopes of getting a good job in the future: internships.

Since the sex industry had become the perfect blend of cultural significance I had intended — equal parts athletic competition, art form, and cold business — it wasn't hard to hire women at a relatively low salary with the idea that they could hone their craft for better jobs the sex industry. They were hired at all of my administrative facilities as personal assistants that were their for the gratification of my employees. They saw it as good experience that could gain them lucrative employment with a nice brothel or even a porn studio. Some of the girls did it as corporate espionage, of course. Easy to get around a bit when you're a pretty girl with access to every office in the building.

And that was the trick, by the way: I only hired women.

The marketing angle was that the women I hired were the best equipped to please, and that my employees shouldn't think of it as sex like they think of love. They should think of it as a warm tongue and a nice reward for working hard.

Sure, there was the counterargument that it shouldn't matter if that warm tongue was a guy or a girl...but that was the beauty of my plan! Statistically speaking, straight women were not particularly likely to object as thoroughly to the arrangement, especially aided by my aforementioned very expensive marketing campaign. Since they were turned on pretty easily in general, most just went along with it, as did the guys. Those men who preferred other men or those women who chose to abstain were free to do so, and could get their rocks off elsewhere. The use of the girls wasn't required. But it was free.

Think about it: you're a straight girl who works in my accounts division. You have a nice husband, and just like everyone in my society you like getting off just as much as the next gal. But your husband has been out of town for three weeks, you've been pulling extra hours at the office, and your vibrator just won't do it. You want to get laid.

So you go into work, start up the computer, but your pussy's burning. You take deep breaths, try to keep it together. But you work in the office that is the largest single source of sex work on the planet. You run accounts, but you know that those accounts represent sex toys that other girls put into their dripping cunts. Vibrating rings hung around men's stiff cocks. Administrative fees for setting up orgies where people lost every inhibition, a mass of hands, tongues, and anonymity.

Needless to say, you wouldn't get less hot and bothered working for me.

So you have a few options. The first would be to wait for your husband to get back. Not really an option so much as a statement of something that would work if it were your only option, or if you weren't living in my world.

The next option would be to wait until after work and head to a brothel, hire a nice man to come to a private room and lick your pussy until you came all over his handsome face. Husband would be fine with this, because I managed to socially engineer out monogamy like, twenty years ago. It wasn't too hard a step to get everyone to admit that they watched porn, and it wasn't much harder to get everyone to admit that fucking other people wasn't an unusual impulse, and didn't have to be tied with romantic love.

God, I'm smart.

Anyway, you could hire help, sure. But there are a couple of problems with this. First, you're already putting in extra hours. You don't really have time to head to the brothel. You get home, eat dinner, watch some TV, and rub one out like everyone else. Even though the brothel is one the way home, you need to change out of your work clothes, shower, shave...you know. It's still a whole thing.

Remember in my world that brothels are classy affairs. It's like a restaurant. While it's technically true that you could show up unwashed and unshaven to some dining establishments, it was frowned upon and violated the social contract. You were clean, you were polite, and you were courteous to the waitstaff. If you weren't, you were a social pariah. It was the exact same with a brothel.

Almost everyone had either spent some time in college working at a local brothel or strip joint, or was closely related to someone who had. It was the new waitress. The new barista. Hell, the new call-center job. As such, you made sure to treat them like you wanted to be treated. Nobody wanted to fuck someone who was smelly, unshaven, unkempt. So you made sure to keep it classy.

While there were certainly establishments where being filthy wouldn't be out of place — I couldn't fix everything, okay? — they weren't the kinds of places you would go if you were a respectable middle-class citizen. They were like fast food joints in really bad neighborhoods. And needless to say, they aren't an option for you, an accountant at my company.

So you can't wait for your husband. You could maybe shell out a little extra time and money and head to a brothel.