The Show

Gene therapy?

"Well, we can't let your baby have any genetic complications from inbreeding, can we? Fortunately, there's been several advances in medical science that should clear that issue right up," the therapist told me as she held a jar with my DNA sample and handed it to a funky-looking machine with what looked like a mechanical hand that moved around on a thin mechanical crane.

The examination room was in reality a really shiny lab, with all sorts of machines and nifty gadgets that couldn't have been more than a year or two old, if not less than that. A lot of them were stuff I wouldn't have believed even existed a few years ago, but as the doc had said, science had jumped pretty far in the last few years.

"Now, I'm going to give you the full disclosure on the sorts of treatments you'll be having here," she continued. "This sort of gene therapy is all about increasing genetic diversity, to avoid any birth defects or abnormalities. While the procedure is designed to have as few consequences on your body as possible, I do need to warn you that a few minor changes are inevitable, as well as to discuss with you the legal ramifications."

"Changes like what?" I asked, still only intent on sating my curiosity and meeting my obligations before I got the hell out of this creepshow.

"As I said, we'll be diversifying your genes in minor ways. Nothing major... so you won't alter things like hair or eye color...your genetics will still be yours. Simply "strengthened" so that you can produce a healthy baby. However, due to these treatments, you may develop small aesthetic differences. Over the short term, because of unpredictable effects on skin pigmentation, you might gain freckles over parts of your body. Over the long term, some patients have shown early signs of height increase or decrease. Those results, however, are even rarer. Much more common are changes in genital size, menstruation cycles, sexual appetites and sensitivity in the sex organs."

I stammered for words. "That...that seems like a lot!"

"No, nothing severe, Ma'am," she told me, waving her hand. "But the changes in the genitalia are the most likely for your case, because the therapy is for the purposes of breeding. Your son's penis size has already shown substantial--"

I coughed up air, my throat seizing up as I tried to speak without thinking first. "W-Wait, are you saying that Geo has already gone through with this?!"

The doctor blinked. "Yes ma'am. He was here yesterday. He seemed to be very interested in the procedure."

Geo was...interested? What the hell?! Was he that determined to get the money...?

Or was it because...he...wanted to...

I felt my crotch dampen a bit and I vigorously shook my head, flinging those thoughts right out of there. I would ask Geo what he was up to later, but for now, this posed a more immediate problem. One of the stipulations of the free examinations was that both Geo and I had to make the same decision--that is, either accepting or rejecting the procedures unanimously. Now that I knew what Geo had decided, that meant a rejection on my end would make me liable for Geo's half of it. But, if I went through with it, that meant it would be on the house again.

Goddammit, I was stuck! Again!

"Also, there's one other thing I need to let you know about, ma'am."

"What is it?!" I snapped. By now, I was pretty aggravated.

"Many of these options are technically still considered 'eugenics' under international ethics laws, due to the fact that less scrupulous parties could use these procedures to breed out traits they deem 'undesirable' from a gene pool. Eliminate asian eyes or red hair, for example. But our research here is focused on the exact opposite: genetic diversity, although that distinction is not clarified in international law and thus even this methodology is still illegal."

I didn't like where this was headed, not one little bit. "So what are you telling me?"

"That if you opt into the procedure, your body will technically become contraband and subject you to international criminal litigation..."

"WHAT?! Then how the hell could..."

"BUT..." she continued firmly "...thanks to the recent changes in US Federal law, you and your family are free from any litigation because you're technically 'characters' in a television show. That means you're free to break any laws that do not affect anyone else outside of The Studio's periphery."

I tried to speak, but there was a lump in my throat that left me at a complete loss for words. There was no way this could be happening. What they were doing had to be illegal somehow. But then I remembered what they'd told us before we agreed to go on the air. The show was protected under the new Act, meaning that any and all wagers or decisions made for the purposes of airing on televised media were legal, binding and protected from litigation. The only things they weren't allowed to do were commit murder or torture.

I was trapped on two separate fronts...both financially and criminally. If I failed to go through with this procedure, The Studio wouldn't keep me on their programming, meaning that Geo would become an international criminal...and even if I left him to that fate (which I could never bring myself to do, even if it was his own impulsiveness that caused it), that would still leave me with the medical bills to pay.

What in the world was going on here?!?

"Well then," the doctor said, snapping rubber gloves onto her hand as the mechanical assistant returned, holding a syringe filled with an ominous yellow liquid.

"Now that you know all of that, would you like to get started...?"

----

"What the HELL were you thinking!?"

Georgi exploded at Geo as I sat on the living room sofa, sobbing with my head in my hands. Georgi paced back and forth, totally incapable of keeping still. For once, I didn't blame him, because if I weren't utterly terrified of what was going to happen to me in the coming days, I would have been right beside him. But, it was all I could do to steady my nerves and try to come to terms with the fact that all of this was, indeed, real.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Geo argued, shrugging his arms defensively. "The gene therapy procedure looked like a good deal, so I took it."

"A good deal..." my husband repeated, his voice trailing off as the incredulity began to hit ..."a good deal?! You realize, don't you, that you've made yourself...and your mother...an international criminal don't you?!"

"What, are you kidding? No I haven't." He looked at the two of us as I lifted my head and stared at him. "Wait, did either of you actually read the contract they gave us?"

I scoffed and nodded my head. "Only about a billion times."

"And you still missed the most important part...?" Geo chuckled in such an arrogant tone that even I had to hold back from punching him. "Okay, listen, Mom. The contract states that as long as we don't violate the terms they've given us, we'll be legally protected as 'characters' of the show for the rest of their lives, even if we're no longer under any financial or professional obligation. That means, as long as we be cool, act reasonable, and get all of this over with, there isn't a damn thing any law can do to us...international or not!"

Georgi and I stared at him skeptically. "And you know this because...?" he asked.

"Because I understood the stupid contract," Geo told us. "It's a benefit of being a pre-med student; doctors are taught to know what we legally can and can't do, or else we'll cause a massive mess for the hospital and majorly piss off our patients. And, until a certain incident happened, you know I was the top of my class. I know how to read legal bullshitese

"The secretary from before called me up and asked me to set up an appointment yesterday. I--"

"Hold on," I said, my blood beginning to boil. "That secretary called you?!"

"Uh, yeah..." Geo blushed. "I got her number the day of the show. Thought I might ask her out sometime, you know..."

"Oh my God, Geo..." I said, suddenly needing to nurse a headache.

"You know, you guys have the nerve to throw blame at me, but I didn't ask for any of this. Mom's the one who opened the stupid email and made the stupid bet, and you put her up to it, Dad. And now, the way you're playing it, we'd all get nothing out of this except for living under a bridge for the rest of our...."

"That's enough," Georgi interrupted. He had calmed down somewhat, but he was still clearly agitated. So was I, because even if what Geo said was true, that only let him off the hook for what happened at the medical lab. There was still one important matter that he wasn't addressing. "You do realize that 'the terms they've given us' means you'll have to impregnate your mother, don't you?"

"Of course." Geo answered, in a tone a bit too quick, too accepting. When Georgi and I both gave incredulous stares, he added: "What? I'm just stating the obvious. We have to do it, and that's that. In fact, we already did it once, so that bridge has absolutely been crossed. But once it's done, we're free to do whatever. We don't even have to keep the kid."

"Do you hear yourself?! You're saying that fucking your own mother is 'stating the obvious'!"

"What do you want me to do about it, Dad?! As I said, we have two options: either we don't do it and get thrown into the poor house, or we bite the bullet and try and make the most of this."

"That's...that's it. I...I need some fresh air," I said, standing up and rushing toward the back balcony. As I did , I caught a quick glance at what looked like a tent, and a freakishly huge one at that, stretching out the material in the center of Geo's jeans. I quickly recalled what the doctor had said about how Geo's gene therapy had affected him, and...and...was he staring at me? Did I actually turn back and see my own son staring at my ass as I hurried away? With that appreciative gleam in his eye...? Luckily, his father hadn't seen that or...

No. No, I needed to get out of this. No matter what, I had to go to that studio tomorrow and convince them to let me out of this stupid wager!

----

"The exact words of the wager were, '"Contestant must be bred by her eldest son. The breeding must take place in front of the studio or television audiences."

"But, but...there's got to be less stringent ways to interpret that.."

The blond secretary interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on them, her arms and elbows arched firmly on her desk.

"Mrs. Ramirez, please tell me the many different ways that you interpret 'breed you on live television'. I'm sure, over this long week, you've had time to read all of the other numbered definitions of the word 'breed' in the dictionary, but that will hardly fly after you already interpreted it in a very specific way during our last broadcast."

"Damn you..." I sobbed. "Goddamn you..." I collapsed on the floor, limply hanging onto the side of her desk as she adjusted her glasses. "You're all monsters. Every one of you."

"Mrs. Ramirez, believe it or not, some of us are doing the best we can for you. My bosses decide the basic directive, and I'm given the task of writing them in the contracts for you and helping guide you along the safest and most comfortable route. I tried to choose the least-manipulative wording I could while also performing the job I was dictated.

"But the initial blame is on you. You saw millions of dollar signs in your eyes. You allowed your opponent to bait you into a false sense of security. And you agreed to such ridiculous stakes. Forgive me for the aptness of this phrasing, but you've made your bed and now, you certainly have to get fucked in it.

"Or, you can walk away and keep your pride, but lose absolutely everything else."

No matter what I tried, no matter who I pleaded to, the answer was the same. Everything was legal in the eyes of the court. The studio had covered every base. It was within their legal right to do whatever they liked and to enforce whatever rules they wanted.

I was completely fucked.

My voice weak and trembling, I begged the receptionist for some way...ANY way that I could get out of this. But it was explained that reneging on a deal would have made on the show would cost The Studio an exorbitant sum of money.

And this deal would cost them even more than usual.

MBC's ratings were at their highest since its premiere, and its website and message boards were burning up with new fans talking about when the next breeding was going to take place. Backing out now would literally be costing The Studio hundreds of millions, and I would be liable for it all.

"Of course, you'd also be the most hated woman in America for God knows how long," she explained to me. "Americans can tolerate almost anything, except whatever spoils their beloved entertainment. You could receive harassment, death threats, and attempts on your own life or that of your children.

"Mrs. Ramirez, I'd think very hard about whether or not this is the path you wish to take. If it's a choice between being fucked on camera for a few months, creating a wonderful new life in my womb and becoming an overnight media sensation...or becoming liable for millions of dollars, making millions of Americans into my enemies and ruining the lives of myself and everyone I love...I know what decision I would make in your place."

She let me stew on that for a minute while she tapped a stack of papers on her desk. I stood there, dumbstruck, searching my brain for something to say, but I couldn't find a thing. The secretary looked up from her work, giving me a chance to speak or leave. My shoulders shrunk, defeated, and I began slinking away towards the door.

"Besides, Mrs. Ramirez," she added just as I opened it, "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

I hissed at her. "What?!"

"I saw you during that taping. I heard the sounds you made while you were being fucked by your son. There's no way you were faking that. And believe me, with that son of yours, lots of women envy your position. So why not just go with it?"

"Get fucked!" I screeched at her.

"Tell Geo to come by and I'll do just that!" she cackled back as the door slammed behind me.

----

"Make the most of it."

"Just go with it."

I clutched my pounding breast on the way home as my inescapable fate sunk in further and further. Both Geo and that slutty secretary had more or less said the same thing to me: that I should accept what was going to happen. That I should embrace what was what was going to happen. That I should...enjoy it.

Realizing that the way things were heading, it was only a matter of time until my son bred me, I stumbled home, where I found The Studio's "gifts" in the mailbox again: this time, there was a catalog of intimate apparel and kinky fetishwear packaged along with some "free samples". Also inside the package was a typed memo (by now, I could recognize that bitch of a secretary's tone and speech patterns) inviting me to pick any outfits I'd like. They'd pay for anything I picked, at no cost to me. They even included a book of sex positions that both increased pleasure and likelihood of conception.

How thoughtful of them.

When Geo got home, he confirmed (as I'd expected) that they'd sent the same "gifts" to him as well. He said that it looked like they hadn't expressed any stipulations, time limits, or obligations this time. He sounded happy about that, and I should have been too, I suppose. But I was definitely not in the mood, and neither was Georgi, who just disappeared in the basement and didn't come out for the rest of the day. Some time after night had fallen, the shattering crash of a liquor bottle told me what he'd been up to down there.

I was trying to take my mind off of things with some television when I glanced up at the clock and realized that it was 4:40 PM, around the time the doctors had suggested that I take the second dose of gene therapy and fertility drugs. At first, I planned to ignore it...hell, I had half a mind to throw out the whole damn bottle...

But then, the realization finally hit me.

I wasn't going to refuse.

The alternative was to lose everything and ruin all of our lives forever. No matter what happened now, I was going to get pregnant. It was only a question of when.

So then...why wouldn't I take the medication that would ensure it sooner rather than later? What sense would it make to drag things out?

As much as I hated to admit it. Geo had been right. The secretary had been right. Once I got pregnant, I'd have fulfilled my end of the bargain, and I'd be free of this Hell.

So it made more sense to take the medicine now, right? That would mean I wouldn't have to demean myself for as long, wouldn't it?

With that in mind, I got a glass of water and took my second dose of the day.

When I got back to the couch, I also noticed the sex manual sitting on the coffee table. Remembering what I'd decided earlier, I picked it and chose to thumb through a few pages, just to find some sex positions which maximized chance of conception. If I could, I wanted to get pregnant on the first shot.

But, as I searched, I found several that looked kinda...fun. Like sitting criss-crossed, with our bodies facing each other, resting our hands on the surface behind us to provide leverage for our grinding cock and pussy. Or another I'd lay with my head and hands against a wall, while my son stood up with my legs tucked around his waist, while he pounded me deep and hard...

Before I knew it, my body was reacting and my mind was making what it felt real. I could perfectly recall the shape and feel of Geo's cock, as well as the sensation of him pounding hard into my ass to build me to a climax. I was able to perfectly create a simulation of these positions in my mind that felt authentic and all too real. And unconsciously, my body was squirming, writhing under the fantasy.

I was getting so turned on that I abruptly stopped reading, threw the book across the floor and rubbed my face in my hands, wondering just what the hell I was doing and why I was fantasizing about sex with my son. I didn't want to do this, I told myself again. And if it weren't for the game show, I wouldn't be doing this!

Then why did I agree to the wager?

Because I needed the money. We needed the money.

There were plenty of other ways to send my son to medical school.

Yes, but this paid the best and seemed like easy money.

But that doesn't explain why I accepted the wager. I could have just walked away. Why didn't I just back out of the wager and lose the game?

Because that wouldn't have been any fun.

"And besides, Mrs. Ramirez, you're really enjoying this, aren't you?

"You SLUT."

My eyes popped open and it was only then that I realized that my mind had been fumbling through a dream. I rubbed the sweat off of my forehead and looked at the clock which read that it was ridiculously-late-o'clock, and then I shuffled off to the bedroom without showering or looking for my night clothes. I noticed that my husband wasn't there and the bed was still cold. I figured that it might be the best that way, but I could have really used some physical comfort right about then...

----

"Do you secretly WANT this!? Is that what this is?!"

"Excuse me...?!"

The morning of the next show had finally arrived, and I was in the bedroom getting dressed. I had picked out one of the piece of lingerie the show had given me for free, and placed in a bag to carry to the studio.