Future Imperfect Ch 01

Staring out of the balcony window, in the apartment that he'd lived in for the last five years, Steven felt like he was in a universe designed by David Byrne.

'And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house".

And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife".'

He considered it an accurate assessment, especially as, having been off in his own mind Steven was brought back to reality by the touch of a woman he barely recognised yet, she was without a doubt one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. And for the last few days, he'd been relentlessly fucking her. Even now, as their parting was near, she remained completely naked and keen to continue their tryst.

Walking silently up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his six-foot-two frame, he could feel her breasts against his back, her hands rubbing across his body in apparent desire. Yet it had only been an hour since he'd filled her with his sed, since she'd come hard on his cock. Even before he found himself in David Byrne's universe, he'd been quite happy with his cock size, a good six inches but thick, yet he somehow now found himself incredibly desired, even by stunning women like Madeline, whose hourglass body and stunning features would once have caused men to flock at her feet just to be around her. Yet now...

"I missed you, Stevie..." God, even her voice was beginning to annoy him, yet her sultry European accent would have once sent shivers through his cock. "I woke up to find you were not next to me... Is everything okay?"

Looking out before him, Steven ignored her, instead opening up the balcony doors and stepping out. Not being a complete cad, he offered a hand for Madeline to follow him through, which she accepted. They stood there, exposed and bare, yet completely unconcerned, the weather warm and the slight breeze welcoming rather than cold, even if it meant he could still feel the fluid on his cock, a mixture of his own cum and Madeline's juices, begin to dry and harden.

"I just wanted to enjoy the view."

"Am I not enough?" The beauty before Steven pouted, moving to stand before Steven so she could 'subtly' show off her curves, yet really all she did was expose more of the cum now drying against her thighs.

"You are, without a doubt," Steven admitted, "one of the most beautiful women in the world. But a man cannot survive off one meal for all of his life. Sometimes you need to expand your diet having gorged on a single item."

Her eyes flashing, she began to press herself against Steven once more. "Oh, I'd love to be filled one more time by your meal."

Wincing at the terrible line, Steven did nothing to stop her as she slipped to her knees and placed his limp cock within her enhanced lips. It didn't take too long before he was hard, yet she easily took his whole length without gagging, yet despite his cock's physical display of excitement, mentally he remained quite uninterested.

Completely unaware of his mood, Madeline, finally coming up for air with a sly wink, whispered;

"You've been filling me this whole time, what say, for our encore, I do all of the work?"

Without waiting for an answer, she returned to her previous actions with greater vigour, yet despite the physical pleasure, Steven still rolled his eyes at the show. It wasn't that the offer wasn't appreciated, just that in this situation it had been pretty much inevitable. Each of the women he fucked acted if as if the act was completely and wholly original, yet if he was honest this was exactly how roughly ninety-five percent of his 'encounters' ended.

After about ten minutes of work, Steven began to feel his balls tighten as Madeline was wanking him off while licking delicately on his engorged head. Without giving any warning, already having his hand on the back of her head, he forced his cock into her mouth and began thrusting deep into her mouth. To her part, Madeline opened her mouth wider, grunting happily as his cock began to pulse, sperm spurting heavily down Madeline's throat.

"Fuck." Steven groaned, more for her sake than his. Yes, it felt good, but he never wanted anyone to go away feeling like he wasn't interested, even when, sometimes, he wasn't.

Finally letting go of her head, Steven removed his cock and Madeline stood up licking her lips. It was obvious this wasn't her first rodeo, as not a drop was wasted.

"Hmmm... that tastes good..." Really, it was like every single woman came with pre-recorded quotes and, despite the endorphins racing through him, he was quite done.

"Ms. Cain," came a quiet voice behind both of them, startling Madeline but expected by Steven, "I'm afraid that's all the time we have for now. Do you need a hand packing your stuff away?"

The voice emanated from Stephanie, Steven's assistant and bodyguard. She was only ever a room away, even when he was relentlessly fucking beautiful women, but one of the reasons she was so good at her job is that she knew how to anticipate Steven's moods.

"Oh," Madeline spoke in surprise, "yes, that would be appreciated, thank you." Turning to Steven, ignoring Stephanie and the maids who now entered the apartment, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "You were wonderful Stephen. I truly hope we were successful." With that, completely oblivious to her nudity despite the influx of people destroying any privacy, she walked into the bedroom with a wiggle, not that Steven was looking.

In fact, as this went on behind him Steven was leaning over the balcony staring at the sea. As Stephanie appeared next to him with a glass of coke, he accepted it gratefully and downed it quickly.

"Thank you." Another full glass appeared to appease his thirst, yet this one he savoured, ignoring everything going on behind him as Stephanie began to run down the itinerary.

"Okay, you've got a bit of a rest for the moment, your next client won't be here until tomorrow. You'll be interested to hear she's a member of the interim government."

"So likely not a 'model' like our dear friend then?" Steven interrupted.

"Likely not," Stephanie smiled.

"Thank fuck for that." Steven exhaled. "If I see any more plastic, I'll turn into a goddamn Ken doll, and having no cock wouldn't do anyone any favours would it?"

"Absolutely not," Stephanie continued with her list, "so that means tonight they've got you set up for some photo ops, obviously only in the local area due to time constraints, and that includes an interview."

"Please say it's not that Grace bitch interviewing me," he spoke gruffly, "especially after last time as she pawed all over me. I recognise what my job is, but I'm a prostitute, not a whore."

With a frown, Stephanie placed her clipboard on the side. She'd not seen Steven like this before.

"You're not exactly a prostitute Steven," she chided him, "you don't do this for money, you do this for the continuation of our species."

Letting out a cackle, he gestured wildly at where his most recent guest had been.

"And I assume Ms. Cain there with her enhanced breasts and copious plastic surgery is just a 'normal citizen' is she? And so is Ms. Interim Government? I'm sure they're definitely hear to 'continue the species' rather than just have a good time," he mocked, "I'm sure no money has changed hands at all, they just happen to be lucky enough to be chosen to receive the seed at its source, rather than relying on a sexless turkey baster like everyone else?"

Going red, Stephanie didn't really have an answer. "You know we don't have a choice with who we're given," she looked hurt as she spoke, "we can make requests, but it depends on who passes the screenings, and the decisions are generally made higher up the pole."

Sighing, Steven realised he'd taken his frustration out on the one person he trusted. "I know that, and I'm sorry Stephanie. It's not your fault and you're a wonderful fluffer, I know that." Grinning at their inside joke, it had originated from a case of mistaken identity when they first met about two years ago. "It's just, when this all began it was about equality in a time of struggles, but it appears that we're returning to the same old status quo that benefits the rich and powerful, and it sickens me."

"I know Steven. And I'm sorry, but for now, can we return to the list while we consider how to overthrow the government?"

With a smile, Steven nodded and let all of the bureaucracy wash over him as he considered how it all got to this point...

He'd been one of the lucky ones he knew, when the pandemic had ripped through the population, he'd pretty much been the last man standing. Literally. Out of a population of sixty-five million people within the United Kingdom, only fifty men survived, yet the female population remained untouched, leaving roughly thirty-two million women to deal with the fallout. It was a familiar story across the world, with smaller populations like Qatar and the Netherlands in an even worse plight, with only one or two men surviving, again with every single woman completely untouched. India and China did comparatively better, what with their larger populations, with as many as a couple of hundred men each remaining.

Quickly, despite the complete devastation of the world's economy, and in some areas the decimation of their political systems due to having been male-dominated, the vast majority of countries came to the consensus that they needed to work together. The standard cries of 'biological attack' and any attempt to blame a particular region, religion or ethnic group were quickly shot down as, generally, the vast majority of countries were able to pull together as they recognised that, without men, there was an opportunity to restart civilisation to the benefit of everyone. Countries pulled their resources to enact a clean-up of the devastation left by the sudden death of half the world's population, as well as pooling all their scientists to find solutions to safely keep humanity thriving.

The remaining men were also pooled together, a few thousand in total, with only a few countries refusing to 'share' their male resources, although many of these soon found they lost access to many parts of the new economies, as well as any clean-up funds, so quickly changed their minds. For genetic safety in case of a further re-occurrence of the virus, all men gave multiple sperm samples for use in research, and when it became viable, artificial insemination. For genetic diversity, men were then dispersed to different parts of the world.

This was not without issue, as many men baulked about being torn from what their homeland, with many never before having left their own states or provinces never mind their countries, but eventually an agreement was made where the process became voluntary. This still mean that the vast majority of men travelled thousands of miles away to countries where, at least at the beginning, they were used practically as breeding studs. There was little to no passion, no romance, just the utilitarian use of their bodies for the greater good, all properly documented to prevent cases of incest further down the line.

As science reached the point where sperm could be safely cloned and altered, they became a luxury product, an alternative to impregnation in laboratory conditions, many countries imposing a lottery where, anyone of fertile age could have the opportunity to be impregnated at the source. Through research, most sexually transmitted diseases were wiped out and the males were given certain 'upgrades' to benefit their new lifestyles. Certain supplements were found to reduce their refractory periods, safely increase their sperm count and the sperms motility. It was no surprise that twins and even triplets became common place the world over. With the shared resources, mortality in birth also dropped in all countries, the 'third world' now a thing of the past.

For the first three years of the post-pandemic world, Steven had found himself in India where, even if he impregnated multiple women in a single day for a year, he'd barely make a blip in the population that remained. When a sense of normality resumed, artificial insemination swiftly becoming the norm, Steven was asked to move to New Zealand, where, due to the lack of men and the small population, no men had stepped foot since the pandemic, Kiwi's forced to rely on artificial insemination or traveling to Australia for 'the real thing', as despite the improvements in science and technology, natural insemination remained the most successful method of impregnation.

On his arrival into Auckland Steven was greeted like a hero, a king, praised for choosing their tiny yet beautiful country over anywhere else in the world, and he'd been pleased and delighted, starting his new job with gusto, as he met a diverse range of New Zealand's population, from the majority Caucasian population, indigenous Māori's and countless Asian diaspora, he'd fucked the lot. Yet now, barely two years later, he found himself part of a slowly corrupting system, a constant stream of rich girls, celebrities or politicians. Mostly white, mostly plastic yet all the goddamn same. Something was definitely up.

"So..." returning to the present, Stephanie was finishing up with the itinerary for the next few days, although he had no doubt she'd do the same thing tomorrow, so at times it seemed pointless, an exercise in futility. He felt like a performing penis. "In regards to your shoot tonight, they're looking for something relaxed, something unintimidating..."

"Who is?" Steven interrupted. "The Interviewer?"

"Well yes," Stephanie responded with an odd look, "but there was some talk that they'd been pressured into asking 'less serious' questions. Which is odd that you'd know that."

Waving his arms wildly, Steven accidentally spilled the coke he forgot he had in his hands. "All this! I'm coddled in a luxury apartment with support staff out the wazoo, fucking the rich and the 'famous'. I feel like I'm Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian all at once, a rich, white, coddled fucking idiot who's being purposefully bereft of what it's like to be a normal person, my destiny to only be remembered for what looked like naked. No, please, let me tidy this up." This was to the maid who'd come to tidy the coke. "May I?"

In surprise, she proffered the cloth, allowing Steven to tidy up the mess that he'd made.

"It's shit like this," Steven said, walking back into the apartment looking for a laundry bin, "shit I've allowed, even enjoyed, having people, a whole bloody staff, tidying up for myself. But you know how this could look? 'Women tidy up for lazy men! A tale as old as time!'" Unable to find anywhere to place the cloth, one of the maids suggested she take it. "Thank you my dear, please, would we be able to get a laundry bin or a washing machine I can use myself? Thank you." With a sigh of defeat, he watched her walk off with the towel. "Even her, the optics of that. Are we aware that half our maids appear Māori or Pasifika? 'White man pushes Māori servants around.' I mean, fuck me Stephanie, it's like we're trying our absolute hardest to look misogynistic and sexist. Yet, if we were to fire them, the optics on that would look awful too! I've been done up like a kipper!"

Realising that he'd been ranting, Steven felt all eyes on him.

"Well Steven," Stephanie spoke calmly, "I can't say I quite considered that before. Also, optics? I didn't realise you worked in the media."

Sitting down, but realising he was still naked around many women, Steven placed a pillow over himself.

"I didn't. I was an architect. I would still like to be an architect. I'm only in my mid-thirties, I've got a lifetime ahead of me and I didn't expect to be some goddamn gigolo."

As Steven sat there having a mini-breakdown, his assistant was running through lists on her clipboard and flipping through her phone.

"Okay, while I personally think you're going a bit insane, there's a recent poll that's starting to show dissatisfaction with your role and position, not a lot, but certainly more than was once considered. So, even though I think you're losing your mind, it's definitely possible we're being manipulated to make you look bad."

Both pleased he wasn't going completely insane, yet upset that he was right, Steven stood up abruptly.

"Well, if that's the case," he said with a grim smile, "would you also mind reviewing the list of the next ten or so women scheduled? I think we can use tonights interview to our advantage..."

Later that evening, in the local natural beauty that was Tekapo Springs, Steven spent over an hour being photographed in countless ridiculous poses yet, in an act of defiance, had refused more than the basic amount of makeup (to reduce any shine) and declined to wear any of the clothes the website, a national gossip rag, had brought. All cardigans, sweaters and pastel colours, instead, he wore the grey three-piece suit that he'd had made for some previous event that he'd been the literal poster boy for, the actual event lost in memory as completely unimportant.

The shoots artistic director was not happy, having many heated debates with Stephanie before Steven made it quite clear that it was his decision, and if she wanted to bitch and moan he was more than willing to go home without the photoshoot or interview, which left her grumbling but at least stopped the whinging.

Photoshoot complete, the interview took place in the café at the top of Mount John, the local equivalent to Mount Cook, yet more accessible to the average walker. The interviewer was a journalist well known to Steven as she had been one of his first kiwi 'clients', and he spent the first twenty minutes asking how the twins were doing, just having celebrated their first birthday. He did his best to keep up with any and all of his children, but the sheer numbers were starting to make this difficult, same as with all of the women he'd fucked, only 'remembering' Aroha's name for a cheat sheet Stephanie had given him

.

"So," finally starting the interview, Aroha sat across from him on a small table, apart from a pot of tea, a recorder the only other item on the table, "Steven, it's fair to mention that we've 'met' before," she winked, "and since those early days you've only gone from strength to strength."

"It's the practice." Steven offered with a wry chuckle.

"I bet it is. So," she shuffled some papers, "originally you were based up in Auckland, but you've been settled in the west coast for the last year or so. How does the South Island contrast to the North Island?"

Steven had expected some baiting questions, but not quite this early. In asking him to make comparisons to the two competitive islands he was likely to bait the Kiwi's protective of 'THEIR' Island. If he chose North, he'd be considered a city-boy, if South, he'd be a country-bumpkin, never mind the cultural insult to the Māori dominated north. However, he was ready for this.

"I couldn't really tell you Aroha," he answered softly, sadly, "during my time here, apart from when I'm asked to take part in interviews or show my face at a political event, I don't really get the opportunity to see Aotearoa, although," he stared out at his surroundings, a beautifully shimmering, blue lake surrounded by mountains, "this is absolutely stunning. I've never been to Lake Tekapo before you know, even though it's only about an hour away from my home."

Although surprised by the response, Aroha wasn't flustered. "Even though you get limited opportunities, like anyone with a busy job you're obviously tied to your availability, surely you must have seen enough to have made even a basic judgement?"

"Oh yes," Steven nodded fervently, "I was lucky enough to go to Hawkes Bay with 'Hello' Magazine, and I had dinner at the top of the Sky Tower with the prime minister. And down here on the South Island, I was lucky enough to visit Milford Sound when one of my government clients couldn't alter their timetable enough, so I altered mine. She had triplets a few months ago, so you might even be able to figure out who I mean," he said with a wink, "and I did a photo shoot with Stuff on a boat around Stewart Island. Amazing to see so much wildlife."