Chapter 1

On an Alternate Earth, Spring 2035

The true root cause may never be known, but the chaos and joy the political and legal events of 2035 left in their wake were overwhelming. Some say tap water in the Capitol was polluted with a brain pathogen. Some say ingredients supplied to restaurants around DC were laced with psychotropic drugs. Others blame demons or space aliens. The cause doesn’t really matter now, and the effects were tremendous.

The Sullivan family were quite happy until the recession. Jacob had been lucky to win the affection of his wife Jenny in college, shortly before she won a beauty contest. He was a Regional Manager at a large retail chain. Between giving birth six times, she worked at a bank. They had two almost new cars and a nice four-bedroom home in a suburb, with a large back yard the kids had liked to play in as they grew up. The twin boys Benjamin and Leonard, or Lenny and Benny, were slightly smaller than average for 13 and had short red hair.

At barely 14 and nearly 16 years’ old, Lorianne and Elizabeth or ‘Lori and Ellie’ were pure eye candy. With their hourglass figures, pretty faces, and flowing strawberry-blonde curls they were true beauties and knew it. They were mostly good girls, but also skilled teases. They got many gifts and enjoyed a lot of concerts and other fun with their boyfriends, who never got more than kisses, a few minutes of boob play, and an occasional hand job. Little 12-year-old Rachel was a cutie too and liked to keep her long red hair in pigtails. She shared a room with her baby brother William, who was only two.

On the drive home one evening their father Jacob was shocked to hear, “ ... and to improve the economy, Congress has declared that stores can now sell alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana products to anyone 14 or older. To improve condom and adult toy sales, the age of sexual consent has been lowered to 14 as well!” He gasped in astonishment, barely able to believe it. When he got home, he repeated the rules for the kids. They were firmly banned from sex, alcohol, or smoking anything.

When the couple lost their jobs the next summer, they searched daily for months. They finally needed to accept the only employment available, as part-time convenience store clerks. They felt quite guilty selling beer, weed, and cigarettes to teen after teen. A few months after she started her new job, Jenny heard on the radio, “Since the Line Party passed a law requiring half an hour of prayer per day in schools, the Circle party has made polygamy legal! Anybody old enough can marry up to twelve people! When asked how polygamy relates to prayer in school, the Circle party leader said quote, ‘It just does, okay.’”

Jenny facepalmed herself and sighed loudly. At home she had a long talk with her kids about them only dating people their own age, and always using condoms.

The next week she was about to go home when there was another shocking announcement. “Halfway through the legislative session yesterday, the Circle Party legalized prostitution everywhere to improve the poor economy. Perhaps as a bit of revenge, the Line party banned divorce, effective next week Friday. If you don’t like your spouse, get to a lawyer in a hurry. In other big news, as payback for the divorce ban, the Circle Party has changed the law to allow those as young as 14 to buy pornography, perform in porn movies, or engage in sexual activity for money. You heard me correctly and this isn’t a joke. In maybe the most shocking development of the decade, Congress has just legalized teen porn and teen prostitution.”

She sighed and slapped her forehead again. She was ashamed to be human if any humans out there were actually that crazy or stupid. Just before the next clerk arrived, Jenny quickly pocketed a handful of condoms to give her daughters. The last thing they needed was another baby. On the way home, out of desperation, she considered becoming a hooker. She thought long and hard but couldn’t bring herself to cheat on her husband. She loved him far too much. There was no way she would even consider letting her kids do it.

Only a few days later, Jacob stole a pair of cheap remote-controlled cars from the convenience store on the twins’ birthday. The couple had no money, and he felt he had to at least get them something. He got caught, and he and his wife lost their jobs. Within two unemployed months, they had sold one of their cars and were about to lose their house. Due to the severe financial hardship, their only real choice was to turn over their kids to County Social Services, other than 3-year-old William.

The family were quite depressed as they climbed from the car, then gave each other hugs and kisses goodbye. After several minutes of crying, the parents watched the teens walk inside the orphanage. At least the siblings were lucky enough to be housed together. The sisters shared a room with three other girls, and their twin brothers were at the other end of the hall.

Because of the recent legal changes, those 14 and older were allowed to skip class and have sex with visitors for money if they wanted. They only got a quarter of what the customers paid, and could buy candy, chips, sodas, and other treats. Most of the Sullivans didn’t want to, but one day Ellie effectively traded her virginity for an assortment of treats which were gone by the end of the week. She regretted that, but still gave blowjobs occasionally when she was craving chocolate.

ONE YEAR LATER

The large man wore a dark blue suit and was seated at the conference table. He had short blonde hair, ice blue eyes, and an unhappy look on his face. As the young black girl walked in he ordered, “Get under the table. You know what to do.” She reluctantly knelt, crawled between the chairs, then unzipped his pants and pulled his briefs down. She pulled out his penis and started to lick it as she heard the door open. His rod began to harden as his deep gravelly voice asked, “You’re the new strategy advisor?”

The thin Hispanic man was dressed in bright orange trousers and a multi-colored shirt. The feathers on his verdant green cowboy hat fluttered a little as he took it off and replied, “Yes, sir. Diego Hernandez, at your service.”

“Have a seat. I’m Glen Gunther, Administrator of County Social Services. I don’t see a need for a strategy advisor, much less one dressed like a peacock. Income is up three percent from last year.”

“Yes, but there have been a lot of customer complaints and nine teens in your care have run away this month.”

“11, as of yesterday. What of it?”

Diego said, “The last county I worked with increased their income drastically and only had two teen runaways in the last year. I think I can really help, if you let me. A simple and cheap improvement would be art. Many teens enjoy painting and would be happy to create murals on the walls. Paint doesn’t cost much and it would liven up the look of the place. Nobody wants to stare at plain gray walls all the time, and it’s a cheap way to keep a lot of them busy.”

The big man nodded and Diego asked, “What do you see as your biggest problems?”

Glen’s chubby hands clenched into fists and he moaned as a climax hit him. “UHHH! YEAH!” He panted briefly, zipped up, and handed three THC candies to the girl under the table. He instructed, “Go to your room and tell one of your friends to see me after supper, Shawanda.” As she wiped her mouth and walked out, he asked Diego, “What were we talking about again?”

“The department’s problems and what we can do about them. I’ve toured the orphanage and the new children’s home, and I have some ideas for improvements. Nearly all the customers are men and most boys don’t want to provide gay sex. If we change the advertising from an old man surrounded by girls in swimsuits to something more tasteful, more romantic, you could get many more female customers. Other than snacks and being excused from school, the teens don’t get any benefit from your whorephan program. The participation rate is only nine percent. You should offer them rewards.”

“Rewards would cost money we don’t have. The government slashed next year’s budget in half!”

Diego scratched his ear a bit with his flamboyant hat and replied, “It wouldn’t cost that much, compared to the benefits. How much more would you make if the participation rate was 80 percent instead of nine?”

“Eighty percent!”

“Actually, 82 at the last county I worked for. Make the teens WANT to do it. Throw a party and give them alcohol, cigarettes, and weed. Since the age limit was lowered to 14 and law enforcement doesn’t even waste their time handing out tickets anymore, show the kids what being drunk and high is like for a weekend, or even a week. Afterward, sell them beer, cigarettes, and pot when they have money and tell them how much they can make as sex workers. The orphanage and children’s home will keep the usual three quarters of the proceeds, of course. You could even double the prices on all the things the teens buy from you. It’s not like they can leave and drive to a store. Just the price gouging could get you an extra million a year.”

Glen suddenly smiled at the prospect of large profits, and the adviser continued, “You should start a rating system, too. Ask customers to rate them one to five stars. Five-star horny hotties will get to do pretty much anything they want until it’s time for their next customer, but one-star slackers are restricted to only classes, the cafeteria, and their bedroom. The teens will be happier and perform much better if they WANT to do it.”

Glen thought a short while and replied, “I like a lot of those ideas. I wish we could add a brothel wing to the orphanage, but there’s no space there. Most customers wouldn’t like the idea of screwing in the bedrooms, in front of a bunch of strangers. Some of the cheap beds there aren’t even strong enough to support two people.”

Diego smiled his clever smile again, “I have a solution for that too. You start a ‘Foster Date’ program. For a large fee you let people take a boy or girl home and have fun with them for a day, three days, or however long they pay for. Rename the facilities, too. ‘Whorephan Home’ and ‘Whorephanage’ would sound much better in the new ads.”

“Hmmmm, some of that’s a bit radical but might work. Let’s make the arrangements and give your ideas a try.”

Rachel Sullivan was only wearing her new training bra and panty briefs as she turned slowly in front of the camera. She thought the lambs and ducklings on them were very childish. She didn’t see much point to the bra either, since she only had small swellings beneath her little nipples. She wondered to herself, ‘Who needs a bra to hold up a pair of strawberries?’

The lady on the screen was her new friend Marie, who asked her, “I hope you like the clothes I sent?”

She glanced at the kittens and puppies printed on the new pink dress on her bed and replied. “Thanks for sending them. I guess they’re cute, Marie, but I’m not five. I turned 14 last month.”

“You’re very pretty. I know my husband Randy will love the way you look, trust me. He gets hot for tiny boobs and flat butts like yours.”

Rachel asked, “You’re married? You only look 17?”

Marie took a deep breath and mournfully said, “That’s the problem. Since I’ll be 19 soon, he says I’m getting too old. Even you are a little older than he really wants, but any girls under 14 would be against the law. If we get you a lot of ‘little kid’ style clothes, I think you can keep him happy for a few years. When you get too old for him, we’ll get you a younger sister.”