In things forgotten

"Maybe you were a corporate spy?" Betsy offered. "You were looking for some sort of secret data in a rival company and got caught…?"

They had turned guessing what crime the man might have committed into a game, of sorts. While below the continued mashing of their flesh together carried along casually, so as not to raise suspicion. Betsy found she simply couldn't be afraid of such a quiet, world-beaten shade of a man such as this… and was actually finding the chance to have a conversation that didn't revolve around babies or penises very refreshing. Her latest theory was a fairly good one too. Everyone knew the big corporations were forever sneaking agents into each other's operations… trying to pick up on whatever dirty deals and secret projects were being kept from public eyes. It would make sense that the punishments they dealt out when one was caught were more along the lines of just silencing and side-lining the man or woman in question. Mindwipes were not a perfect science, after all… they would want to keep an eye on those who had learned things they shouldn't.

It made the intelligent girl ponder a little more on her own instinctual abhorrence of those who stepped out of line in her world. Civilian crime as a concept was such a rarity these days, at least according to the statistics that were proudly displayed on every newscast for all to see. That even mention of it sent a shiver of fear through her… as if that was the first step back toward the bad, old days of war and **** and famines. The algorithm protected them for all that by giving those who might otherwise have such urges, safe and alternative routes to vent their frustrations. If you wanted to hurt someone, why… there was always someone who wanted to be hurt. Complete with self-managed pain receptors and the training to make sure they knew their own limits. It all worked. To the point where only big businesses really needed to hire their own private security firms in order to protect from each other. Even those dropouts and delinquents who refused to engage with society knew they couldn't step far out of line without finding themselves at the hands of squads of bored and sadistic 'Corpos'. Who had little better to do than trade insults with each other or chase down small time troublemakers when their company-provided playthings needed a rest.

"What's your name?" She asked, out of the blue. Realising that, if anything, her failure to acquire that had been the rudest part of their interaction.

However, the pained look came back across his face… telling her all she needed to know by way of answer. Throughout their exchange, the physical connection they were sharing communicated as much as the words. Even deep inside her, his manhood deflated with the confirmation that they had taken even that from him too… degrading his base humanity to just a uniform and half a purpose. Again, it made sense if he had found something he wasn't supposed to… Names could be traced, even if not written down.

She wondered how many slightly-addled, memory-less men and women like this one there were… dotted amongst the various offices and private holdings. Found small and repetitive tasks to do, despite the leagues of automated drones that made such things generally unnecessary. Her sharp mind even took note of the little inefficiencies. The clumsiness of some of the older maintenance machines… and wondered if they, too, were left operating for a reason. Everything in society was set up to provide fulfilment. It was what unlimited fulfilment meant, that was beginning to itch at her; with a belly full of semen and a head guiltily delighted to have a new puzzle to scratch upon.

"Well I'm going to call you 'Finder'" She declared. "Because I don't think you would've ended up here if you hadn't found what you were looking for…"

The older man smiled, at that small kindness. His young cumdump-of-the-moment feeling the slight, but real invigoration that it brought. It was true: at least he could be fairly convinced his original duty had been fulfilled… to still be being punished for it. Between the two of them, a final, concerted push was made. Pouring their newly made acquaintance together, until Betsy’s inner passages were once again doused with another small quantity of sticky success. Their task together was complete, at least for today… and each could lie back and bask in the warmth of that. Perhaps even believing that that deposit, among all the others so far… would be the one to produce her first child.