You and your two best friends, Sally and Brandon, wait along with the rest of your class. All eyes are fixated on the big screens, all breathe is held. Let me get over 90, let me get over 90, you hear Sally chanting to herself in a whisper. Meanwhile you can only hope to be above the dreaded Thirtieth Percentile. You begin to shake as the numbers start to appear. You had never been good in school. Try as you might you could just never pay attention. Even the horror stories your parents told you about boys who didn't make the cut couldn't keep you on your studies. Suddenly you see your name. You have to force your eyes to pan over to the number beside it. "Eightie Ninth percentile," Brandon shouts in glee beside you. Meanwhile you are looking at a 19. Brandon and Sally follow your eyes and some of your palor spreads to their faces.
"Dude, I thought you said you studied all month."
"I did...I mean I tried." Sally who had always helped you out with classes slid a comforting arm around your shoulder. "Don't worry Brandon...I hear the life of an Omega really isn't that bad...once you go through the transgenic process you might actually like it...I know my omegas d.." She stops herself, girls are not supposed to talk to boys about their personal servants.
You can't help yourself and begin to cry. You aren't the only one doing so in the crowd. Sally hugs you tight trying to console you but it is useless.
A voice on the loudspeaker hushes all other sounds, "Congratulations to all our students. Now please file out the doors so we can sepparate you into your potential groups." You look over the crowd to see students passing by school administrators, each armed with a scanner. You then glance down at your hand where the identification chip is buried. There was no turning back now, had you run away before you might have stood a slim chance, now there was none. Sally gave you one last consoling look, "maybe you'll get lucky Brandon, maybe I'll buy you." The realization that your best friend has so quickly started to view you as a commodity sinks your heart. Brandon gives you one last wave, "by dude...err good luck I guess," and disappears into the crowd. You are left alone slowly being pushed by the flow of the crowd and your destiny.
When you finally reach the administraters you watch the scanner approach with dread. It passes over your hand and gives a disgruntled beep. The entire way the teacher views you changes, its as if she's now looking down on something less than herself, "to the left with the other omegas." With no other choice you follow her direction and walk down a dark corridor. As you proceed you hear racing foot steps. Another failure runs past you desperate for escape but drops as a tazer dart slams into his back. He falls to the ground shaking, spit foaming from his mouth. "Move along," says one of the guards who catches you staring. Immediately you quicken your pace.
At the end of the hall sits a tall imposing door. A line of subpar students stands in front of it, waiting for admittance. About every five minutes the door opens and another student is cycled in. Where they go after that you can only guess. After about an hour's wait you find yourself facing the door and the uknown beyond. "Whats... in there?"
"Your aptitude test," replies the guard tersely. You notice she's also a women, like all the other guards. Perhaps, you think, only women are allowed to get so close to what will be the next crop of female servants.
"But...I thought I already took it?"
The guard laughs, "oh this is a different test, its a... psychological test, to see what type of role you are best suited for." It was all very mysterious. Sure you knew that many of your friends, even Sally, had omegas in their service, but it was taboo to even talk about them with boys. Since you never saw them though you had to assume they remained at the girls' homes at all times. Your albeit below average brain is pondering the possibilities when the door opens. The guard guides you inside with an uncomfortable prod off her baton. Beyond you see a terrifying chair, complete with restrants and bars. It faces a large holo-screen. Behind you, the door slamming is like the death toll on your old life. You would never see your friends or family again except maybe as their slave...
Another guard guides you into the chair, restraints are pulled tight and wrist bands locked in place. Some sort of device is ratcheted down over your head. It is domed, connected to an artery of wires and hums faintly. "Brain scan online, mam," you hear a voice say behind you. As the guard checks the restraints a scientist stands over you and shines a bright light into each eye. The way she looks at you as she does it makes you feel less like a human and more like some kind of lab experiment. "Pupillary response active, we're ready begin the feed." She then steps away and the holo-tube lights up. Three dimensional images bombard your brain. Oddly enough all are of parts of the female body, some old, some young, some tan, some pale, some fat, some thin. The display holds back no detail in its rapid overview of female anatomy. You see vaginas without hair, with thick bushes and shaved. You see feet; some with toes pretty and painted, some with crows feet, and others young and soft. You see breasts and nipples of all types too; some dark with wide nipples, some pale and veiny, some sagging, some round and luscious, some non existant. You even see rear ends; some pickled with cellulite, others athletic and firm, others small and soft; some are even spread showing you anuses of all types from brown trenches to tight pink buttons.
Of all these erotic images hurled at you, the ones you can't help admiring are...  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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