Sex-Based Dystopia 00: Intro

But then your boss points out that, after your work day is done, you could ask a girl to come to your desk and eat you out for a while.

Not during work hours, of course. On your lunch break, maybe, but then you still need to figure out getting a meal or else the rest of the day will be rough. No, you're a good worker and you want to be at your best, so it'd be after work.

But it's crazy, right? You're not a lesbian. You miss your husband. You're just really horny. It'll just be great sex when he gets home...right?

Then you pass her in the hall after a meeting: a stunning brunette with olive skin and the prettiest smile you've ever seen. She shoots you a wink and a wave when she notices you staring and comes over. You try to study your shoes, realizing you had been caught staring, but she doesn't feel offended in the slightest. She tells you her name is Ariel, and that she's new here. You tell her your name, you smile and laugh at a bad joke she makes about the coffee. She seems nice. You then ask where she's working, hoping you can see your new friend.

Her answer surprises you: she's one of the new courtesan interns.

That's when the social contract — my beautiful social contract! — kicks in. After all, sex has been normalized. You're a progressive young woman. The last thing on your mind is shaming her. In fact,just the opposite! It's like meeting someone who's working towards becoming a movie star. It's endearing, it's herotic...it's something you almost wish you would have done!

You exchange a few more pleasantries and then go about your business. Nothing really happens for the rest of the day and you go home.

At home, you eat your dinner, you spend some time online, and inevitably wind up on one of my many porn sites. Little do you know that I have put lesbian porn on most of the featured pages of every major site. Not too much, mind you. The algorithms are still showing you your preferences, but they just add a little...splash.

Maybe you don't check it out that night. Maybe you check it out the next night, or half a week later, or even never. However, pretty soon you're at least thinking about it. Actually, you're thinking about her. Ariel, the pretty young whore hired by your company, whose only job is to help her co-workers cum.

You know how it goes when the fantasies are rolling. They don't have to make sense, they just have to be hot. One night, you're thinking about Ariel licking your sweet pussy under your desk, looking into your eyes as she attacks your clit.

You cum.

Fantasy over, you wonder where the hell that came from, go to sleep, and go back to work in the morning.

That's when you see Ariel on the way in. She smiles at you and waves, then comes over and says she's trying to fill her slot (no pun intended) for the evening and wonders if you might need her services.

You blush, say no thank you, and chat for a minute before starting to head to work.

Before you go, she tells you that she's going to keep the spot open today, just in case you change your mind.

You protest a little on her behalf. You don't want her to screw up her work day for you. You ask if she gets paid if she doesn't work that night, since you really want to make sure she's taken care of.

Now, real quick, there are a couple of things you should know: internships are traditionally unpaid or poorly paid. However, since these were internships for really high-paying jobs, I could afford to salary these girls. Not a ton, but enough to be enticing to work for me and let them choose their clients and hours. For the greater good, right?

The other thing was that they were specifically told to engage in as much lesbian sex as they could. If they had a male co-worker and a female co-worker both requesting attention, they prioritized the girl ten times out of ten.

So when you ask after her, Ariel bashes her eyelashes at you and says thank you for thinking of her, but that she'll be fine. She's well paid, she's happy, and she loves what she does. In fact, she's just hoping you'll come around, because she really likes you.

Maybe she does like you, maybe she doesn't. You know it's her job to be well-liked. But damn is she good at it.

Either way, she tells you to give her a call by five if you want to do something later.

There's no innuendo about it. Not in my society. Her words are clear as crystal: if you call her by five, she will eat you out until you come all over her pretty face.

How do you go back to work after that? You've already been dying for some human contact for almost a month. Then you have the best orgasm of the week thinking about her, then she literally comes up to you and practically asks to help you cum. It's her job. Hell, you're doing her a favor.

You're a pro, though, and you slog through the day's busy work. You try and keep your mind off of it, albeit with some success.

That is, until four-thirty rolls around. There are thirty minutes left before Ariel schedules someone else. And you're so horny.

You call Ariel up. She picks up the phone, sounding professional. When you introduce yourself she brightens up, asking how your day was and how she could help you.

When you don't know how to start, you can practically hear her warm smile over the phone. "Tell you what," she says, "Why don't you come down to my office when you get off and I'll help you...well, get off!"

She laughs, so you laugh. It's actually not a bad joke. And it's not a bad plan. She's just helping you get off, and you're just helping her earn her keep and practice a bit, right?

When you head down, you're flustered. You're nervous. Maybe you just call it off. But you knock on the door, she invites you in and she's looking great. Not overwhelmingly so, of course. She's not naked or dressed in designer clothes or something. That might scare you off, you know? Too much, too fast. No, nothing like that. She's dressed in a tank top and yoga pants, laying on a comfortable bed and smiling softly at you. Everything looks warm, and inviting, and comfortable.

The room itself isn't much. It's a bed, a couch, a chair, a little kitchen. There's a closet off to the side open just enough for you to see an assortment of sex toys that makes you blush, but not so open that you feel comfortable bringing it up or off-put enough to leave. Everything has been immaculately designed to keep your attention on the woman who's about to rock your world.

Ariel pats the bed next to her and you find yourself drawn to her, sitting down in your work clothes next to her and trying not to look too tense.

Of course, Ariel knows her business. She asks you about your day, gets you talking, gets you comfortable. Gets you undressed by steps. Tells you to kick your shoes off, tells you about this funny story she read. Mentions that it's a little warm in here to wear a blazer, which seems obvious so you do it. She asks you about your favorite movies, then gets up and makes coffee, telling you lay back on the bed, get comfortable. And that's when she has you. Comes back with the coffee, hands you a cup, lays on the bed next to you.

I wish I could say that there was some sort of crucial step or trick for the next part, but there isn't. It's delicate, sure, but it's closer to art than science. One of a million reasons that I hire people to do this and I was never very good at this sort of thing myself. The next thing she does is she just...goes for it. Ariel leans over and, very gently, presses her lips to yours.

Maybe you're shocked, maybe you're not. Maybe you like it immediately, maybe you're worried it's going too fast. But let's say you pull back and say it's too much. She puts a gentle finger to your lips, and asks politely if she may do her job.

I don't know the numbers, but almost nobody refuses at this point.

Ariel unbuttons your blouse, trails kisses down your chest, undoes your skirt, removes your panties, and proceeds to eat your pussy better than you've ever had it eaten before. Ever. Or your money back.

Maybe you feel awkward at first, maybe you don't. But after five minutes she's got two fingers in you and is sucking on your clit and driving you up a wall, and you cum. She doesn't stop either. Four, five, six times. Might not even stop until you just fall asleep on her bed. Because she's obviously cleared out her night for you. Big bonuses for turning girls, as is in accordance with my plan.

You go home satisfied, your man's home a couple weeks later and you get some good dick. He's a great lover, and you don't want to diminish what you have together. He's great!

But then you're back at work, you're earning your paycheck and you just get a craving. You want her tongue on your pussy again. You don't think you're ready to eat her out or anything, but that's not really your job, is it? It's literally hers. So you give her a call and ask if she can squeeze you in. And of course she can! She's excited you called, and really enjoyed it last time.

Your next appointment, she doesn't play shy. When you come into her room, she's naked already, kneeling by the bedside. She motions to the bed, has you sit down and spread your legs. She doesn't bother undressing more than she has to. You wore slacks that day, which she slides off along with your underwear before eating you out like an absolute champ. Not quite as tender, but twice as adventurous. After you cum once, she eases up a little, taking gentle licks along your legs, back to your pussy...

The third time she gets a little more adventurous and licks your asshole a little bit, which you rapidly find out you love.

Fourth time she "accidentally" leaves out a strapon and fucks you with it, and you're curious and ask to fuck her back, to which she happily agrees.

Goes on like this for a month or two before you find out Ariel's internship is over! She got a huge contract with a porn studio and moved on up immediately.

You're nervous about a new girl, so you let some time pass and tell yourself it was just a phase.

Then we bring in the new girl. Cute, blonde, shy. You're not quite as stricken as you were with Ariel but Candice (as you find out is her name, on the sly of course) is very cute, and you have a fantasy you never thought you'd have before.

Can't say what that fantasy is, but you stop worrying about it being a girl. That's part of the fun now. Maybe you're feeling a bit of that inner domme and want to just make her eat you out before going about your business. Maybe you found out you're a sub and want to do nothing but please her or make her tie you up and fuck you with a dildo. Doesn't really matter. The point is, you're hooked.

Wait...what point was I trying to make?

Oh yeah, the after effects. Eventually, other girls notice that you're getting your pussy munched by one of the corporate girls and decides that maybe it isn't so bad. So they go through the same song and dance. One turn becomes two, two becomes four, and so on. Eventually people realize they don't mind having sex with girls and start leaning a little bit more on the bisexual side.

With all this it was, maybe within twenty years, very normal to have sex with women. Even some gay guys wouldn't mind playing for the other team a little, and bi-curiousity in otherwise straight men was pretty normal. Everything was to preference, but it didn't matter. The conservative minority had been effectively silenced, as I pushed lesbian sex from something objectionable to a fact of every day life. Where those conservative women who had given me so much trouble in the past would have said "lesbian sex is wrong, promiscuity is wrong" and so on, that was far too extreme a viewpoint for you average housewife to take. In the 1960s you could hate black people, but when Brown vs Board passed, all of a sudden your objections became less and less. While racism was still in existence in the early twenty first century, it was but a shadow of its former self. People don't like to consider themselves extremists, and so by pushing the other extreme as the norm, you force them to come to their perceived center.

Now, most people don't consider themselves extremists. But some do. And some of those like to wield guns and start revolutions and such. Big, scary. Right?

Wrong. First, the number of people who didn't like sex was very small. The number of those people who didn't like it and had moral objections to it was smaller. The number of those who would protest violently was smaller, and the number of people who could was tiny.

I had money and influence, not to mention I controlled virtually the entire sex market. I had private armies and political lobbies and everything else under the sun. The revolution was over before it even began. Well...almost. There were some holdouts, but I'll get to that.

Lesbian sex became the norm, and with a little help from some marketing from me, birth rates plummeted. It was a huge social issue, and one that I was happy to help fix. I started hiring men whose full time occupation was procreation, and gave financial incentive for women who agreed to get impregnated. Out of the goodness of my heart, of course.

At this point, I started bleeding money like a sieve, but for a good reason. I wasn't here to hoard wealth. I was here to conquer the world.

I made sure that I was in almost complete control of birth rates. I made sure sex was cheap, easilyh accessible, safe, and not taboo.

And it worked like a charm.

Scientific progress ground to a halt. After all, society had enough technology for its needs to be met. Every man, woman, and child could be fed and clothed and sheltered. People were satisfied, and if they weren't they were pretty sure it was just because they needed to get off more. It was hedonism at its finest, with none of the usual drawbacks. There was no guilt because I had built the society to make it normal, and laziness wasn't a problem because everyone wanted to be better in bed, so they had something to work for.

No scientific progress, no war, no problems. Mostly sex.

Except the revolution! Ah, there was a revolution of men. See, over the years I may have engaged in a little bit of genetic manipulation and after another hundred years there were twenty females for every male on the planet. Due to social necessity, men were all employed by me as baby-makers, all to give me absolute control over birth and death rates.

Some men didn't like this, so they started a little revolution. Not a violent one, mind you. Guns had been done away with ages ago. No, they wrote poems and songs and books and held meetings and such. Nothing really illegal, but my momentum was far too great to stop by then.

It was hard work, but I got them all rounded up and captured. Nobody looks, because I own the police, the politicians, the media...no, they're all just in prison cells. Big cells, mind you. They're treated very humanely. They're just...kept separate.

And there's my problem, dear reader. The year is 2241. I've just captured the last revolutionaries in the world. Nobody wants to oppose me, because nobody cares to. I control all the marbles. I could do anything in the world and nobody would stop me. I've ended world hunger, brokered world peace, I have birth rates lower than death rates despite a perfectly excellent (and still, advancing, thankfully) medical system.

But the world is cold. Humankind is putty in my hands. What's the point of it all if humankind just...stops?

I thought I could put out my concerns for another fifty years, see how it went, but honestly it took a week for me to start writing this.

I've been driven by my task for hundreds of years, and now that it's done I hate it.

I've made a utopian society based entirely around sex, but the fact of the matter is that since I've also essentially eliminated free will, it's more like a dystopian society.

So what the hell do I do now?

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(Thanks for reading! I'm going to be trying to write more consistently, as well as continuing my Powers of Persuasion series.)