Altered Genesis Ch. 08

Dean stopped outside old housing project to check the address again. Silverfemme estate was not exactly where he expected to find himself. The high rise of concrete and steel had been part of an inner city housing initiative from decades past. Back then the apartments were an affordable option for the lower-middle class.

He took a deep breath and looked at the faded and cracked paint that was falling off the concrete facade. It didn't seem like anyone living inside was able to throw much money around. He had been hoping to find a brand new high rise apartment or a seaside mansion.

"It's an indie production company that like to keep the overhead low," he told himself.

Then he made his way inside.

A dozen femme where on their way out of the lobby as he approached the entrance. They all bore a family resemblance. He moved to one side and waited for them to pass. Eyes moved up and down his body as three generations of femme walked past and chatted loudly but not a single male was among them. They were the stereotypical welfare queens that he had always hated. The government would give support to unemployed femme that exceeded the average wage of a male. It was likely that none of the femme in that family had ever worked a job in their lives. Why would they? Of course, a male child would not yield the same benefits as a femme, so male children would typically be exiled into a poorer district to be raised by their farther.

The elevator stopped on the 18th floor with an unceremonious beep. The doors to the top floor opened, Dean paused for a moment before stepping into the hallway. He was 10 minutes early so he took his time walking over the cracked tiles.

His stomach stirred with nerves. He knew that he had no choice. Taking a deep breath he stared at the plaque on the door. It read, '1810 - Silverfemme towers'

He knocked on the door twice. Moments later, a muscular boy in his late twenties opened the door. The boy had a chiselled jaw and deep dark eyes. He wore Chloe Goldfemme hotpants and a tight shirt. His hairless legs were very well developed and his arms lean and strong. Dean immediately felt intimidated by him.

"Er... hi. I'm Dean. I have a four o'clock audition," he said haltingly.

The host looked Dean up and down then motioned with his head, "First door on the left."

Dean wore leggings, his favourite shoes and a long sleeve shirt. When he opened the door, two boys looked up at him. After noting that it was just another competitor, they paid him no mind and returned to their phones. One sat on the edge of the bed and the other had turned the study chair to face the door. Dean felt a lump in his throat when he noticed that neither boy was wearing a shirt. One wore hotpants while the other wore nothing but a tight elastic pouch encasing his genitals.

Dean felt over-dressed.

"The ladies are running behind schedule. Make yourself comfortable. There's refreshments on the table," said the host.

He closed the door behind Dean.

Despite being a guest bedroom, it was still bigger than the living room at Melody's place. The curtains on the back wall were partially drawn to reveal the disappointing view of an identical high rise apartment next door. Dean sat on the other side of the bed.

His nerves began to build. Taking a deep breath, he poured himself a glass of water and almost spilled some on the table when the door opened suddenly. It was the host again.

He looked down at his pad before he spoke, "Henry, you're up."

The boy in the pouch picked up his bag and rose to his feet. A full glass of water was sitting on the desk next him, he downed it in moments. As he turned away he revealed that he wore nothing but a g-string. Dean looked away in shock. The boy was gone.

--

Aaliyah Lockwood starred at the boyish bubble butt as it disappeared behind the elastic hotpants. The material stretched to envelop the youthful masculine assets, unimpeded by even the slightest trace of unsightly body hair. A pristine pink sphincter and plump balls were paraded before her as a final plea for her consideration before disappearing behind the thin curtain. It was a delicious sight; the boy wouldn't have been invited to audition if he didn't have something to offer. He faced away from her and kept his knees straight, bending only from the waist as he slid the hot pants back on. It was a sign of desperation that she always loved to see in a boy. But his ass was a little flabby and there was a notable absence of nicely formed abdominals.

Twenty years ago she never would have imagined that such a beautiful sight could ever become subpar. Growing up in Riyadh, naked boys were a novelty reserved only for solitary nights on the internet.

Sure, Saudi Arabia was a member of the UN and had made tremendous strides towards feminine rights since the genetic revolution. But the vestiges of patriarchy were much stronger there. They had more males still in political power than America did. This filled the heads of her early boyfriends with all kinds of outmoded delusions of equality.

The boys back home always seemed a bit frigid. In her early twenties, it had taken her three full months to convince her first boyfriend to give up his virginity to her. She couldn't understand why he wanted to wait until marriage before giving it up. But things became clearer when she found out how tiny his cock was. Suffice it to say that he didn't last very long after that. Many males back home would use their sexuality as tool for control and power; only putting out after a lady had committed her life to them.

That wouldn't be such an issue if she wasn't expected to remain faithful to one man. But in traditional marriage she would be required to remain faithful to him. Even pornography was frowned upon for a married femme.

By the time that she was 40, Aaliyah was still unmarried. Her mother was pressuring her for grandchildren, constantly trying to set her up with the son of one of her colleagues or even the grandson of her boss. The boys were all young and some of them were reasonably pretty, but she could never see herself staying with one man. She was too accustomed to the constant availability of exceptional cock on her phone. Every night she would pretend to fuck dozens of boys from around the world. It was bliss.

She believed that variety was the spice of life but the consequences for a femme's infidelity could be harsh. Divorce laws back home meant that she could loose half of all her possessions if she was caught cheating. Yet another old law from patriarchal times that favoured the male. Coming from a lower-class family, marriage was not a risk that Aaliyah was willing to take.

Since she was a teenager, she longed for the stereotypical sweet submissive American boy that she saw in movies and pornography. Those boys new how to treat a lady, and in America they couldn't just divorce her and take half of everything if they caught her enjoying herself with another boy.

No, she knew that only American boys would do. They seemed to always love strong femme and be ready for a good long riding. They weren't arrogant and opinionated like those back home. They all seemed so quiet and demure, respectful and submissive to femme.

And sweet Goddess did they know how to dress. Tight leggings that revealed their bulge and tight mid-drift shirts to show off their abs; it was enough to make any red-blooded femme wet.

Their beautiful blue eyes would stare up at you lovingly as they lap up your cum eagerly. They would never protest when you take them across your lap to teach them the new and proper way of things. Their pale bubble butts would stay nice and still as they were marked by your firm correction. They would count each stroke out loud as your paddle slapped the round firm flesh. As you marked them with your will, they would stick their butts out to honour each demonstration of your supremacy. And when it was all over they would thank you for it and beg to make it up to you with some oral sex; even if they hadn't done anything wrong. No, they wouldn't give you oral, they would worship your pussy, begging for you to cover them in your cum.

And if you wanted to enjoy their cock, all it would take was a couple of firm slaps to get them desperately hard and ready to be taken. Their big submissive dicks would be begging you to ride them until you cum all over them again. American penis always seemed to be there for your pleasure. They could fuck for hours without cumming. At least that's what they seemed like in porn.

When Aaliyah moved to America she left everything behind to start a new life. She changed her family name to match the screenname that she had been using for years: Lady Lockwood. She dreamt of finding an American husband and some boy toys on the side. It was a difficult transition for her career but nothing else mattered as long as there were hot blue eyed boys within her grasp. Back home her prospects were drying up because of her age, but she had read that American boys weren't so prejudiced against older femme. Especially older femme with money. She might have been poor by middle-eastern standards, but in America, that made her fairly comfortable.

Of course things weren't quite like she had imagined. The boys weren't anywhere near as easy or accommodating as her online research had led her to believe. But they were still an improvement. She had a couple of flings with some slutty lower class boys who were nicely hung. But with three femme for every boy, there was a lot of competition for cock. A competition that she was finally winning now that her new business venture was off the ground.

She glanced over at Tammy's pad, to find that she had just finished placing the recent candidate's vitals into the spreadsheet and plotted them on a bar graph. He was adequately endowed but still the smallest that they had seen so far.

"Thanks Travis we'll call you," Rita's tone of voice implied that she wanted him to hurry up and leave. They were running late after all.

He picked up his shirt from the floor and stuffed it into his bag, then slung one strap over his shoulder and gathered his shoes with visible urgency. He made his way back down the hall and closed the door of the apartment behind him.

"At least that one had been snipped," Tammy Freefemme broke the silence and the others chuckled.

"Yea, that's a downside of not going through an agency. We can't always expect the ideal, and some of these boys will require a lot of direction," Rita replied.

"Not Henry, he has plenty of experience," Tammy responded.

"But that's where the fun is," Aaliyah looked over the city under twilight as she spoke, "A naïve, innocent boy will often rate higher with audiences than a trained professional. And the middle-femme takes a huge cut when you use an agency. Besides, all the extra hassle is a pain. Talent agents are a menace in this industry. It's part of the reason I started this enterprise. We are better off without them."

"I hope you're right," Tammy responded with concern.

Tammy was always counting and calculating, she couldn't help it. Caution and pedantic attention to detail had earned her a role in middle management at her accounting firm. Aaliyah valued her uniquely careful disposition but knew that she didn't have any experience in the porn business.

"It's still early days for us, Mark has already done very well despite being older," Aaliyah said reassuringly. "We are only shooting our second boy, give it some time."

Mark entered the room in reverent silence, "One more candidate remains. Dinner just arrived, shall I serve now as planned or keep things warm until after the final interview?"

"Keep our dinner warm. Top up our drinks then send him in. Fetch our dinner once the last boy is gone," Aaliyah stared vacantly at his pouch and beautiful legs as she spoke.

"Certainly domina," he responded before collecting the empty glasses.

"And Mark."

"Yes domina."

"You are progressing so very well with your training. Just remember to only speak when spoken to. If you require clarification on a matter then your domina will give it without solicitation. The best boys anticipate the needs of their superiors."

Mark swallowed and nodded silently.

Aaliyah raised her eyebrows with an expectant smile.

"Yes domina," Mark added quickly.

"That's what I like to hear," she grinned. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Just do better next time."

Marked nodded while looking at the floor before continuing to collect glasses.

"See, a few good lessons and the proper magic are more effective than the years of the training employed by talent agencies. Our Mark is already superior in every way," Aaliyah said.

Mark was used to being spoken about. He smiled proudly and remained focused on the task at hand.

"So this last boy," Tammy spoke haltingly as she watched Mark's butt wiggle as he returned to the kitchen, "The blonde boy from the shower video. He looks hot."

"Yea his informal audition was outstanding," Rita added with a smirk.

"Well-hung blue-eyed blondes do well in India, China and the middle East. I'm glad that we finally have one trying out. That's the target market these days. Over there porn is less socially acceptable but they have much more disposable income," Tammy pondered while working away on her pad.

Aaliyah nodded politely at the obvious statement. She was willing to put up with Tammy's extraordinary ability to state the obvious for the sake of her outstanding attention to detail.

"He certainly has potential," Tammy said. "But he is clearly hopeless at controlling that big dick. Remember how he spoiled himself in no time during that evil little shower wank? That young buck is a horny little sinner."

"He does seem to lack self-discipline," Aaliyah had some concern in her voice. "But ultimately, self-discipline has nothing to do with it. No male is capable of controlling his own cock anyway. Especially a hot young stud like that. Only a true lady who is imbued with the power of the Goddess can rescue him from his sin. I'm sure that he will encounter her power and repent, just as Mark has done. Then he will also become a good obedient boy and learn his place. He just needs to be taught the true purpose that the Goddess had in mind when she made that fabulous dildo between his legs."

"Mm," Tammy murmured in agreement as she watch Mark come back around the corner with fresh drinks in hand, "It's encouraging to see how quickly a sinful boy can be rehabilitated to love and worship Dibella. But let's not get carried away, he needs to perform well in the audition first."

"He's really made an impression on you already hasn't he, Ali," Rita smiled proudly.

Aaliyah took a thoughtful pause as Mark handed her a glass of scotch.

"I guess so," she said. "Hopefully he will be a good boy. What do you think Mark, is he a good boy?"

"He is handsome domina," he paused. "However, a bit stupid. He seems to think that the jug of Viagra in the waiting room is just water."

The ladies all chuckled heartily.

"Praise the Goddess," Rita smiled.

"Go fetch him! We are in for a good show," Tammy sent him away with a firm spank on his bottom.

"Your glasses are ready to record Ali. They still have power for a couple more hours."

Aaliyah raised her right index finger to her temple and tapped the frame twice. A red dot blinked in the corner of he heads up display in her lenses. She was ready.

--

The pain in Dean's bulge was distracting. While in the waiting room he had removed his leggings to reveal his Chloe Goldfemme hot pants underneath. This brought his predicament into sharp focus.

He drank all the water in the jug and went to the toilet to calm his nerves but nothing helped his extreme erection. Why was he so aroused by this situation? The same thing had happened when he spoke to Rita about the role when he was at the gym. Did he have some unknown fetish for being naked and exposed? Did he secretly love the feeling of performing on camera? He didn't want to be aroused, but it felt like he had no say in it. A wave of shame began to overwhelm him.

The door opened, it was the host, "It's time."

Dean nodded and gingerly made his way to the door, mortified to see the humiliating tent in his pants.

"You forgot your bag," the host snapped with a hint of hostility.

"Oh, sorry," Dean scurried back for it.

He looked down to see the outline of his tumescent masculinity. Not even the unforgiving elastic could overcome the feelings of arousal that drove his cock into a submissive erection. It was as if it was desperately calling out for feminine approval.

He breathed in sharply as the hallway opened up to a modest dining and lounge room. On one side of the room was a bookcase and TV. The walls were a bland ivory colour. A tiny balcony was opposite the hallway, it afforded a partially obstructed view of the neighbourhood. The room looked like a generic apartment, nothing like what he expected.

A large sofa came into view and he was startled to find three ladies perched on it as they sipped drinks. Their eyes immediately locked onto him with calculating appraisal. They all smiled; that helped him to feel at ease.

The unappealing ladies on the panel where all wearing standard professional attire. With their black and grey blouses under thick suit jackets and long skirts that fell to the floor, they could have passed for any standard office employees. The one on the left was a familiar face, Rita Gynohold. Next to her sat two more ladies, one with grey hair and one with pure white hair sat in the middle. They were both in their sixties and overweight. The panel of judges were all unattractive and intimidating. He could feel a weight of anxiety on his chest. After a moment had passed, all of their eyes were fixed to the bulge in his pants. Suppressed smiles spread across their faces.

Unsure of what to do. Dean dropped his bag in the corner of the room and then stood in the middle. The silence was deafening. They watched, observed, waiting to see what he would do. He wanted to put his hands in front of his erection, but it seemed like such an effort would not be appreciated.

The lady in the middle broke the silence, "Well. Aren't you just adorably handsome."

The other two ladies murmured agreement. Dean felt a rush of blood to his face. He knew that he was prone to blushing, which only exacerbated the situation.

"Oh so sweet," Rita said. "You made him blush Ali."

The ladies smiled warmly.

"So," the grey haired lady on the right was looking at her pad then up and over her glasses at him, "You must be Dean Johnson."

"Yes, my lady," Dean responded as politely as he could.

"How old are you Dean?"

"20, my lady."

"Good manners sweetie," the lady in the centre responded, " But I'm afraid that my chief administrator couldn't wait and skipped our introductions."

Her pure white hair gave her a regal presence. She was clearly in charge. He felt his cock pulse with renewed defiance against the thin elastic of his hotpants.

"This is the casting director and performer Rita Gynohold, administrator Tammy Freefemme and I am the producer and performer, lady Aaliyah Lockwood."

Dean nodded at each name, "A pleasure to meet you ladies."

"The pleasure is all ours," Tammy smirked and moved over to one side so that Dean could sit between her and lady Lockwood. "You look awfully tense. Come sit with us. We are really very nice."

After hesitating for a second or two, Dean did as he was told. The uncomfortable process of sitting down while wearing the Chloe Goldfemme hotpants was exacerbated by his phallic offering. He did his best to act unfazed as the wiry lining rode up his butt and squashed his testicles even more than usual. The added strain induced by his humiliating eagerness only amplified is discomfort. He did his best to maintain his dignity by keeping his knees together at the cost of painful pressure on his balls. His thinly veiled erection was poking up from between his thighs, curving back towards himself as it strained against its prison. It now stood 6 inches above the top of his thighs. Realising this, he sat up straight and arched his back in a futile attempt to hide it. His cock advertised a wanton desire to submit and debase himself. It felt like he didn't know who he was anymore.