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The Game free porn video
The Game
By Kyrie Hobson
Notes:
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters in
this story and any actual persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental. This story is copyright 2012 by Kyrie Hobson. Permission
is hereby given to share this story on the World Wide Web, provided that
(a) no charge of any kind, including, but not limited to, subscription
fees, is made in connection with access to the story, (b) the story is
reprinted in its entirety, including this notice, and (c) proper credit
is given to the author at the time of posting. All other rights,
including, but not limited to, those of adaptation to other media and
formats, reserved to the author. Contact: [email protected]
I am standing in my Box. Any minute now, the front panel will open and
the Game will begin. I have two hours to find the counter-agent to the
retrovirus I was given before I feel the first effects. I have four
hours before the treatment becomes irreversible. I know there are
nineteen others waiting for their Boxes to open and release them in
their hunt for the ten vials hidden, like Easter Eggs, across the field.
I call it a field but it's really a decommissioned Army base. One
hundred acres of woods and valleys, proving grounds and housing,
offices, hangars, and garages. Somewhere in all of that is my
salvation: a tiny little vial in a hypodermic pen, like the Eppy pens
allergics carry in case of bee sting. One shot in the next four hours
and I will grow up a man, with a man's duties and responsibilities.
This has been the way of things for the past five years.
The war started when I was only three. I didn't know, of course, how
could I? At that age, when you're still learning to speak in complete
sentences, the world is nothing beyond the people in your own house.
For me, that was my mother, my father, and my two sisters.
I learned later that the war was inevitable. America had sold its
industrial capacity overseas, and the once-proud Republic had been
reduced to a petty oligarchy, her corrupt politicians selling national
honor to the highest foreign bidder. As expected, the Republic of
Texas, composed of the old states of Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and New
Mexico, had been the first to rebel. Then the People's Democracy of
Pacifica left the national fold. Bit by bit, the country fractured,
until the Federal Government had become even more of a laughing stock
than before...a single city lodged in a southern Maryland swamp. The
capital of nothing.
The panel opens suddenly and I rush out. Is anyone near me? I stop for
just a moment to listen. Past competitors have been tied up by their
opponents early on, bound and unable to escape their fate. I decide
that I am alone, and look around to get my bearings. I'm lucky.
My Box was placed near the family housing. I know there will be food
and supplies in some of the single-family ranch homes, so I'll have a
well-supplied base, however the next four hours come out. I should
probably find a weapon of some sort--nothing deadly, just enough to
ensure my own safety.
With a plan of action in mind, I slip into the yard of the first house
to the right of my Box. It's an arbitrary decision: all of the houses
are identical and show no outward indication of what might be inside. I
look around me quickly to be sure I'm still alone and check the door.
It's locked.
To this day, no one knows who released the agent. There were labs
capable of developing it in most of the new countries, even the old CDC
labs in the New Confederacy. The effect was devastating. It was a
killer virus that targeted female humans. More accurately, it targeted
the "X" chromosome, but was balked by the twisted, hypercomplex "Y". In
women in halted cellular reproduction, leading to death in mere days as
ulceration and any number of minor daily mishaps dismantled their
unhealing bodies. On my fifth birthday, my father and I watch my
mother's remain taken away to be cremated with the others; my sisters
had gone the month before.
By the end of the year, there were no human women left on earth, and
there never would be again. Attempts to culture female fetuses using
sperm and egg-bank stocks resulted in fertilized eggs that just died,
never even attempting to divide. The virus was airborne, and while it
had no real effect on men, it could lie dormant in a man's system for
his entire life, awaiting its chance to murder womanhood.
I am on my fifth house, now. I don't know how long it's been. My chest
itches and aches, but I have to keep looking; I'm sure the full four
hours haven't passed.
The first house had a surprise gift for me, a shotgun loaded with
beanbag rounds: non-lethal, and very effective. It's heavy, and I lean
it against the kitchen counter as I riffle through the upper cabinets.
I find a box of granola and tear it open, stuffing handfuls of oats,
nuts, and honey into my face. I feel like I haven't eaten for days.
I collect my gun and head for the next house. No luck, yet. I dip my
shoulder and shove into the front door with all my might. I bounce off
as if I'd tried to shove open the wall itself. I shake my head in
confusion. I'd had no trouble with the other doors. I must be feeling
the effects. I have less than two hours and I've only been through five
houses.
I quickly tear apart the cabinets in the kitchen. Checking the fridge,
I grab the bottle of juice and guzzle the full quart. I feel hot and
feverish. My chest still itches and aches and now it feels strangely
heavy. My arms don't want to obey when I tell them to lift things or
pull other things open. Just opening the bottle was a struggle.
I do a quick search of all the rooms. I'm sure the vial is in the
kitchen, but it never hurts to check. Two small bedrooms for the
family's children, a bathroom...nothing, as expected. I push open the
master bedroom door, and there it is, sitting on the dresser. I rush to
it, hope welling in my heart.
It's empty, the thumb-tab depressed to its base.
It took a year for our best scientists to develop the retrovirus, and
another for a way to use it to be developed. True transgenders are an
infinitesimal percentage of the population, and we were trying to
recover from the loss of over half the people in the country. More to
the point, the retrovirus was only effective on boys just entering
puberty, before any real sperm production had begun. Part of its
effect, beyond a general feminizing of the boy, was to recode the
testicles, rendering them into de facto ovaries, making eggs instead of
sperm. That was the irreversible phase of the infection.
Once the testicles were altered, they would be harvested, and the boy,
now a girl in almost every way, would undergo surgery to provide her
with a working vagina and uterus. In vitro fertilization and
implantation would provide the children she would carry, and the
retrovirus, doing its work of convincing the pituitary gland that she
was female, would do the rest.
But who? Everyone agreed that even random selection was too easy to
corrupt. The rich and the powerful could always find ways to give their
sons the advantage in such a setting. So the Game was devised. Twenty
boys at the edge of maturity racing for ten vials of the counter-agent.
Other chemicals were added to the original serum that accelerated
maturity, and...well, no one really knew what else. By the end of the
day, where twenty boys had been, there would be ten young-adult couples,
ready to do their duty and preserve the species.
I have to think fast. How far is it to the next zone, where I might
find another vial? The whole field is only a hundred acres, but which
way should I go? The roads in residential areas are like mazes if your
aren't familiar with them, but rushing in a random direction seems
foolish. How long has it been? How much time do I have?
I collect my gun and the vial, and prepare to leave. I step into the
kitchen to throw the vial away. It really is a mess. I even left the
refrigerator open. I take a few moments to tidy up; I should have
plenty time to get another vial.
I slip out of the door and look around. Maybe there's another vial
nearby. Surely they'd change the field up a little bit, put two vials
close together instead of just placing one in each ten-acre zone.
Anyway, the other zones were dirty or ugly or out in the woods where
vermin and wild animals had been allowed to breed unfettered.
I decide to just continue as I had. The door to the next house is
unlocked, and that sets off an alarm in my mind. I had trouble getting
into all of the previous houses, even the one with the empty vial. The
empty vial that someone must have used. I suddenly realize that I am
not as alone as I had hoped.
I get my gun ready and use it to nudge the door slowly open. The living
room is cool and dark, but empty. I decide to continue with my plan,
and make my way into the kitchen. the cabinets are neatly shut, but
there is a card on one of the doors with a color picture and some
directions.
I should check the other rooms. I should go to one of the other zones.
How much time? How much TIME?
This shouldn't be so hard. I hope I have everything I need. I check
the refrigerator and the pantry, and of course I do. Preheat,
tenderize, season; it's easy. I put the roast in the oven, then get the
side dishes ready for cooking later. I set the table, but I still have
an hour left until the roast is done. Didn't I have something to do?
Wasn't I looking for something?
I look through the children's rooms, ready for boys, of course. A
daughter would be nice, but that's no longer possible. The main
bathroom is small, but immaculate. The master bedroom is likewise well-
kept. There's a picture on one of the pillows on the bed: a happy
woman in a pink dress and white apron, proudly presenting a perfectly-
cooked roast. I find the pink dress in the closet, hung neatly from a
hanger.
There's another picture on the master bathroom door. This time it is a
close-up of the ecstatic woman. Her face is perfectly made up, and her
hair, while boyishly short is arranged in such a feminine way, it
doesn't matter. I step into the bathroom, and follow the pictorial
clues that appear in the mirror.
I know by the smell that the roast is almost done, so I glide into the
kitchen to finish cooking the side dishes. I've just finished laying
out the sumptuous dinner when he walks in. Startled, I look around
for...something. A gun? Yes, I need to protect myself because he's
going to...but he's very handsome, and he walked in just as if he owned
the place, so he must.
He has dark hair and brown eyes, and he is tall and strong in that
smooth, yet virile way that men just entering their twenties tend to be.
He sits in the easy chair in the living room and I go to him, because
there's something I need to do, even though my roast is getting cold and
the green beans are getting soggy.
I kneel before him, compliant and worshipful. I reach up into his lap
and open his pants. Rising fully to my knees, I stretch across his
thighs and take him into my mouth, licking him, pleasuring him as I
must. He runs his fingers through my carefully arranged hair and I feel
him stiffen, beneath me, and within me. His love pours into me and I am
complete. I swallow his gift, and barely have time to put his manhood
away before I am asleep with my head laid in his lap.
I awaken in pain, or the ghost of pain. Something is different about
me; I feel a vague loss. A hand takes mine, and I turn to see my
husband, my love. He is smiling at me, and I smile back.
A doctor comes in, and bustles my husband out. "How do you feel?" he
asks me.
I can't answer. I feel a loss, but I feel whole. I can't explain, so I
shrug.
"You have to understand that this is all for your own good," he says.
"The first ones, they always thought of themselves as boys, and tried to
fight it. They all hurt themselves, or hurt their babies. We learned
to take care of that, but the hypnotics we used made them too
suggestible, too complaint." he sighs heavily, sorrowful about
something. "Your last act on the field bound you to your husband.
There was a fluid exchange between you, a sharing of chemicals. You
will still be his willing wife and lover, but you will not be
subservient as you were, as some of the others are.
"For his part, he loves you with all his heart and can't even conceive
of doing you harm. He'll provide for you--with government assistance, of
course--and your children, and you'll provide them with a loving, happy
home." He stepped to the door. "He's missed you. He's spent every day
sitting by your side, holding your hand."
As he ushered my husband in, he said, "I'll give you both your privacy."
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