Tears of the Mayfly

Author's Notes:

Tears of the Mayfly is set in the same universe as Bacchus, but for the most part, they are separate and distinct tales.

It's science fiction where everything is possible, but this one comes with a TRIGGER WARNING or maybe just a DISCLAIMER. Whatever you call it, this story is a little different, so if you don't wish to explore unfamiliar paths, look elsewhere.

Feel free to skip this story if you have difficulty accepting sexualities beyond heterosexuality. I've no wish to offend anyone's sensitivities, but I won't constrain a story because of them either.

It's not a story about transsexuality or sexual identity. I'm waving NO flags here.

The main character is a genetically engineered being who is physically male AND female and is given the personality templates for both. That's a lot for a being to deal with.

Additionally, the story contains violence and death. Bacchus can be a scary place as its function is to feed the base desires of its visitors, and sometimes it gets dark.

I know some of my readers are sensitive to such things, so feel free to skip this story if you don't want to read about them. I understand, and it won't hurt my feelings.

All the above aside, this story has a core of love and hope for those whose hearts are open and willing to accept it in its many shapes and orientations.

All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older. Or were implanted with the intellect and sensibilities of said age group.

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Tears of the Mayfly

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Chapter 1

Planet Bacchus had earned its reputation as a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. While the adults-only party planet catered to the masses with many culturally acceptable entertainment activities, its offerings went well beyond, into the realms of the morally bankrupt.

This wasn't a planet for families until they'd all reached adulthood.

As long as you could afford to pay for it, nothing was out of bounds, and you could rest assured of the host's discretion. What happened on Bacchus stayed on Bacchus. This policy was better for business than extortion, as word of mouth was their best marketing, and repeat customers were their bread and butter.

The planet's administrators knew that many visitors would never participate in the more extreme activities, but they still got a perverse thrill just knowing they were close to it.

With their state-of-the-art genetics labs and absolutely no moral constraints (only financial ones), any creature could be created for the patron's use or abuse in most cases.

None of the creations were allowed off-planet. Genetically Engineered Entities, or Genies as they were called, were still illegal on most planets in the Confederacy, though some were beginning to accept them in limited ways.

While the clever geneticists were quite capable of producing a weaponized virus that could wipe out all human life, there was no profit in that, so they stuck to creating sex and murder surrogates.

To prevent the accidental creation of said virus, all genetic templates were thoroughly vetted in virtual space before being approved for physical delivery.

All diseases and physical ailments were screened from the creations, making them far healthier than the patrons. If they were expected to serve for extended periods, they'd be given immunity boosters and rapid healing capabilities, which protected management's investment.

At the opposite end of that spectrum, Mayfly was the name given to Genies created for use in Bacchus' rougher establishments. There was no expectation of longevity, so they'd be delivered healthy and typically leave the building in a body bag, most often the next day. They weren't given immunity boosters or fast-heal but instead received a genetic kill switch, limiting their lifespan to a maximum of three days, should they survive the patron's use for that long. Triggered by their birth, a malignant tumor would begin to grow rapidly at the base of their skull until it crushed their brain stem by the end of the third day, give or take a few hours.

This was considered another form of protection for keeping their creations in check. There was no point escaping if you wouldn't survive long enough to see another planet.

On Bacchus, the administrators were gods, the establishment operators were their enforcers, and life for the Genies was Hell.

But the patrons always had a good time.

Satisfaction guaranteed.

-=-

Senior Specialist Dheren glared at the screen as he read a last-minute requisition for new dancers from Madam DeGaul's Lady's Night Resort.

The psychotic bitch had offed an entire squad of talent in a fit of jealous rage again. Ten dead Genies. He suspected she must be off her meds. This latest waste of resources was going on her record, so the admins upstairs could make an adjustment if they determined they'd had enough of her shit.

Dheren had already decided she should get the boot, but it wasn't his call.

It was the end of his work shift, so he was working on his own personal project as his contract allowed. Truthfully, all the geneticists were encouraged to play a little as this typically benefited their employers, too.

His current pet peeve was the Mayfly template. While cheap to produce, he was convinced he could make a more economical template if he could make them last their full term. Not many lasted the full three days! This would mean he and his colleagues could spend less time on such mundane work.

Including the immunity boost and fast-heal features into the existing template wasn't an option as that conflicted with their kill switch and increased unit cost too much. It couldn't be justified.

However, he thought he'd found a way to make the existing template incorporate a new method for mildly augmenting immunity and accelerating minor healing based on a more efficient digestion system without conflicting with the aggressive tumor's growth. He was very pleased with himself for discovering this radical new biochemical process. He'd done extensive research to ensure he wasn't stepping on anyone else's trademark. As it was new, and he was the first, he was looking at a juicy bonus.

The fuel for this enhanced digestive function was just one additional ration bar per feeding period, once in the morning and once in the late afternoon. Five to six food bricks cost less than implementing the immunity boost and fast-heal features. It wouldn't save a lot of money, but it would save his team time, so they were rooting for his success.

He'd spent the better part of an hour putting the final touches on his template and getting it approved for physical prototyping. With this stupid rush requisition for more dancers, he'd have to push it off until next week!

He glared at the screen and then suddenly had a thought. His prototype would have to go to the test team, which would take weeks before they sent their analysis report back. He was never convinced their testing matched real-life usage. If he included his prototype with the order of dancers, he could get real testing results within three days. It went against protocols, but he'd be looking at a slap on the knuckles at most as he was one of their senior-most geneticists and far too valuable to the team.

The Madam would have to agree to include a Mayfly in her order and be willing to submit a new order for one dancer when the Mayfly expired.

He smiled as he knew how to get her to agree. He placed the call and used her direct number from the requisition. It didn't take long for her to answer, so she must be aware of the ramifications of her actions.

"Helena DeGaul speaking."

"Ms. DeGaul, this is Senior Specialist Dheren from Soylent Labs. I'm looking at your expedited requisition for a squad of dancers. You understand it's quite unusual to see such a large order of long-term assets in a rush order. You need these tonight?"

There was a moment of silence then her voice returned, but it was very controlled. "There was an accident—"

"The second one of its kind, according to our records. That's going to draw attention. Not good attention either," he suggested.

"What do you want?" Now the voice was angry but still controlled, so she must be back on her meds.

"Favor for a favor. I'll drop the details section regarding the loss of the assets, a simple clerical omission, and I'll send you a new squad."

"In exchange for?" she asked cautiously.

"One of the dancers will be a Mayfly. A prototype of mine that requires real-life experience testing," he said reasonably.

"I need dancers, not some monster! They have to look human, sexy, and masculine! Mayflies die too quickly!" she snapped.

He calmed himself before answering. "It will be a dancer. My prototype is an attempt to make a more durable Mayfly. Once it dies, just place a requisition for one dancer, and I'll fulfill it with a long-term asset. Then I'll have the Mayfly's body picked up."

There was a pause as she considered the offer. "This is acceptable, but the Mayfly needs to be a beautiful male!" she insisted.

"I understand. Good business to you."

"Good business." She hung up immediately. Not one for small talk, obviously.

He turned back to his project and gave it a critical look. He always built his creations with a female template, tweaked to his sexual tastes, of course. Big titties and a fat ass every time! As the cosmetics made no difference to his work, why not have a little fun with it.

He saved a copy and then began altering the template's cosmetic features. He reduced the breasts to almost nothing and tightened up the butt until it was firm with only the slightest roundness.

Now for the most significant change. He switched the sex of the template and ran a quick simulation. He cursed as he saw how badly the change of its hormonal balance fucked up the finely tuned precision of its body chemistry! He'd be set back at least a week!

Frustrated, he purged the template and restored a copy from the backup he'd made.

As one of Soylent's top senior geneticists, he had access to the company's secret archive of genetic templates. Not content with that, he'd dipped into the restricted folders for the rarest files. He'd discovered one with pale porcelain skin, long white-blonde hair with gentle waves, and an almost ethereal beauty to its features. These features made it his preferred template for his pet projects. He'd made a local copy, which was against corporate policy, but he only used it for internal modeling so no one would know. A Mayfly wouldn't get much exposure for the three days it got to live.

He sat staring at his pneumatic bimbo as he contemplated how he might make this work. The Madam wanted a beautiful male. His frown slowly became a sly smile as he realized an option was available to him.

To save himself time in adjusting all the physique specs, he pulled the data from an existing template for a female athlete's body and fed it into his project file. He made subtle adjustments to boost the musculature to emphasize masculine characteristics. His creation would be very strong but without the exaggerated bulk of slabs of muscle.

The long hair worked for either sex, but he shortened it to mid-back instead of his preferred ass length. He kept the longer lashes framing its blue eyes.

He removed the emphasized cheekbones and the over-inflation of its lips. This brought the Genie back to its natural beauty. He spent a little time perfecting the symmetry of its features, which were the smallest tweaks. Looking at the finished product critically, he believed it would pass for a male, but as the Madam insisted, it was beautiful. A male with a powerful feminine edge to his looks.

He took a moment to admire the new template. He was creating art, much like the marble statues crafted by Michelangelo and Gianlorenzo Bernini, the master artists he admired so much from Humanity's ancient past. As it already had a porcelain skin tone, he ensured all skin below its eyelashes was hairless to keep to this sculpture motif.

He spun up a virtual model of the new template and smiled at the one-point-eight-meter-tall hologram projected before him. He tweaked the shoulders to make them just a hint broader, and he was almost done. Its features were perhaps a little too androgynous, but there were enough masculine hints—except for a rather important one. Now, he decided to get a little creative.

He spent a couple of hours reworking the plumbing on the creation until he was satisfied. He merged his changes into the modified template. His creation now sported a reasonably sized penis with foreskin intact and testicles, a very masculine feature for such a svelte being. There was no need for excess here.

There was still a vagina just behind the testicles, then the anus. It was a busy neighborhood between its legs.

He grinned as he tried to imagine the Madam's expression when she discovered the extras.

Now it was time to design its programming, his least favorite part.

Begrudgingly, he added the stripper dance module to the build resource files, then remembered to add the male stripper module as well. It would have the skills to dance either way.

Finally, as his creation would likely be expected to have sex with patrons, he included both female and male sexual arts modules in the build resource files. These modules contained sexual aggression modifiers, so installing both might conflict, but the Genie didn't get a say in who they fucked, so he assumed it didn't really matter.

Before he saved the results, he ran through the adjustments he'd made to his experiment. While he'd done a fine job hiding the creature's female nature, its default behavior would be a dead giveaway as he'd chosen a submissive personality matrix.

He glanced at the clock and realized he'd gone well past his shift. He was beat. Spending additional hours tweaking the behavior was not going to happen. Instead, he brought up a grid of male personality matrices and selected one with just a hint of dominance. He used this as a final overlay module. He knew multiple personality matrixes was a recipe for madness, but it only had to last for three days, and even if it self-destructed after just two, he'd have the data he needed.

He saved his final template and filed it in his personal project docket. He submitted a copy from there into the main build engine.

He ran an approval scan once he'd included the standard modules for Genies. He spotted a few alerts questioning the modules chosen, including the red flag for the dual personality matrixes. He used his senior technician ID to cancel these alerts and proceeded with the approval request. It returned quickly with a permission code. He smiled, pleased with himself, and submitted the build request to make his design flesh and blood.

Fun stuff accomplished, he dug up the templates for the male strippers and selected a set of nine to build. These were queued, and he signed off on the requisition. Once the beings left their vats, they'd be washed, dressed, prepped, and delivered to DeGaul.

His job was done, and he was going home.

Nothing beat the feeling of creating a new life!

Even if it wasn't expected to survive past the weekend.

Chapter 2

Awareness follows consciousness.

Sion became conscious shortly after leaving the birthing vat. Workers bathed, dried, attached its discipline collar, then dressed the new arrival while the installed modules sorted and integrated themselves within Sion's brain. Some weren't playing friendly with each other, particularly the personality matrices. This left Sion with anxiety and confusion as the conflict remained.

All this happened, yet there was no awareness.

A group of attractive males were marched by, and Sion was directed to follow them. They continued down a long hall following a worker in a white clean-suit. They marched through a wide door to take seats on benches against two sides of the rectangular space. The worker locked them in their seat restraints and left, closing the doors.

Awareness arrived.

-=-

"Hey!"

Sion blinked in the dim light to see the box they were sitting in. Seats. Restraints. Walls with just enough translucence to give them light to see. Movement was felt, so the space they were in was currently mobile.

"Hey!"

Sion looked across the space into the eyes of a handsome, dark-haired male. His eyes were a lovely green, but they were also confused.

"Are you supposed to be here? With us?" he asked.

"Why?" Sion asked as their purpose and destination suddenly came to mind.

"We're going to a strip club... for women," the man continued.

"You are awfully pretty to be looking to flash a dick at the ladies," a dark-skinned male next to Sion said. He suddenly reached between Sion's legs and got a handful through the thin, gauzy fabric of his pants. "Damn! He is one of us! Maybe two of you!" he joked, looking across at the confused Genie. The others laughed as green eyes grinned self-consciously, but he never looked away from Sion.

He.

Something in Sion's mind was caught on that identifier. It was troubling. The term he felt... incomplete? Wrong? No, not wrong, but not right, either. The confusion from before surfaced in Sion's consciousness, as did the anxiety.

Pushing the grabbing hand away, Sion's troubled thoughts passed through her... his... their mind. They. With the confusing duality in their brain, the identifier they seemed... closer.

Then, there was no more time to worry as they'd arrived.

The far end of the box opened, and their restraints disengaged.

"Come on, newbies! Time to leave your packaging and join the real world!" a deep male voice barked loudly.

The men stood and filed out. Sion brought up the rear. The male Genie standing at the opening directed the men left and right as he examined them.

Then, it was Sion's turn.

"What the fuck?" the big man growled. He took a good long look, then read the sheet he held. "There's gotta be a mistake. We don't have any female dancers."

"Don't be fooled! He's packing!" the grabby one called out.

The deep-voiced male gave Sion a surprised look and reached down to find out for himself.

Sion knocked his hand aside and glared at him. "No free rides!" They felt a simultaneous surge of anger and nervousness.

The men watching this hooted and laughed, their excitement ramping up as they saw the big guy getting angry. Pretty boy was going to get a beating.

The man looked into Sion's eyes but spoke to the room. "Understand what I'm about to tell you because next time, I won't use words to get my point across. I'm Darius, the club's squad commander. I'm in charge of all the so-called talent that enters these doors. While you're here, my word is law, and you will live by my rules. You're new, so you have no significance. You're just newbie shit I scrape from my slipper."

Darius reached once more towards Sion's groin only to have his hand slapped away.

The fist that hit Sion's stomach was fast and brutally hard, lifting them into the air only to fall to the floor and crumple into a ball. Sion desperately strained to inhale a breath.

Darius scanned the men watching this and snorted in satisfaction as none were laughing now.

He dropped to one knee and grabbed a fistful of blonde hair. He yanked Sion's head back to smack against the floor as he pushed the bent legs down.

For the second time in the brief period of Sion's awareness, a rough hand was grabbing his cock through his pants? The material was obviously designed to let the patrons cop a feel, too.

What was being squeezed now was a cock, and it was definitely attached as he felt the male's grip, so... that meant they had to be a he, right? Right?