“What are we going to do, chief? We haven’t had a chance to do Quality Assurance on any of the new set of studs. We don’t know if any of them will work.”
“The program on engineering the studs has already delayed this project. The interplanetary spacecraft is complete, and they’ve started to freeze and load the colonists. There is absolutely no way that we can delay this again!”
“But ... But the entire mission --!”
“I’ve heard enough excuses! Find a solution!”
Dr. Frankincense reviewed his options. There were forty strains under development. The idea had been to find one that met the specifications fully and include several individuals. But last time around none of the strains met specifications. All had known flaws. But a dozen were pretty good and might work. He’d just include one individual from each strain and hope for the best. Or maybe two. The truth was, no one on Earth would ever know if it worked. The colonists wouldn’t reach their new home for hundreds of years. He and the chief and everyone else back on Earth would be long dead.
They’d keep the breeding program going for future colonization efforts. Surely they could fudge the records about this one. He and the rest of the team would be heroes. His heart also sank as he realized there was no time to update the instructions for the colonists either.
Fran woke up with what felt like the hangover from hell. Her memories came back to her slowly, in bits and pieces. She had left on a colonization effort to a nearby world, a desperate attempt to restart human civilization somewhere other than the dying earth. There had been no guarantee they would ever get to their destination or that every one of the series of vital steps would go according to plan. But apparently they all had, because she was alive. Alive! And with a group of others who had also survived the journey. They were on a new planet orbiting a new sun, and their opportunity was to start over and rebuild civilization.
When the dust had settled and they had taken inventory, there were 261 individuals, all between the ages of 14 and 25. They were all female.
The instructions on the subject of reproduction were of great interest.
“To lessen the chances of mission failure due to disaster in any one location, you must grow and establish new colonies within a few decades. Rapid population growth is vital to the success of the mission. As a result, you should all give birth to babies as often as human biology allows. Most of you should be pregnant most of the time. One reason the expedition is composed overwhelmingly of females of childbearing age is to allow rapid population growth. Another reason is that experience and scientific modeling suggest that the presence of men might also give rise to unhealthy social patterns as they would vie with each other for dominance.
“You do of course require males for fertilization purposes. Among your frozen cargo supplies are a few men who are tailored for the purpose at hand. At the appropriate time, within a couple weeks of your landing, you will thaw one of them. He will provide for your reproductive needs. Each of these men has been genetically engineered so he can easily determine by sense of smell when a woman is fertile. He will express his sexual interest in you at the appropriate time. All you need to do is submit to his advances. This won’t take much of your time, and you can focus your energies on all the other tasks you must perform.”
That was the basics of it. When you went into heat, the stud would arrive and breed you. Wham, bam. There were other details. In case one man didn’t perform his duties adequately, there were nine backups, though they noted that a single male should easily be able to service the entire female population. To prevent any scheming or politicking, the men were engineered to be intellectually very limited. This was also handy so if the women needed to refreeze a male he wouldn’t know enough to object. (One thing they had plenty of was energy -- a small nuclear reactor. The freezers would keep going indefinitely).
Then there was this: “One final characteristic of these males is that all of the babies they father will be girls. In the distant future, an antidote will be made available that can remove this feature and return their sperm production to normal, where they will father a roughly equal mix of girls and ordinary, normal boys. The specific formula is known only to the computers and will not be revealed until an appropriate time, many decades from now. Your men are engineered for a long life of full sexual potency, but it will still probably require two or three in sequence to provide the fertilization services for as long as required.”
The women valued love and sexual attraction, but they also realized that in the life on Earth that they dimly remembered, it was so interesting it was distracting.
Here they all needed to work hard and work together. Here they had to wear masks when they went outside and might end up living largely on algae soup for years to come. Their very survival was at stake. A lack of love and romance was nowhere near the top of their list of problems., and the entire dating and mating game would get in the way of their other tasks.
A mere 26 days after their landing, it was time to wake up the man. He would have sex with the fertile ones among them. Who was fertile?
All the women and girls were under strict instructions to track their periods, but it doesn’t take much to mess up women’s cycles. Prolonged freezing and waking up in a new, hostile environment were plenty. So initially, at least, they all had to be ready to be bred at any time. Some of the younger girls were virgins, and, as per instructions, “Sexually experienced women should instruct the less experienced on how to prepare themselves so as to not present any obstacle to the mating act.” Dildos were not included among their supplies, so fingers had to do.
Within the spacecraft pods that had been turned into buildings, space was at a premium. The concept of “bed” was far in their future. When night came, mats were spread on the floor of their work areas. The women slept side by side on these mats. Could there be any privacy for mating? The toilet cubicle was judged to be too small. It seemed doubtful.
They started Alan thawing on Monday morning at 8am and they knew it would be at least a few hours before he would be awake enough to do his job.
“Where am I?” said a hoarse but deep voice. He could at least talk.
Fran had been left with his unzipped “body bag” in one of the smaller rooms. She was sitting on the floor working on her tablet, and now she turned. One qualification for her job as wake-up companion was she was having her period. That should guarantee that no compulsion to mate would interfere with his waking up.
“Hello, Alan,” she said. “You’re in a strange new place. All of us are. But it’s fun and exciting.”
“Oh,” he said, but didn’t ask more. He gradually sat up and drank.
“I gotta go,” he said without shame. Fran produced a small bucket that had been set aside for that purpose. He worked his dick through his fly. Fran got her first look at a penis in a long time. Somehow it looked pretty special. There had been no time for sex in the last few months back on Earth either. He shook his dick to get the last few drops of pee off and stuck it back inside.
He drank more, ate what she offered, and stretched his muscles. She helped him stand and walk. He got around independently within an hour, if a little unsteadily.
Alan was six feet tall, dark hair, brown eyes, square jaw. A closely cropped beard. A pretty appealing body. Profuse pubic hair, and ... were those balls bigger than usual? They sure looked big to her.
Fran judged he looked ready.
“Want to meet everyone else?”
“OK,” he said.
Fran pressed the intercom spot on her tablet and said, “Alan’s coming out!”
There were 35 women in this particular building that day, occupying 6 main rooms, and there was tense whispering as the door opened.
When Alan appeared, he said, “Oh!” and began sniffing. His nose was pretty efficient, for within a few seconds he had steered himself into an adjacent room and zoomed in on Yvonne, sniffing her crotch. There was a big bulge in his sweatpants.
“I guess you’re first!” said a woman nearby.
“Um, OK,” Yvonne said. “What do I do?”
“Well, start by taking your pants off! And lie on the floor!”
When she’d done that, Alan took control. He pulled his own pants down to his knees to reveal a stiff penis, and he mounted her. He aimed his cock with his fingers and pushed in hard.
“Ow,” said Yvonne softly.
“Unnnh, unnnh, unnnh,” said Alan in his deep, guttural voice as he burrowed his cock a little deeper with each thrust. Ten seconds after initial entry, he said, “Aaahhhhhh!” and a second later he pulled out and sat on the floor beside Yvonne, breathing heavily.
Yvonne murmured, “This is pretty embarrassing!” as she got up and retrieved her own underpants and sweatpants and put them on.
“Hey, you’re leading the way ... We’ll all have our turn I guess...”
“So, Alan, how was that?” asked Fran. “You done that before?”
“No,” he said, grinning. Soon he was sniffing.
The 35 women had all stopped what they were doing and gathered around. Maybe 20 had seen some of what had happened.
The women fell back as he got up. His nose rapidly zoomed in on the crotch of Beth. Yvonne was 22, but Beth was a 14-year-old virgin.
.... There is more of this story ...