Advanced Fertility Program

Bradley Jones had the smile of a young man who knew he was about to get sex, and lots of it.

As he strutted out of the dining room, Ahmad and his mother stared sheepishly after the bully until he was gone.

"Mom, what are we going to do?" Ahmad dropped to his knees and threw his arms around her waist. He tried to stop himself from crying, but his tears flowed like the Jordan River. He buried his face into her lap, muffling his sobs. When he felt her fingers combing through his hair, he groaned.

"Stand up, Ahmad," she said. "I do not want Bradley to see you like this."

Ahmad didn't move. He couldn't. If he clung to his mother will all his might, there was no way his bully could steal her away. At least that was what his desperate logic told him.

"Where is your pride, Ahmad Yousef? Are you not your father's son?"

Ahmad nodded into his mother's lap, enjoying the warmth of her thighs on his face. He was his father's son, and this was no time for weakness. It was difficult, but he found the strength to rise, leaving the safety of her embrace. He began wiping his tears away, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Do not be sorry. You are a kind boy with a pure heart, and I am proud of you."

Ahmad lowered himself into his father's chair. His cock cage knocked against the seat, which was still warm from Bradley sitting there. "Can't we just tell him no?" he whispered. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Sadiya shook her head. "I read about this on the internet. The punishments for disobeying the fertility contract are steep. The denial of someone's reproductive rights comes with a high price tag. If Bradley learned this, he could sue us for damages. He would likely take everything we owned."

Ahmad looked around at the beautiful dining room, admiring the high walls and expensive furniture. His father had toiled for decades to purchase a two-story house in a safe, affluent neighborhood. And it wasn't his effort alone. Ahmad's grandfather had traveled to the United States during the Levantine civil war with nothing more than a suitcase of clothes and a wallet stuffed with inflated money. The house in which Ahmad and his mother dwelled represented everything his family had sacrificed for.

Yet if he resisted Bradley's desires, the immature high school bully could steal everything he owned with the stroke of the government's pen.

And what would become of his mother?

Her life would likely return to what it was like before expatriating from the Confederacy of the Levant. She was a kindhearted, educated, intelligent woman, but she had few marketable skills to speak of. Universal Basic Income should sustain them, but the American deficit had ballooned over the past few years due to the population decline, forcing the government to cut down on social programs.

To pay for his education, his mother would be forced to work as one of the faceless housemaids of some affluent Caucasian NDNC member. The sort of haughty white billionaire who preferred the novelty of human help over the impersonal presence of cleaning bots.

He could just picture her, crawling around on her hands and knees as she meticulously scrubbed the vast, endless floors of some rich asshole's mansion, wagging her large ass for whichever important guests happened to pass by. It was in vogue among certain NDNC members to hire 'people of color' as the help. They viewed it as a charity for the disenfranchised laborers who could not find employment after the advent of widespread automation. Now hiring underpaid workers was accepted among the elites as a virtuous and politically correct thing to do.

"I'll fight him, if that's what it takes to save you," declared Ahmad. "I'll kill him if I have to."

Nostrils flaring, Sadiya slapped Ahmad across the face. "Don't be ridiculous! How dare you utter such nonsense in front of your mother!"

"You hit me," whimpered Ahmad, cradling his stinging face. His mother never resorted to corporal punishment, and now his ears were ringing. "You actually hit me."

"Oh, Ahmad! You have such a bright future ahead of you. I won't have you spoil it on my account. Don't you realize how gifted you are? You can be anything you want in this world. You must not worry about me. Within a year you will go away to college. It will be your chance to start anew. I am confident you will find a girl who makes you happy, just as I made your father."

Ahmad stared at his mother's hips. His eyes wandered over those massive teardrop breasts that strained the fabric of her black robe. Her large nipples were hard.

I don't want just any girl,

he thought, hungering for her body. Of course, he couldn't tell her that.

"We have survived worse hardships than this," she said, starting to choke up, "when your father--"

"I know, Mom. You don't have to say it."

"No matter what happens between me and that brute, I want you to remember... I will always love you."

"I'll always love you, too. More than anything."

Ahmad wrapped his arms around his mother and gave her a powerful hug. She was soft and inviting, and he yearned to enter her warmth, to become one with her. Her hot cheek pressed against his neck, making his cock throb in its cage. Oh, how his balls hurt! He wanted so badly to be free. It was all he needed. What both of them needed.

Moving lower, he brought his face near to hers. There was a gleam in her eye that he had not seen before. A sort of lusty tenderness as she stared upon her son. Her dark eyelashes batted. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Ahmad swallowed.

Is it possible she feels the same way I do?

They embraced one another, staring into each other's eyes. Ahmad loved her. He loved her so much it hurt. He leaned a little closer, and so did she. Just as their lips were about to touch, a shout came from the living room.

"Sadiya, where ARE you?"

"I must go," said his mother, pulling away. "Go to your room, Ahmad. No, perhaps it is best if you leave the house. Whatever you decide, promise me you won't come into the living room."

"Mom, wait a second, please!" Sadiya remained seated, and Ahmad felt a thrill, for it was not normal for him to give commands, nor for his mother to obey them. His cock filled its cage as he leaned close. He wanted to kiss her. A single kiss was not asking too much. If he could have this one boon, he would cherish it for the rest of his life. A beautiful, lifelong memory that not even Bradley could take away from him.

He came so close to his mother that he felt her breath on his face. She did not move. She wasn't resisting. He lowered a trembling hand on her thick, soft, warm thigh, squeezing her, feeling her body at last. Ya Allah, how he had wanted to touch her! He had been so scared to confess his feelings, but this kiss would make things clear. His lips grazed his mother's lips, and he felt her shiver. He opened his mouth slightly. She did the same. Only a few short centimeters separated him from her mouth, her tongue. From everything he had wanted for so, so long.

"WHERE'S MY WOMAN!" shouted Bradley from the living room.

Sadiya stood up abruptly, almost knocking Ahmad over. "I-I'm coming, Mr. Jones!"

Ahmad's lips were still upturned, as if kissing the air, while his mother hurried into the living room. He watched her hips shake as she went, ass bouncing.

All that he wanted... that he desired... was heading straight to Bradley Jones.

He rested his forehead on the dinner table, heartbroken. A painful image filled his mind: his bully, one of the worst smears of scum to walk the earth, was climbing atop his precious mother, mounting her like a steed. He was shoving his huge pink cock in and out of her voluptuous dark body, slapping her ass, degrading her. He couldn't believe such a nightmare was about to become reality. Where had the fight in her gone? Her pride? She had seemed so ready to resist him, at first.

"Things aren't supposed to be this way," he whispered to himself.

He considered leaving the house as his mother instructed. But he couldn't run from what was about to happen. It simply wasn't an option in his befuddled mind. His cock still throbbed painfully, as if ready to burst. Maybe his horniness was clouding his judgment. He didn't care. He needed to see what his mother and his bully were up to. Even if it destroyed him.

He crept to the door to the living room. It was slightly ajar, and he peered through the crack.

And found Bradley completely nude, sitting on their expensive fabric couch with his arms and legs outstretched, as if he owned the place. Ahmad's mother was seated beside him, still in her Islamic robe, legs crossed, hands folded over her knee. She looked so neat and mature compared to the slovenly white teenager. Her fleshy curves made a striking contrast to Bradley's muscular frame.

Ahmad gawked at the erection Bradley sported. It was abnormally long and thick, and bobbed freely in the air, as if taunting him. Even his balls looked comfortable, hanging low between his legs. The sight was almost enough to make Ahmad question his faith. How could God bless a boy like Bradley with such a large and unrestrained cock, while his little nub remained encased in steel?

"Can't we go to the bedroom?" asked Sadiya softly.

"I don't see any reason we can't start here," Bradley said. "If it makes you happy, we can move to the bedroom after the first round."

She batted her eyelashes. "First round?"

Bradley snorted with crude laughter. "Don't tell me your limp-dick husband couldn't go more than once. With a body like this?" He slipped his hand between Sadiya and the cushion, grabbing a handful of her huge asscheek. "By the time I get you pregnant, I'm going to have fucked you over every inch of this house."

Sadiya looked away, and Ahmad almost jumped, fearing she caught him peeking. But she hadn't seen him after all. She sat there uncomfortably with Bradley's hand digging into her flesh. "I wish you would not use such language," she said.

Bradley brought his face close to hers. "I can keep my mouth clean if you show me what you're hiding under that head towel.

"It is called a

hijab,

" she corrected him, "and it is sinful to show my hair to men outside of my family."

"I told you I don't give a shit about your stupid religion." Bradley grabbed her hand and forced it against the shaft of his cock. "Neither does my dick."

Sadiya gasped, and Ahmad nearly threw the door open to save her. But when his mother did not remove her hand from his bully's erect manhood, the courage seemed to drain out of him.

"Please allow me to wear my hijab." She made a fist around his cock, as if to convince him. "It's too embarrassing to remove it."

Bradley chuckled. "I guess you can leave it on. It's kind of exotic, like I'm the king of the desert people and you're one of my servants. Don't you still have kings, back in the middle east? Stroke me while you answer. Remember, woman, your role in life is to pleasure me now."

Ahmad lowered a hand to his chastity cage, clutching his aching cock. Surely his mother had enough sense as to not indulge in the bully's sick fantasies!

To his horror, his mother began stroking the bully's long shaft. Her fingers moved carefully, as if exploring a cock for the first time. Those sensual hands looked small and girly compared to the girth of Bradley's oversized schlong. They weren't the hands of a sophisticated woman at all. Her fingers began to test his hardness, squeezing, poking, teasing...

Bradley groaned with pleasure.

It should have been you,

screamed a voice in Ahmad's head.

"We had kings and Sultans in ages past, but no more," explained Sadiya, stroking Bradley's cock one inch at a time. "It is true that a few kings remain in the Gulf region, but they are honorary positions. Times have changed since the modern era, and even those nations are now democracies."

"Democracy, huh? That's nice." It was clear Bradley didn't care about Sadiya's little history lesson. There was one word that caught his attention, however. "Wait, did you say Sultans? I like the sound of that. I guess that's kind of what I am, right?" He spread his legs wider, draping one across Sadiya's thighs. "Wow, a Sultan."

Sadiya stared with distaste at the muscular hairy thigh on her lap. She stroked Bradley's cock a little faster, as if channeling her frustrations with the boy. "I don't see how you could possibly think of yourself as--as a Sultan of all things!"

"Didn't Sultans have lots of women to fuck?"

"Well yes, that was called a royal harem. I suppose that is one small part of being a Sultan."

"Then it's settled. You're the first woman in my harem." Bradley gave her a cocky grin. "Yep, I'm just like a Sultan."

Ahmad breathed through his nose, trying not to make any noise. He slipped a hand under the waist of his trousers, massaging around the cruel device of the U.S. government that kept him trapped in unbreakable chastity. He tried to tug his cock up and down and to fondle his little balls, if just to eke out a little pleasure. But the steel prison made it impossible.

He stared longingly at the two of them, hot with jealousy. The bastard sat there for several agonizing minutes, enjoying the ministrations of his mother's agile fingers. It was possible, he hoped, that Bradley was too anxious to have sex. It was his first time after all. Ahmad had always been nervous at the prospect of being chosen for the Advanced Fertility Program and having to show up at some strange woman's home, ready and willing to perform for her. He had been locked in chastity for months at a time and knew it would not take much to bring him to orgasm. The same should be true of Bradley. As tough as he acted, he was still a virgin, too.

Then Bradley lowered his leg and reached beneath Sadiya's

abaya,

inching the hem up her dark thighs. Ahmad's mother did not move away. Rather, her legs spread slightly and her hands remained on Bradley's cock. His mother and his bully resembled a pair of naive young lovers, exploring each other's bodies for the first time. Bradley's eyes widened at the sight of her bare flesh. He licked his lips. "You look delicious."

"Please refrain from saying such things to me," Sadiya said evenly. "I am doing my duty and nothing more."

"You're going to hear me say a lot worse."

"I would rather you said nothing at all."

"Did your husband ever tell you you have dick sucking lips?"

Sadiya's mouth twitched. "No. I never did such sinful things with him."

"You never sucked the man's cock?" Bradley pushed two fingers between Sadiya's bee-stung lips. She yelped in surprise but did not remove them. Instead she squeezed her pretty mouth around his meaty fingers, glaring at the rebellious teenager who was so easily taking control of her life. He began to pump in and out of her mouth. "He must have been a real beta male to not want to fuck your skull every night."

"He was a good man," Sadiya said around Bradley's fingers, giving his shaft a few deep pumps. "And an honorable Muslim. I loved him."

"Don't fucking lie. I bet you only married that old fart for a green card."

Sadiya spat out his fingers. "You are a wicked, evil, corrupt young man! You brute! You

kafir

!"

Bradley laughed in response. Ahmad noticed that with every insult, his mother stroked the boy's cock even harder. She propped her head against his muscular shoulder as she stroked away, her other hand gripping the inside of his thigh.

Bradley's expression was pure bliss. If there was a heaven on Earth, he had found it.

Ahmad could not stand to watch another moment. He pulled away from the crack in the door, mind racing. He remembered the

istishhad

of Islamic history, the brave warriors who laid down their lives for honor and glory. Those men were deemed martyrs in the eyes of God and were promised beautiful virgins in Jannah, the eternal paradise beyond the earthly realm.

He was not as religious as his mother, but thinking about his ancestors stirred up the courage he desperately needed. He went to the kitchen and began rummaging through the drawers, finding the sharpest cooking knife. Remembering the sting of her palm, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before returning the knife to its drawer.

His mother was right. It was stupid to resort to violence. There was no guarantee that he would be successful, and the consequences would be disastrous either way.

Stomping back into the dining room, he thought he heard giggling from behind the living room door. It sounded like his mother's tittering laughter. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. There was no way his mother was getting along with his bully!

Pacing back and forth, he spotted a white rectangle on the floor. A sheet of paper. He knelt to retrieve it. It was the letter from the federal government to Bradley Jones. The Advanced Fertility Contract.

Congratulations. We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the U.S. Repopulation Bureau's advanced fertility program...

He brought the paper to his face, squinting. The font was tiny and the letter was longer than he thought. How typical of the government's tree preservation efforts! The single sheet was crammed full of rules and clauses and legal jargon. He skimmed through them quickly, then froze.

Reading one clause in particular several times, his jaw dropped.

When Ahmad stepped into the living room, his mother was squatting over Bradley's lap with her bare feet on the couch cushions. Her hands were on his shoulders for balance and her back was arched. Her abaya was hoisted up sloppily, and the excess fabric was slung across one of her shoulders, exposing her thick thighs. Her ass was smooth and shiny and delectably plump, with only a few faint stretch marks. It was clear that despite being single for years his mother had kept up with grooming practices; her bush was neatly trimmed and her legs were hairless.

Then Ahmad saw the tip of Bradley's cock at the entrance to his mother's pussy. The fleshy white battering ram stood upright, already poking at the entrance to her tender gate.

"You're too big," said Sadiya huskily, turning her hips in a slow circle, churning the tip of Bradley's cockhead inside her.

"Don't blame me," said Bradley. "You've got to be tighter than a virgin. How long has it been since you last fucked?"

"It has been years..."

Bradley spanked her ass so hard that she screamed. "Good thing we have lots of practice ahead of us." Then he dug his huge hands into the fat of her hips, forcing her downward. Sadiya's muscles rippled and tightened, resisting his pull.

"Slower, I beg you!" she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Ya Allah, ya Allah."

"It must have been hard for you," grunted Bradley, raising his hips, prodding at Sadiya's flowery entrance with his swollen tip, eager to be inside her, "not having a man of the house for so long. No one to take care of your body." He pulled Sadiya's mouth close for a kiss, and she turned away. He ran his tongue up her cheek instead. "No one to take care of your needs."

"You are wrong," grunted Sadiya. "Such sinful thoughts have never crossed my mind. I am... a good woman...I keep the faith..."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, slut," he growled into her neck. "Say your prayers, 'cause I'm about to fuck your brains out."

Ahmad watched all of this in a stupor. The sight of his mother squatting over his bully dizzied him. His chastity cage tightened so much that it felt like it might break his skin. Suddenly his cock began to ache in a way it never had before. He was approaching orgasm, he realized with a dry gasp, and he wasn't even touching his cock! The sight of his mother, of all her beauty on display, squatting over another man...it should not have turned him on, but he had never seen her behaving so erotically. It was beyond arousing, beyond sinful...