Prologue
“This has to be a mistake.” The young man’s voice was filled with horror. He stood in the reception room, staring at the garish red walls and gilded décor with disdain. He was young, no more than eighteen and looked even younger with his blond hair cut short like a soldier’s. He had a soldier’s physique as well, broad shoulders, thick arms, slender torso, and well-built legs. His purple eyes shone with a barely suppressed rage as he stared at the middle-aged man standing before him. The young man’s posture spoke of his pride, and his dark military coveralls seemed distinctly out of place.
“There is no mistake.” The man said with disdain of his own. He was as tall as the young man, and his blond hair was longer, nearly reaching his shoulders, but his purple eyes flashed with humor more than anything else. Unlike the young man’s coveralls, he wore a dark green robe that wasn’t out of place here. Anyone looking at the two of them would immediately assume they were brothers, or maybe father and son.
“I’m not a… whore.” The young man said with a shudder.
“You are now.” The older man countered with a wicked grin.
“I haven’t been programmed for… pleasure.” The younger man countered. “I’m supposed to be a soldier.”
“The war’s over.” The older man explained with a sigh. “The government’s offloading as many surplus models as they can, and since you haven’t finished your training, you were sold to us.”
“You don’t want me here.” The young man whispered with a shudder as two scantily clad women passed through the room on their way somewhere deeper in the house. The two GeneCorps technicians had already left, closing the security door behind them. He knew there was no way out unless he fought, and even then he had nowhere to go. There was no loving family for him, not really. They hadn’t been his family, after all. He’d only lived there as part of the training program.
“It’s either you’re here, or you’re destroyed like the rest of your type who aren’t integrated into some other operation.” The older man shrugged with nonchalance. If this model didn’t work out, they could always procure another. He’d been cheaper, far cheaper than a pleasure model of the same type.
“I’d do better…” The younger one started to say but he cut off his voice before going further. He knew it was futile, because in the end he was nothing more than an object to be traded, sold, or used. “Okay.”
“Okay?” The older man said with a lift of a pale, perfectly manicured eyebrow.
“Okay, I’m ready.” The younger man said softly. He still held himself perfectly straight, without letting his shoulders sag no matter how much he might want to let that happen. His ‘training’ as the older man put it might not have been completed, but he was still as he’d been made.
“Your spec sheet says you are a Garret Atrix Model 10-11MX.” The older man said as he pulled out a small data pad. He frowned at it slightly and looked back at the younger man. “GeneCorps advertised you as being suitable for several ancillary functions including personal pleasure. Would you describe this as being accurate?”
“Yes.” The younger man said calmly.
“Explain.” The older man said with a frown.
“MX designs are trained for military leadership positions.” When he answered, he kept his voice neutral, almost clinical. “As officers, they are required to work with and interact closely with True Borns. After gestation and preliminary training, they are assigned to True Born households with children of similar ages to assist in their training for military leadership and acclimatization with True Borns. While they are nominally part of the household, they are also strip-trained to provide household services including sexual partner services if requested by the True Born parental units. In my case, I was strip-trained in providing sexual services for my male True Born sibling.”
“How extensive?” The older man asked causing the younger man to blush.
“Full training.” This came out as a whisper as the fair complexion turned a deep red. It amused the older man to notice that even the tips of the young man’s ears were blushing.
“Including dominant/submissive?”
“Yes.” Now the voice quavered a bit as he answered, and his head dipped ever so slightly.
“What about females?” The older man asked softly. Now the head of the younger model dipped completely towards the ground.
“Like normal M models, all MX models are rendered incapable of performing with females.” He answered.
“Did the True Borns you were assigned to give you a name?” The older man asked in a tone that was a little softer. The younger model took a deep breath and lifted his head at last, meeting the purple eyes of the older with his own purple eyes.
“Garret Lars.” He answered. “MX models are allowed to carry the name of the True Born family to which they are assigned.”
“Still, not very imaginative on the first name.”
“Billy called me that when we first met, and they decided to keep it.” Garret said with a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
“I see.” The older one said with a slight bit of contempt. There appeared to be a slight problem he’d have to take care of with this one, but there was still a lot of potential here. Enough clients would love to have this one in their arms for a night, or a week, and he might actually be suitable as a dinner escort if a client ever desired that. Strip-training helped set groundwork, but it was actual experience which made the training useful. If the strip-training wasn’t followed with real experience, it faded in clones as soon as the chip was removed. “You may refer to me as Damion.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Damion.” Garret said automatically, a habit of his training.
“I’m sure.” Damion said with a sardonic grin. He took out a small chip, less than a centimeter square and handed it to Garret. “I trust you are capable of handling standard interfaces?”
“Yes.” Garret said as he took the chip. He reached under his left earlobe and tapped it in the required manner. Four quick taps followed by a long push and two more taps opened the small port hidden by a strip of pseudo-flesh. He then inserted the chip, downloaded the contents, and ejected it so he could hand it back to the man.
“You’re supposed to keep it in.” Damion said with a frown. “You know strip-chips require you to actually use the information before you can remember it!”
“Sorry.” Garrett said softly. Maybe his tech file in Damion’s hands didn’t mention all the things he could do that normal clones couldn’t. If it didn’t mention them, then he wouldn’t either. Who knew what could be useful down the road.
“Reinsert it and keep it installed at all times, unless I direct you to remove it.” Damion said sternly and Garret took the chip back, repeated the open process and reinstalled the chip. Garret also knew not to mention he’d detected the locater beacon on the chip. It would let them track him wherever he went on this accursed planet. Sure, he could have disabled the tracker with a slight surge from one of his still-installed military components, but they would only replace it anyway.
“Done.” Garret mentioned as he began reviewing the first few files. They were diagrams of this extensive building, and included his assigned room, basic information on the other… staff, and of course emergency directions in case of fire or groundquake, or air funnel, or health inspection. The other files would wait for review.
“You will want to review your duty files and your client hosting instructions as well as the regulations files.” Damion said quickly. “I have many duties, and you will do your best to not interfere with them. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Director.” Garret answered, pulling the appropriate title from the staff roster. Damion nodded in approval.
“I will assign you a mentor to help you with your adjustment.” Damion said before turning to leave. “Find your room and get settled.”
“Thank you.” Garret said with fake sincerity and headed towards the door on the left, knowing from the diagram that the stairway would be across the other room and to the left. He did his best to ignore the looks of the roomful of scantily-clad young women and the young men who had on even less clothing. The thought that he’d be forced to wear such degrading clothing made him mentally shudder as he climbed up the stairs. He passed another 10-11 in the hallway and barely nodded. The other 10-11 gave him a dirty look and he wondered how many years out of gestation the other 10-11 was. He didn’t even look sixteen. The 10-11’s were known for maintaining a youthful appearance well into their eighth decade. For instance, Damion might very well be in his sixties although he only looked like he was in his mid-thirties.
It was part of what made the 10-11 a favorite for personal pleasure functions.
His quarters were fairly large. The old-style manual door, with its brass handle was quaint, and as he entered the small lounging chamber he matched the diagrams in his mind with reality. At least here, the room with a lounging couch, coffee table, small round table and two well-padded armchairs wasn’t as gaudy as the entryway. Sure, everything was plush, and done up in dark colors of red, black, and brown, but it had a slightly more austere touch. His mind ran through all the contents of the room, noting from the diagram files where things were hidden away, and the contents of the small entertaining bar as well as the small cooling unit.
The next room was the ‘main’ room, with a gargantuan bed dominating it, as well as several dressers and nightstands, and two red leather lounging chairs. The bed itself had a black bedspread, and once again the mental diagram he’d downloaded from the chip told him where all the… accouterments were located. They were the specialty tools of a pleasure model, and while he had been grown and gestated for a different purpose, he knew he could adapt to use all of them accordingly.
If he wanted to adapt.
After examining the two doors that led to a large bathroom and a relatively extensive closet, he let out a sigh and pulled a few items from a dresser drawer. All of the clothes in the closet, and the various drawers would fit him at least. The room’s last occupant had been a 10-11 model of the same age, and therefore the same size, as he was now. Garret doubted it had been the 10-11 he’d passed earlier in the hallway. That one had been an inch shorter, which meant he’d still have some growing to do.
Taking the items he’d pulled out of the drawer, he began to set them up, taking out two oblong plastic containers and filling them with a cleaning solution. He’d been in the middle of a watch cycle when the GeneCorps technicians had come up to take him away. They’d given him no time to change, no time to talk with Billy or any other cadet. He’d had no choice really. They had electronically sealed affidavits confirming his sale to the New Prejat Pleasure House, all the way on the other side of the planet. During the transport over, they’d given him two things, and he now prepared to take them out.
A sigh escaped his lips as he took first the left and then the right contact out, placing them in the cleaning solution inside the plastic containers. He looked up at the mirror above the dresser and smiled at the sight of his green eyes looking back at him. They were what marked him different from every other version of a clone. Every clone ever made by the Elacrar Republic had purple eyes, just like every clone made from the Sol Empire had yellow, and clones from the Federation of Colonies had fuchsia eyes. That was how, beyond any physical commonalities, True Borns were capable of recognizing a clone. It was also how a clone on the battlefield could tell a human officer, and knows to follow their orders.
The MX series, like Garret, had been designed as a test, to see if specially designed clones could take over combat officer positions, reducing the likelihood of True Born officers dying in combat. Garret was among the second testing group gestated for that purpose. The 10-10ML groups had been mostly successful, but the 10-11MX designs had incorporated controversial changes, including being raised not with other clones in a Gestation & Education facility, but with a True Born family from the age of seven. There were also many other changes, and Garret closed his eyes as some of the unintended consequences washed over him.
He missed Billy already, and the fact that he hadn’t gotten to even say goodbye hurt. No True Born would have been ripped away like this, and although he knew he wasn’t a True Born, the Lars family had treated him the same as they treated Billy from the time they turned ten. Garret had been gestated within a week of Billy’s birth, and so Mom and Pop had decided to celebrate their birthdays together (mostly at Billy’s insistence). Tears dripped down Garret’s face as he realized once again that he really was nothing but a clone, and while they’d once treated him like family, the Lars were not really his family and would most likely do little more than file a protest at his being sold without their consultation.
They’d never sought to buy his contract; the military had owned that, and now it was the pleasure house that owned it, and him.
“Hi!” A far too perky voice said with a trace of a Slavic accent. Garret reacted with surprise, opening his eyes and turning to look at the small, dark-haired clone that had walked in without his even noticing. The clone stopped dead as their eyes met and he drew back looking confused for a moment.
“Wait in the front room.” Garret snapped in an officious tone and the dark-haired clone, dressed in a simple white shirt and tight blue lomex pants, spun on his heel before fleeing the room. The blond clone let out a deep breath and reached down to grab the purple contacts and put them back in his eyes. He felt like he was putting on a mask as they covered his pupils, making him look exactly like a clone. He stepped confidently towards the door and entered his small sitting room where the dark-haired clone was standing nervously, almost twitching as he watched the doorway. “Sorry about that, I was trying on the contacts to make sure they fit. The MX series has a slightly different eye shape and I wanted to make sure the contacts from the pleasure model would fit me.”
“Oh.” The dark-haired clone accepted the conversation with a sigh of relief as he gazed at Garret’s now-purple eyes. “I was confused when I saw the green eyes. You know we’re not allowed to wear them unless a True Born tells us to do so.”
“I know.” Garret shrugged. “There was no one present, so I thought it would be okay.”
“Oh.” The dark-haired repeated the same word again.
“I’m Garret.” The blond said as he gave the other clone a short nod of his head.
“I’m Deci.” The other clone said with uncertainty. “You’re not like Gary at all.”
“Who is Gary?” Garret asked with an incline of his eyebrow as he tried to remove his hand from the grasp of Deci. It took a moment, but as soon as his hand was free, Deci moved so that his left hand was brushing up against Garret’s right thigh. Pleasure models always wanted physical contact with another being, even if it was just another clone. The military files stored in his brain told him that was part of their design, the need for near-constant physical contact. The Deci model was a cute one, as such things were judged. Like most clones, they were shorter than normal humans. This model was just barely five-seven, and had maybe another inch or two of growth left before he turned twenty. If Garret had to guess, he was probably sixteen or seventeen Earth years old.
“He’s the other 10-11 still here.” Deci said. “I’m a 09-14PS, by the way. I gestated in New Moscow plant fourteen.”
“I’m a 10-11MX.” Garret said softly.
“What’s that?” Deci asked with a scrunched up look on his face. “I never heard of that.”
“It means I’m an experimental model for the military.” Garret explained.
“So that’s why you need someone to show you around?” Deci asked as his hand began to rub up and down on Garret’s thigh. Garret took a step backwards, out of Deci’s reach. The dark-haired model frowned. The 09 series weren’t the brightest models created. That’s why military models were the most common to be assigned to infantry groups. Sure, this one was almost anemically thin, but he wasn’t a military model. A military model would have another sixty pounds of weight on his body, all of it muscle. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not use to being touched like that.” Garret admitted and Deci frowned.
“But all pleasure models need to be touched.” He argued.
“I’m not a pleasure model.” Garret reminded him.
“But you are now.” He stated. Garret knew that Deci was right in his own simple way, and that while the files in his head might be able to tell him how to act with a client, there was always more to surviving than just knowing how to please a client. He stepped forward and reached out with a hand, touching the shorter clone’s arm just above the elbow.
“That’s not so bad, is it?” Deci said with a slight purr in his voice as he moved a step closer to Garret. They were standing so close now their chests were almost touching. Deci placed his right hand gently on Garret’s chest. “You should probably change out of this thing. I have no idea how you could stand wearing something so… rough.”
“Everyone wears it at the Academy.” Garret said with a shrug as Deci slid his left arm forward and their fingers twined together. With a light step, Deci led him towards the door to the main room, and all but pulled him through.
“Well, you’re not at the Academy now.” Deci said with a smile as he led the way to the closet. “Willet, the 10-11 who had these rooms before you, sure knew how to make his customers happy. That’s why one of them bought his contract out from the House and they got you to replace him. It’s a good thing all his clothes stay with the house.”
“He must be happy.” Garret commented softly as Deci released the blond clone long enough to start going through the dozens of clothes in the closet.
“I think Gary was in love with him, which is why he’s not happy about you.” Deci said offhandedly as he pulled out several different sets of clothing, all of which made Garret wince. He put all but one set back and grabbed Garret’s hand as he pulled Garret outside. Moving quickly he set the clothing on the bed, pushed Garret down next to it, and then moved over to the dresser. “Then again, Gary was also hoping he’d get this room since his is a little smaller. Tough luck for him. I heard from Louann that Damion’s already making some marketing plans for you and you’ll probably get your first customer tonight. You’ll want to look really good for that. Get undressed.”
“Huh?” Garret asked in a slight daze from the rush of information.
“Strip!” Deci said with a leer as he examined several different sets of skimpy undergarments. While Garret took off the black coveralls, grey t-shirt, and grey boxers that were part of his military uniform, Deci decided on a shiny green bikini brief that matched the skin-tight green mesh shirt he’d already picked out, and would likely be visible under the tight white lomex pants.
“I can dress myself.” Garret said softly in protest, only to receive a frown.
“If you’re not designed as a pleasure model, you’ll need someone to give you advice.” Deci argued. “I bet you’re ready to get dressed in those clothes now aren’t you?”
“Isn’t that why you got them out?” Garret asked.
“You need to bathe first.” Deci pointed out. “You smell dirty.”
“I smell fine.” Garret disagreed, but didn’t let out the sigh he wanted. “Fine.”
“Let me show you the bathroom. You’re going to love it.” Deci said in an excited rush, grabbing Garret’s hand and leading him into the luxurious bathroom. One corner held a large shower stall big enough for three men, another corner held an oversized spa tub, while a bidet sat in the middle next to the toilet. Deci never released his hand as the dark-haired clone began filling the spa tub and immediately began putting in scented bath salts. All the while he was chattering about the different properties of the various scents, oils, and salts, totally oblivious to the fact that all the information was already in Garret’s head. When the bath was full, he nearly dragged Garret into it before disrobing.
“You don’t have to…” Garret started to protest as Deci slipped into the tub and cuddled up to his chest.
“Yes I do.” Deci said with a sigh of pleasure as he brought Garret’s arms around him in an embrace. “You need to practice satisfying a client. Pretend I’m your client.”
The water was tepidly warm nearly an hour later as Deci’s body shuddered in orgasm under Garret’s careful handling. The pleasure model let out a contented sigh as he fell back into the embrace of Garret’s arms, his head lolling against the blonde’s chest. A wave of guilt fell over Garret. He’d done it – betrayed his Billy – and he knew it was just the beginning.
That didn’t matter, really. He was no longer Billy’s, and couldn’t be expected to maintain the faithfulness he had over the last several years. He’d always known eventually Billy would marry. True Borns always did marry, in the end, or at least the True Borns of the upper class always did. There were no laws against same-gender couples, and amongst the normal citizens, they were regularly tolerated to varying degrees amongst the colony worlds (not Earth though, where the Church forbade such things). However, among the ruling class families, like the Lars family, children who were attracted to partners of the same gender always fulfilled their dynastic duties by taking a wife and having children. If they were lucky, the wife would be understanding and allow their husbands to either openly visit the many pleasure houses in the major cities, or might even consent to the purchase of a pleasure model for the household itself.
In some households, the wife even insisted on a pleasure model of her own.
“You’re pretty good, for a military model.” Deci whispered. “That was almost like being with a True Born.”
“I’ve been with a single True Born since I was a kid.” Garret whispered, willing the tears to not show again.
“How lucky.” Deci whispered. “I still dream that someday I’ll make a True Born so pleased that he buys me for his estates. Too bad I don’t get really rich clients though. They seem to like you 10-11 models more.”
“It’s always good to dream.” Garret said as he let go of his own dreams into the tepid water. There would be no flying amongst the stars for him now. He would never rise to command a great starship, lead it in battle, lead his clone troopers in battle, defending the Elacrar Republic against its enemies in the Sol Empire. He’d never come home to Billy, who might be married but would always leave room in his bed for Garret.
No, sometimes it was good to dream, but many other times it was best to let them go lest they break the heart forever.
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
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