In the private quarters of her trainer

The room was not very big and dimly lit. It was dominated by a large desk in the middle, a woman in her forties sitting behind it. She was working on a computer screen and didn't pay any attention at all to the entering of the trolley.

I was just lying there, spread across the two bars of the trolley, waiting for something to happen. The only sounds that broke the silence were the clicks of her mouse.

Finally she got up and walked up to me. She wore a black corset, suspenders, stockings and high heels, but she moved around on them without any effort. She untied me from the trolley and pointed me to an empty space in front of the desk, and simply said: "Kneel". I obeyed. She sat down behind the desk again and leaned forward.

She smiled when she spoke to me.

"Welcome to the program. My name is Sylvia, and I am your trainer. So, I want to make sure you understand what you are here for, and I will ask you some questions... will that be ok?"

I nodded, still slightly overwhelmed by the speed of events.

"Good. So tell me what happened in august 2034?"

"The disease started."

"Very good. And what did the disease do?"

"It killed all the men. Before october they were all gone."

"All of them?"

"No, the President survived."

"Well of course he wasn't the President yet, but yeah, you're right. No one knows why, but he remained healthy, never was sick for a day. And all of a sudden, he was the only man left with four billion women around him... and the only hope for the survival of mankind. So tell me, what did it mean?"

"It meant that he would have to be the father of every child born. That he should get as many women as possible pregnant. That the human race depended on his loins."

"Exactly. And since the technical processing of his sperm, artificial insemination, simply didn't work, he had to fuck as many girls as he could. But he obviously couldn't fuck four billion girls... you have to understand that the average man before the disaster had sex about two or three times a week. Currently the President has an average of 5.3 ejaculations every day. Can you tell me how this is possible?"

"The program was created. An elite selection of girls is trained to arouse him and maximize the chance of getting pregnant."

"That's right. And you should be proud indeed to be selected for the program. So, what do you already know about how this is done?"

"We must learn to be DASHA... disciplined, available, submissive, horny, and agile."

"Exactly. You must take those letters to your heart and live them every day, and you are here to learn how to do that. Even now it is unlikely that you will ever even meet him... there are over two hundred thousand girls in the program around the globe, and that's still way too much to all get fucked. But you should still prepare for that day, compete for all the difficult exams and selections that are ahead, and be as ready as you can if it ever comes."

None of this was news for me, it had been taught to all the girls since elementary school. I had wanted to join the program desperately, was lucky to be judged pretty enough, dieted and gymed throughout my entire youth to meet the physical requirements, and made the mental mindset which was endlessly tested in ever harder exams my own. I had kept my belt as all the other girls around me lost it, one by one. Yet today, at my eighteenth birthday, all that knowledge felt different somehow. As if... it was landing somewhere in me, receiving a practical meaning matching the theory it had been until now.

She had observed me as I pondered these thoughts. When I looked up, she smiled at me.

"Yes, it's quite something, isn't it? You have worn your belt to the end, and today we shall see if you can live up to the high expectations we have of you. So far, we could only test four of the DASHA letters... but today, we will see about the most important one... the H. We have some indications of course... but we could never be sure. Now it is time to test you for that. Are you ready?"