Michael turned on the news with anxiety rumbling his gut. He slouched on his sofa, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders after a long day at work. The lines had not gotten shorter. He'd done three hundred and twenty six implants on his shift. Not a record, but close. His team had been working non stop since the announcement of the SSA program. His blue eyes scanned the ticker at the bottom of the screen searching for any mention. He'd expected it to be a much bigger affair. He thought he'd see all the talking heads rehashing the idea again and again as a big countdown clock flashed on the other half of the screen. Instead, the two anchors smiled at the camera and had a polite conversation about a new movie releasing the next weekend. Disappointed, Michael waved his hand and the screen went black. The world had changed so much in the past five years, perhaps people were tired of talking about change altogether.
He considered falling asleep where he sat, but knew he'd loathe himself all the more for doing so. With a grunt, he shambled to his feet and headed to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and started to undress. The past few months had taken a toll on his body. His muscles still had definition, but less than before. His hair was black with a few strands of premature grey, just like his father who had a shock of white hair by forty-two. Michael tugged down his boxers and flexed for himself in front of the mirror, resolving to make time for the gym again once his work had slowed down. Unfortunately, he didn't think that would be for a while yet, except tomorrow. He grabbed a razor and stepped into the shower, enjoying the feeling of the water cascading against his naked body. He positioned the shaving mirror, which never seemed to remain at the right angle, but then turned his attention to his groin. Arcing his stomach inward for a better view, he pulled his penis from one side to the other and evaluated the situation. The water heated the blade and softened the stubble quickly. He moved his hand down to his balls and felt the subtle sign of hair as he pulled and tweaked the pliable skin of his scrotum. Frowning, he started to shave. His vanity drove him to bizarre lengths, at times, and he resolved once again to schedule the laser hair removal.
Michael tried not to expect sex tomorrow. He knew what the chips would do. He'd seen it with his own eyes, more than once. Yet, after a lifetime of sculpting his body, grooming himself, and diligently working at being charming and successful, the idea of crossing paths with a woman who would have sex at a mere request seemed insane. And not just any woman either. The changes would start at midnight and finish by dawn. All across the world women would go to sleep looking like they had their entire lives, but they would wake up looking like a wet dream come to life. Men too, for that matter, though male enrollment was a fraction of a fraction of female enrollment. In the thousands of procedures Michael had done in the past months, he'd only seen three men. It was to be expected. The program requirements for men were much more restrictive and the reward package much less lucrative. Michael had considered it. He figured every man must have at least looked at the program, though next to none would go through with it.
The Sexual Service Act of 2026. Enrollees got status right alongside military service. That was the real path for men these days, though with so few wars left to fight, Michael didn't understand why. The world had jumped forward all of the sudden. For years, leading up to his twenty eighth birthday, everything seemed stuck, a record skipping on a track. Progress was hard fought and bitterly contested, maybe because the world felt that it had no where else to go and that it was best to stay put. Then came the cold fusion reactor, an impossible myth made reality. Researchers in China discovered a method to produce clean, inexhaustible, and virtually unlimited energy. In an even more surprising turn, they'd not kept it for themselves. The tech spread like wildfire and paths of research blocked by money or energy suddenly stood wide open. With no more oil to fight over, governments turned their attention to domestic policies. Waves of reform and progressive candidates claimed the democratic strongholds of the west and everything seemed amazing until the next hurdle arrived. Turns out, the energy sector employed a lot of people. More than that, the auxiliary industries to the energy field suddenly had much less to do. Michael watched unemployment skyrocket as infinite energy meant automation could conquer the world. By and large, humans were no longer needed for production.
The health field took its hits as well, but Michael survived it. People still needed doctors, though computers did most of his job for him. Universal basic income became a rallying point for change and, with surprisingly little fanfare after almost three hundred years of fighting capitalism, suddenly everyone's basic needs could be met. Except for one, occupation. Millions of humans suddenly had nothing to do. Again, science came with answers. Exploration, defense, and pleasure. Presidents and diplomats rolled out new speeches about going to the stars to find new worlds. And on the way, it was important to be prepared for whatever new threats might lie beyond the solar system. Millions volunteered. Too many, in fact. Society once again turned to science for an answer. In return, the Implant was created.
Michael toweled off and grabbed a pair of fresh boxers from his dresser. He poured himself a drink and settled into an old armchair as the first sip of whiskey slid down his throat. He checked the time, again nervous. Would they go out tomorrow? Would his walk to work be populated by hyper-sexed vixens every few steps? Would people take advantage of the reduction in public decency laws? He knew the answer to that one. Of course they would. They already had. With no more work to occupy them, people had become much more natural in their day to day lives. A few psychologist talking heads postulated that with all basic needs met with no effort required, humans would revert to a more animal like state. That had proved to be at least half true. Parks had become playful hangouts for young couples that had nothing but free time. New lobbies for freedom of sexual expression popped up with the goal of repealing old laws that prohibited public nudity. Sooner rather than later, it became common to see a woman getting plowed while on a morning run. But it didn't stop there.
Michael wasn't one to believe in evil international corporation based conspiracies, but he admitted to himself while reading message boards that something strange had started happening. Suddenly the world was much less uptight about sex. Happy coincidence led that to coincide with the Implant. No limits on research funding had led to the creation of a small chip that could be implanted in the brain through a routine procedure behind the ear. The chip could then regulate the body in ways that astounded the world. Weight control, blood pressure control, mood control, and even hair color could be changed through the chip's interface. The Singularity Chip some called it. The next step in human evolution. Within a year, it had become possible to regrow lost limbs and even reduce age. Then, science offered another turn in the path of human destiny. The Implant could change a body type and create psychological conditions that could be easily manipulated by verbal suggestion. People could be turned into slaves. Backlash arose, and the Implant almost died due to fear of a corporation turning everyone into mindless zombies. Michael had protested as hard as anyone else. Then came the re-branding. Open sourced chip manufacturing monitored by multiple independent agencies. With it came a new plan to save humanity from idle hands. The Sexual Service Act. Signed into law with incredible speed, it created special citizen status and additional stipends for program volunteers. The pitch was simple. Have a chip implanted pre-set with the SSA template and then go on living life as you always had, with one difference. You became incapable of refusing sex with anyone who requested it.
Reading wasn't easy. Michael couldn't think of much else. He kept checking the time as if fireworks would go off, and he didn't want to miss them. All the women who'd come in to the office for the procedure were at home, waiting for something to happen. The chip would induce sleep, not immediately in case someone was driving, but they'd still feel very tired and have been warned for months to be in bed before it started. Then, while deep in slumber, their bodies would start to change. Tightening here, growing there, losing hair in most spots. Michael thought about the training videos he'd seen when each woman came in to his office. He'd watched a time lapse of the process and, other than the remarkable science of it all, the truly amazing thing was how beautiful each woman became. No two were the same. They became more enhanced versions of themselves. Boobs got larger, asses got rounder, and pussies got tighter. Michael had spent hours explaining it over and over to clients in dull medical terms, but each day it got harder to not tell the inquisitive young woman, "Look, you're going to turn into a human fuck toy, and I might be first in line."
Strangely, it wasn't their bodies that he found most appealing. It was the ambivalence. In the training video, a pair of porn stars demonstrated how it would work. The male walked up to the female and asked to fuck her. Without any response or particular acknowledgment of the request, the woman bent over and pulled down her shorts. Her pussy was already dripping wet and ready as the man slid in with ease. When he was done, she pulled up her shorts and went back to work. It was hard to believe that it wasn't all staged, but then they showed some non industry volunteers on hidden camera. One was a housewife. The filming crew came across her in a Target. They'd somewhat laid in wait for her, but she still stuck out like a sore thumb. She wore skimpy clothes and had breasts jutting out like melons stuffed in a sweater. The porn star approached her and asked if she would have sex with him. She answered that she couldn't on private property, but if he would wait outside, she'd be happy to oblige. Michael knew the SSA office had since worked out a lot of the legalities. The porn star walked outside behind the woman who had left her shopping in the middle of the aisle. Then she asked whether he'd like a blowjob, pussy, or ass. Then, no different from the studio set, the woman bent over and pulled down her miniskirt. She showed more enthusiasm, but still seemed mildly annoyed to be taken from her shopping. Michael had even asked during the presentation about how volunteers were to deal with propositions that interrupted their day to day life. "If a woman is driving with the window down and some guy yells that he wants his dick sucked, she can't just slam on the breaks and run to him," he'd asked. Of course not, the answer came, which is why safety is paramount.
In the end, the Implant became hugely popular. Girls on Instagram showed their small scars after their procedure making other women want them and other men fantasize about crossing paths with the faux celebrity they'd always dreamed of fucking. An entire generation celebrated free sexuality by getting the implants. Men wanted them too, but since they came with some unpleasant caveats, fewer signed up. Michael already had wind of a new chip coming to market that brought the sexual potency template without the compliance programming. Of course, that wouldn't get better citizen status or additional stipends, but it would be sold like crazy anyway. In another few years, he thought, we'll see nothing but huge dicked men fucking bimbos on every street corner until everyone's mind turns to pudding.
He downed the rest of his drink and checked the time. 12:01. It had started. The first phase of Sexual Service had begun. Michael turned on the television again, but the news had turned to a rehash of celebrity events. Little else seemed to happen any more. They made no mention of the SSA or anything similar. Michael sighed and headed to bed. In the dark, he couldn't stop thinking about the woman pulled out of Target and fucked on the street. He fell asleep dreaming of meeting her.
***
Michael grunted as he rolled over in bed. His alarm chirped insistently, but not abrasively. A twinge of pain lurked behind the eyes, a familiar sensation which had grown more and more common in the years since college. For a moment, he kept his eyes shut and thought back to the days of staying out all night drinking and waking up in bed next to a girl who'd thought he was funny if not handsome. He'd usually give her another go in the mornings if she was up for it, but most girls weren't. He found too often that the kind of girl that was enthused to follow the vapor of alcohol into a man's bed was not very keen on herself the next morning. Michael opened his eyes, and the old faces and bodies of past loves vanished. Peels of white light streamed in from the blinds. He snorted and coughed, reached for his phone, and ordered the screen on.
The anchor was in mid sentence, "...remind everyone to be extremely cautious today. While officials have assured the public that all negative effects have been worked out through testing, it is unwise to proceed without caution. Traffic in particular is of a great concern. Let's go to John Nelson for more."
Finally. They were talking about it. A banner at the bottom of the screen read, "SSA Activity Period Begins..." On the screen was a stock interview with a reporter and some suit from the SSA office. Michael duly listened as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. When they cut back to the anchor desk, the camera had changed, and Michael gawked at the new member of the panel.
