Down a guilt-ridden path

“Like this…?” Jesse was on his knees, down on the floor beneath Daniel’s desk. Between the legs of the man who had effectively been his closest thing to a parent for the past five years of his life. Daniel had always been there for him. Always happy to make time and talk when Jesse, or any of the others needed it. Every matron had several groups of youths under their guidance, at varying points of ageing. This allowed them to oversee the teens as they grew up until they finally flew the nest… and claim some degree of the rewards that inevitably came with this.

Daniel was beginning to see why the algorithm had put Jesse in with Betsy. Why it had scored the lithe and pretty boy so highly. Everything was plotted out. Everything was done for a reason. As the teen wrapped his soft hands around the older man’s penis and looked up at him with those timid, round eyes it was obvious… No-one could resist the urge to defile someone so pure and self-doubting, yet beautiful beyond words. Jesse poked out his tongue experimentally and let it just lightly touch the swollen shaft, not able to bring himself to taste the bulbous, purple head just yet.

Two whole sets of young men and ladies had left Daniel’s care by now, all directed off to be playthings or painters or breeding factories at the whim of the invisible **** that controlled all their lives. He loved each and every one of the kids who came into his hands. Loved watching them grow into the complex adults they were going to be. But, he was no less under the sway of that artificial mind than any of them. It knew that this was what he loved doing… and knew that he guiltily loved the bit that came next most of all. For the youths didn’t leave immediately upon coming of age. They stayed for several more years, while further ‘vocational’ education was given. Apprenticeships worked through. New talents found. And, all the while... he would be there. Offering further support. Helping with homework assignments. Enjoying the fruits of a varied orchard’s labour.

Further to that… every matron was required to go down to the breeding pits once a month. Just to muddle in the possibility, however slight… That one or two of these young people might be his own offspring. Would the algorithm purposefully ensure that? Would it utilise plausible **** as a hanging threat or perverse reward or just plain old fucked-up experiment? He had honestly no idea. There was so much it seemed capable of. So much that once might have seemed impossible that anyone would agree to. Yet every generation he raised was just carved out and sent off in the images set for them, perfectly content to become what was asked of them… even when what was asked of them was not to seem content. Jesse’s doubts were put there on purpose, of that Daniel was now certain.