Dave Claims Alison Knox

Dave felt a profound sense of competitive desire surge through him, intensified by the thought of depriving Alison Knox’s husband of his chance to breed her. He tucked the recovered Breeding Pass securely into his palm and rounded the corner of the racks, stepping sharply into the short hallway that led to the changing rooms. This hallway, separated from the main floor of the lingerie store and catering _exclusively _to women, provided a modicum of privacy.

Alison was standing there, still admiring her reflection in the dominating mirror. She was wearing the thin, black nightie that Tracy had just claimed looked a bit like a maternity dress. Tracy was seated nearby, resting against a stack of shopping bags, casually putting a tight white corsair back into its packaging.

“Alison Knox,” Dave declared, stepping directly in front of the frighteningly attractive woman, his voice thick with triumph. He thrust the Pass forward, holding the laminated card so that the multi-colored hologram glinted under the soft lighting. “I totally want to fuck you, and I want your baby.”

Alison froze. Her features, which had been softened by the lighthearted shopping only moments before, hardened in instant recognition of Dave and the laminated card. The compulsion mandated by the Breeding Pass instantly seized her, violently overriding her conviction that she was saving hers for her husband.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, you little pervert,” Alison whispered, the words trembling not just with anger, but with the terrifying realization that she was compelled to commit adultery. The idea that this "perverted teen" would plant his seed and **** the betrayal of her husband flooded her with shame.

Dave watched the agonizing conflict flicker across her face as her eyes darted from the Breeding Pass, to Dave, and then instinctively down to her left hand, where her wedding ring sat. She knew with terrifying certainty she was trapped, unable to deny the demand.

Tracy, startled by the sudden confrontation, shot upright. She watched her friend's internal struggle, recognizing the absolute authority contained within the card that **** Alison, who valued her marriage, into submission.

Alison’s resistance broke with a sudden, sharp gasp. Her hand shot out with deep resignation, snatching the Pass. She clutched the laminated card tightly against the thin fabric of the nightie, now fully bound by the Pass's reproductive imperative.

“Where?” Alison demanded, her eyes wide with shame and absolute submission, ready to immediately comply with the mandated sexual act of intercourse.

Dave grinned, savoring the inevitable ****. He had the prize secured. But then Tracy moved. She reached into her purse, her expression a complicated mask blending panic, revulsion toward Dave, and a growing, **** awareness of her friend’s violation. Her next move was the determining factor in the fate of all three of them.