Author's note: This story is my own take on a matriarchal future.
Hundreds of years in the future, genetic manipulation has changed humanity, giving women increasing control over society. As genetic advances continue to be developed, women gain more and more advantages.
Cultural norms continue to shift as men and women become more different from one another. Women are now called 'femme', and are now taller and outnumber men significantly, allowing them to dominate the political and corporate landscape. Femme are no longer sexually objectified, instead it's men who wear sexy outfits that show off the lean idealised masculine form while femme wear dignified, modest dresses.
As a result of genetic augmentation, femme (women) have a greatly enhanced sex drive and are able to experience much more sexual pleasure. This affect only increases as they age. It's common for wealthy old ladies to frequent strip clubs with young male dancers.
A matriarchal religion is taking over the world and gaining control over global governance, further cementing the reign of femme and driving cultural change.
This story does not contain sissification. I like my men masculine. It does contain a lot of older woman / younger man, CFNM and religious themes.
All feedback is greatly appreciated.
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The taxi found its way off the motorway and the only sound in the cabin was the soft hum of the electric engine. It directed itself into wealthy suburbia with a ghostly turn of the steering wheel.
Charlotte held Dean closer as he watched mansions and perfectly manicured lawns fly past his window. He was nervous to be visiting her house for the first time. It was rare that his mother would be away on a business trip so he wanted to take advantage of his window of freedom.
A hand on the inside of his thigh conveyed her desire. He reciprocated with an affectionate kiss on her brown lips. Dean was a runner so he didn't have the well-defined arm muscles of a gymnast or the sculpted legs of a powerlifter. He was sure many of the boys at college were much more handsome and couldn't believe that a popular femme like Charlotte would be interested in an ordinary boy like him.
He pulled away to look up into her confident feminine eyes; they were the darkest brown that he had ever seen. She was always up to speed with the latest trends and proudly refused to wear makeup. He glanced down to see the bottom of her black stiletto heels poking out the hem of her dark blue dress like knives. Her long sleeves and high neckline conveyed dignity and power. She only wore outfits from the most celebrated designers like Chloe Goldfemme or Kim Gynostone.
Dean never left the house without some soft foundation because he knew how fickle wealthy femme like Charlotte could be when it came to the slightest male imperfection. His hotpants were from Chloe Goldfemme's new range for boys. He had seen them while window shopping and was shocked to find such a prestigious brand in his price range. Such a name would surely impress Charlotte on their first date. In hindsight he regretted not trying them on first. He had naively picked up his normal size, resulting in a much tighter fit than he intended. The thin elastic material was designed to cling to every contour of his masculine assets with no thought for comfort. The first time that he put them on, they were almost painfully tight. He would have preferred Chloe Goldfemme's range of modest boy-wear but they were much too expensive for him to afford. Dressing with dignity and comfort while still keeping up with the latest fashion was an expensive prospect for a boy.
Charlotte looked over at him with a hunger in her eyes, then pulled him close for more. His hotpants were made of firm elastic, with the exception of a strong g-string support structure. As he shifted, the unrelenting g-string felt like steel wire as it rode further up his butt and the opening of the genital pouch wrapped tightly around his cock and balls, chafing painfully whenever hr moved. He forced the discomfort from his mind and focused on Charlotte.
Dean had no experience with sex, everything he knew was from online magazines for boys. Some publications recommended that he learn from pornography but he couldn't stand watching it. All of the naked young males were a real turn off for him, and the way they would be treated by the femme acting opposite made him feel dirty. Most of the femme acting in pornography were much older and relatively unattractive when compared to the male actors, but it was clear that he wasn't the target audience. He read one article that recommended he move his tongue rapidly across a femme's lip. Apparently, it would remind her of cunnilingus; something that all femme expected to receive prior to intercourse.
Heeding the advice, he flicked his tongue across her lower lip. Fear struck him; he was unsure if he had done the right thing. He felt a rush of relief when Charlotte responded with a moan of arousal. It worked.
The car slowed to a stop. The top floor of her contemporary mansion peaked over the tall brick fence with an iron gate.
"You have reached your destination, crescent drive Beverly Hills. I'm looking forward to your next ride," the young male voice spoke in an affectionate, almost sensual tone.
Charlotte immediately gave Dean an impatient shove out the door and he got out with compliant haste. He popped the trunk, picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, then did the same with her handbag on the other side.
Dean could scarcely believe that he was being taken home by the most popular girl in school. As president of the college student association, Charlotte Femworth was a household name to the parents and families of the school. Most students would watch her official weekly roundups of campus activities, interspersed with entertaining anecdotes and memes. It wasn't really the kind of thing that Dean would watch but he admired the hard work that she put into the show.
Last year, one of Dean's friends from the track team won the national titles, so he watched her show just to see the coverage. Charlotte spent the first half of the show celebrating the widening gap between the grades of femme and males, claiming that femme were naturally superior and that it was just a sign of reduced misogyny. Finally, the champion got a mention in the last segment. He was the featured 'stud of the week' with a picture of him standing shirtless in his track shorts.
Dean felt torn. He couldn't stand her videos and hadn't watched them for almost a year. But in person she was caring, compassionate and attentive. He was convinced that the Charlotte who appeared in the videos was just a persona, a character that she would play to get the most views she could from a mostly femme student body. The real Charlotte was the one that only he was privileged to know.
His hotpants were really starting to hurt by now. He needed to adjust them once he had some privacy. With her gentle but confident hand on his butt, now was definitely not the time. Once they arrived at the gate she put her hand on the scanner. With two sharp beeps, the gate began to silently swing open.
"Good afternoon Miss Femworth," a synthesized feminine voice spoke up. This voice was the confident and trustworthy sound of an elderly lady.
The long driveway guided them to a two-story mansion. The garden looked like it had been kept professionally, with a water feature making a roundabout at the top of the driveway.
Charlotte took his hand reassuringly and Dean breathed deeply in response. He saw her taking a long glance at his genital bulge, hoping that he wouldn't notice. For a moment he considered that perhaps the pain was worth it; that maybe he looked passable in his new outfit.
Dean gazed down at his white fingers locked between her dark brown skin. He looked up into her eyes again because she was more than a head taller than him in her heels. It was common for the femme to be a taller than her boy and many femme liked to reinforce that with a pair of heels. She was endowed with generous curves and a wide waistline. Her large breasts were well covered but still boasted feminine power. Dean trained daily to stay lean and athletic, but she was blessed with a natural size which enabled her to overpower him if she wanted, despite her relatively sedentary lifestyle.
Charlotte led him through the heavy wooden doors with "Femworth" written on the front. These family names had always made Dean curious. He knew that it wasn't a traditional name, but one that had been established within the last hundred years or so. Over the last few decades, it had become quite popular to depart from tradition and change one's family name to reflect a more pro-femme political inclination. He didn't understand the practice himself.
"Peter we're home! Get us those snacks now," she called out coldly.
It didn't surprise Dean that someone with such an opulent lifestyle would have a butler.
"Yes Ma'am," the voice in the distance was somewhat younger than Dean expected.
Charlotte continued to treat Dean to the grand tour of the dinning and leisure rooms of the estate. In one of the hallways, he noticed a picture of a mature lady who bore resemblance to Charlotte. She stood across from president Katherine Queen and held one palm up as if taking an oath and wore an ornate, long black dress with a white wig.
