It's 2028.
She is sadly presiding over the installation of barbed wire fences around The Farm, as her acolytes call it. The repeated and escalating threats make the fence necessary. In parallel with this surrender to reality her thoughts turn to Jad. Is he a dream or just her dreamed of lover? He is always at the back of her mind, even when he isn't literally at her back rubbing against her with his big fat cock. She pulled her mind back to the mundane. If she let her thoughts linger she could almost feel his kisses, always a bit voracious, on her neck, his sucking almost bites. The Virtual Reality software still not spot on (so to speak) with the sensory simulations, although they're getting real close. Back to business...
Even in town they are starting to call it 'The Farm' as if it were the only one around. But it's not just for the abundant produce, integrated water treatment and mini grid that the townies raise eyebrows when mentioning the 25 acre establishment that currently houses and feeds about 24 residents. At a headland on the south coast of eastern Australia, it is remote enough from the major cities to be a bit independent of the pressures to comply with ever tighter regulations around social and sexual interaction.
Rather it's the whispers of orgies and nude dancing with bonfires by the swimming hole, the invitation only weekend couples parties. Recently the rumors have included pointing out the several athletic and incredibly gorgeous teenage girls from The Farm as they stride confidently and sensuously through town. And the way the young men in town turn their heads in lustful admiration. No complaints have been registered.
Such whispers were the least of her concerns. One thing she was meticulous about was ensuring that no one under the age of 19 had intercourse at The Farm. Petting was sometimes tolerated, but with surveillance. But then almost everything except the hygiene blocks was under surveillance.
This enforcement was partly to avoid legal problems. The bonking police, as they were widely lampooned, were equally meticulous about prosecuting anyone having sex, or aiding and abetting sex, when either participant was less than a solid 18 years of age. Endorsed digital birth certificate required.
Violating that law could put her in prison. No thanks.
There was another more fundamental reason that she was happy to comply with these rules. Her first lover, the guitar playing, astrologist, macrobiotic, weed smoking Bakunin reading, anti Vietnam protester...it had been so gentle, so slow. She was 19 and in second year uni when they became lovers. He'd been bringing her to climax for a while, so she was well and truly ready for it. She'd always been grateful for that introduction to the world of sex. A man so patient that he made sure her pleasure would set her up to welcome him into her most inner precincts.
This sweet encounter had set the scene for the rest of her very active sexual life and indeed for her philosophy. Consensual, adult, no coercion...Free non-possessive love, in a hippie imagined permaculture heaven. That was pretty much what The Farm was and stood for, rather successfully so far, if she did say so herself.
"External forces always influence the local fractals" is one of her popular sayings. In recent years the world has made a not so subtle shift away from now old libertarian ideals. It has happened in tandem with the escalation of the climate crisis, a concatenation of negativities. Along with the military spending. Public amenity was contracting in ways that were not conducive to ushering in the age of the philosopher king. Or queen.
The Farm currently sits apart from these winds of change, but the fences will be an unwelcome shift towards greater insularity.
Other rumors among the townsfolk are more fanciful, and therefore easier to dismiss. There have been recent reports of dusk flights out over the beach. One of her girls has been sighted riding a fancy new seaplane/drone vehicle heading out beyond the 1 km safe zone. They say she holds a spear gun, but no one has recorded this. She flies about 1000 m up.
Of course that would be illegal, no more public fishing off the beach. Ah, the days when a fisher might reach into the bucket and pull out a decent size bream as a friendly gift. The Combocruise drone hybrids solve the problem of reaching the few remaining accessible fish, but ignore the licensing and permission issues. Quite ordinary fish like bream are now as scarce and dear as lobsters. The Farm hangs on to this luxury item only by these evening forays, not always successful.
She's aware of these reports and rumors. The sex stories about parties with adults aren't a problem, as the government bonking ban is currently only enforcing underage sex. The non-binary groups were next in their sights. But adults getting together for fun is not a problem. So far.
"Ridiculous world" she thinks with a shudder of anger, rapidly followed by a smile, an intrusive but happy memory of Jad taking her in the middle of the night, a hard awakening or rather he was hard, she was soft, and they rocked and moaned until he too went softer and sleep followed. She loves the way he stays inside her until one of them has to roll over and he flops out.
It is very clear to her, on Jad's very firm counsel, that she must keep the drone rides undocumented. With so much drone traffic now, some of them quite large, she doesn't think there is much likelihood of arrest or prosecution. The fish illegal or not are essential to maintain The Farm's protein. Only with the right nutritional balance, along with the highest synthetic biology standards, can the nanobots in the girls' guts and vaginas sustain their physical and psychological prowess.
After five years of experimentation only the girls' slight tendency towards high sex drive needs fine tuning. Kara, the implicit leader of the girlie gang, is a bit too inclined to seek more rapacious sexual encounters. Jad says that could be eliminated by adjusting her macrophages. Or at least minimized. After all, the idea of the enhanced females is to set them on the path of enacting the very principles which The Farm was contracted to put into social practice.
She is quite proud of being part of the efforts to reshape humanity into the Dionysian yet gentle creatures that now seemed to be thriving in her modest but successful Garden of Eden. She is also proud that some of the genes used in the girls come from her own DNA. Her intelligence, long history of active sexuality along with her inherently non-violent nature were found to be a reasonable match for breeding a sample set of female influencers: smart, driven to enjoy sex, and no nasty tendencies towards criminality to pollute the mix. The ultimate gene drive. As they are approaching 23, the minimal age for reproduction, it's going to get interesting real soon.
