Moon captive alphas, p.2
Moon: Captive Alphas, page 2
“I hope not,” Mama mumbled. Her words confused me but I didn’t have time to ask anything else because she took my hand and said, “Ice cream, sweetie? It’s a hot day.”
“Yes, please! Mama, can I get chocolate?”
“You can have anything you want, dear. Anything at all.”
That’s what she always said to me when she wanted me to smile and be happy. So I gave her a big grin and hopped up and down, yanking hard on her arm. She didn’t seem to mind, though. She kept walking, not looking at the castle anymore, moving on the sidewalk past the gate faster now so I had to run to keep my hand clenched in hers.
I stole one more look over my shoulder at the magnificent castle. It gleamed so brightly it stung my eyes. The huge yard beyond the gate was filled with pretty trees and yellow flowers. Everything smelled so good and new. A blue path led up to wide stairs and a massive blue, double door.
How lucky those alpha kings were to live there.
*
Thirteen years later…
My appointment at the fertility clinic was in an hour. Both my parents had stayed home from work today to be with me. They knew, even after my five years of omega classes to prepare me for a life of continual pregnancies, I was nervous.
Daddy said, “You’re eighteen now, Kaydi. You should be proud you’re doing your duty to society.” He spoke firmly, but his eyebrows narrowed in worry.
Mama stood across the room from us with her arms over her chest looking sad and old today.
Ever since I presented as an omega at the age of thirteen, my life centered around that and only that as my identity. If I’d been born a girl, my existence as a beta for life would have been confirmed at birth. But males had to wait. We were born betas, but might manifest in our teens as either of the two secondary genders: alpha and omega. Or we might remain a beta for the rest of our lives. Then, depending on which one we were, our future reflected that role.
Every male hoped to remain a beta, and chances were in our favor. Only one in seven of us became omegas. Alphas were even rarer. One in twenty might manifest as alpha. Those percentages were going down with each generation.
Betas were the ruling class, and they had the most freedom to be whatever they wanted. They were all sterile, male and female alike, so they didn’t have to focus on things like bearing children to maintain the human population. They could marry for love. They could adopt the babies we omegas were forced to have and give away. Only betas could form regular families like the one that raised me. Only betas could have a career of their choice.
I wanted to be like my parents who loved each other very much. But that didn’t happen. Deep inside me, my boy body had grown a womb. I was a child-bearer and that was that. My identity allowed for nothing else in a society where procreation had to be regimented for humans to survive into future generations.
From age thirteen on, I was instructed in online, omega-only classes about my duty to society and what that entailed. As an omega, I was guaranteed a life pension. I would never have to get a job. I would always be cared for because most of the prime of my life I would spend pregnant and alone. For it was forbidden for us to marry. And we were not allowed to ever see our children, let alone raise them.
Our job was to incubate fetuses.
The more we brought healthy babies to term, the better life could be for us. We got bonuses for having twins. We got pretty things, clothes and jewelry, and were allowed to stroll about town in our elegant finery and with our big bellies and be waited on hand and foot.
But we were not allowed to be touched by another. We omegas were literally having virgin births, artificially inseminated with alpha semen from the Hall of Alphas.
It had been a long, long time ago, it seemed, when I first saw that castle in Grand Park. It had seemed so fancy and dreamy to my young eyes, and I’d fantasized many times of entering that place even though Mama told me it was not something I should think about.
Now, it was as if that place was going to enter me even though I’d never set foot inside. I had resigned myself to being an omega, but it was not the life I wanted.
To be pregnant for most of my fertile life, to give birth to babies and never see them—all the fancy clothes and apartments aside—felt like torture to me. I would never bond or marry. I would always be alone. Despite all my online classes that prepared me for this life, I had trouble accepting who I was. It seemed like slavery. No, worse. Rape and slavery.
“I don’t want to go.” I turned away from my parents, my eyes heating, and put my head down, knowing I was being a bad citizen.
“You have to,” Daddy said, and gently put his arms around me. “If you break the law you get prison time.”
“Sometimes I think it would be better to be locked away.” I looked to Mama for confirmation of my defiance.
“No, baby. They would inseminate you anyway in prison and you would be pregnant and even more alone.” Her soft voice fell over the room like a dim shadow. “We wouldn’t get to see you.”
“I don’t care.” My eyes filled because actually I did care. I had hated all my omega classes but had rarely complained. I really didn’t want to be a bad person and not do my duty to society. I loved my parents and never wanted them to hurt for me.
“But we all know you do care.” Daddy spoke quietly in my ear.
He was right, of course.
The living room blurred, changing every perspective of the house where I had grown up feeling safe and cared for. I blinked away the tears and now everything looked sharp and cold.
Inside my chest, things tightened and re-formed, my core reflecting the outside world which had drawn a tight little box of limits around me. I had lived the last five years in denial. I put my eighteenth birthday out of my mind. I kept telling myself some miracle would happen. I fantasized my parents might come up with a magical plan to intervene. Somehow, I’d fall through the cracks as not viable or otherwise unwanted to complete my omega duties for the government of Lua.
But the summons came within a week of my birthday. I was officially a breeder. I had no choice but to report to the Lua Fertility Clinic in downtown. Today was my appointment. It was a serious breach of the law if I did not show up on time for my first assessment.
There was nothing I could do. I had no choice in the matter. I wouldn’t have a choice for the rest of my child-bearing years. That meant the government would attempt to get as many pregnancies out of me for a minimum of thirty years, possibly more. Worse, I would never be able to keep any of my children, or ever get to know them.
My parents were not trying to be mean to me. They were simply doing what they always did, steering me toward right and away from wrong.
Heavy resignation took over.
I pulled away from Daddy’s embrace and, without a word, went to my bedroom and shut and locked the door.
Taking a deep breath, my lungs quivering, I faced the full length mirror on my bathroom door.
My blond hair fell straight around my ears and eyes. I usually styled it in a backward wave. It was a silvery pale shade that caught all the cold colors of any room I walked into. It was quite pretty. I was quite pretty.
I’d seen my friends’ mouths drop in envy when I walked into a room. The small group of four I’d hung out with were all betas, all kids I’d known earlier in my life before I’d been taken out of public school, and they took their gender for granted. They didn’t know how lucky they were. My only life, after eighteen, would be a restricted and fated plan that left no recourse for me. I’d never hold a real job. I’d never have a family of my own. I’d never know love.
I grabbed a can of hairspray from my dresser and finger-styled my hair up from my forehead, giving the locks little twists. Then I changed into shiny white vinyl trousers and a loud, pink-striped button up shirt with a crisp, pointed collar. I added a bright aqua scarf just to punish the eyes a little more.
It was a cliché omega trait to dress flamboyantly. My parents often disapproved of my clothing color choices. But after I was taken from public school, I’d decided I wasn’t going to hide myself away just because they wanted me to be proper and humble. I wanted to stand out. I wanted to shout that I existed.
Everything fit me well. I had a lithe and perfect form. Like most omegas, my DNA created me smaller than betas and alphas, and gave me a body and face to be coveted. In nature, this was necessary and would attract an alpha mate. Which was worthless in modern times.
Escaping my hasty hairstyle, strands of blond bangs brushed at my eyes, but otherwise I looked impeccable.
I wanted to be perfect. What else did I have to live for? I grudgingly decided I would hold my head high. I had to do what needed to be done and keep my mouth shut.
I had to make this easy on myself and not rock too many boats. Otherwise, I’d be fighting a miserable uphill battle my whole life.
I glanced at my phone’s clock and saw I needed to go.
I left my bedroom and strode past Mama and Daddy and my little sisters, who were quietly watching TV. They were five, identical twins, and didn’t comprehend what was happening to their older omega brother. They were lucky. As girls, they never had to worry about becoming omegas.
Mama stood by the door, her purse in hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’ve decided to drive you downtown, baby.” She blinked sorrowful eyes at me. She loved me very much. I knew this. But all I saw in her gaze was pity.
“No. I have to do this by myself.” Just because I was a home-schooled omega for the past five years didn’t mean was a shut-in baby. I had stricter curfews than most kids my age, and was forbidden to date, but I knew how to drive. I knew how to be on my own.
“It’s a big day. Very overwhelming. Why don’t you let your mother drive you?” Daddy said.
I turned toward the door, away from them, and grabbed the keys to their car which were sitting on a little wooden table. Just like any kid, I’d learned to drive at age sixteen. I knew the town well. I knew where I was supposed to go. “No. I’m no longer a child. I’ll go myself.”
Before they could say another word, I opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.
Chapter Three
Moon
Dayon went to one of the sleek, chrome milking machines that stood against the far wall and flipped the on switch. It looked like a refrigerator without a door.
The machine hummed quietly to life.
There were three of these devices in the room. Sometimes all three were in use simultaneously on alphas strapped in and being milked. I’d shared this room before with two of my fifth floor neighbors, Cold and Deep. That’s how I found out how Deep got his name.
Deep, who was tall and golden and willowy, one of the most beautiful of alphas I’d ever seen, would inhale the omega scent filtered through the air ducts as if it were his last breath. He’d take the air deep, holding it, then explode with a sort of force that made the meaner beta guards laugh.
The effect was like a drug on him and he would start helping the machine along by wildly thrusting as best he could with the tight straps holding him in place. His body would shake and he’d moan aloud as the machine milked all it could from him.
I wondered how embarrassing it was for him, or if he, like so many others trapped here, didn’t care anymore. Not about life. Not about pleasure without the intoxication of the omega’s fragrant heat. Not about anything.
This was all we had, all our lives were for. Breeding.
Thinking about Deep’s eagerness made my skin heat up even more. The omega scent infected me. Ruined me so thoroughly that I barely fought much anymore.
I jerked my shoulders, trying to get Ragi and Dayon off me, but their grips on my arms tightened.
I wanted to go back to my room, but I wanted the machine, too. The first orgasms were always the most pleasurable, and my body betrayed my need for that as my cock swung hard and heavy and stiff.
I twisted to try to get away and felt a stinging smack to my left cheekbone.
Dayon laughed. “You want another, Moony-butt?”
He held his fist in my face and I recoiled. Not because I was weak but because I was always the loser in this game in every way.
“You want this, I can see it. Look at you.” Dayon made a motion with his fist toward my jutting cock and I tensed up. “Depraved and dripping. Your fucking alpha cock knows what it wants.”
My face heated.
In a proper world, asshole, you would be cleaning my boots with your tongue. You’d be my subservient slave by all nature’s rights, and with your bullying ways, a gelded one at that.
I shut my eyes and swallowed down the retort. I had screamed insults at Dayon before, only to be beaten bloody.
It was not supposed to happen, the beatings. This I had been told when I’d first arrived to the Hall at age fifteen. I was twenty-two now. When I’d complained through emails to the warden I would always get a response that video evidence showed I was combative and prone to violence. My responses on video no doubt always presented me as if I were looking for a fight. By the time my complaints reached the Beta Council who created all functionality and rules of the Hall, Dayon’s actions were always judged on record as self-defense.
Ragi stepped between us. “Dayon, just get the job done, will ya?”
Ragi never hit. He kept control through the proper protocol, never inciting, and only threatening to use his Taser if he had to. He never made fun of me. So far. In another world, I would let him keep his balls and tend to my chambers personally.
The two guards tugged me toward the machine. I hated this part the most, which was why I didn’t make it easy for them. My struggles had lessened after a couple years, but I still resisted. I’m not sure why. Maybe I still had some pride left after all.
I had to step up on a low platform and then be strapped in. But it wasn’t that easy. First, they had to line me up. Without the use of my tightly cuffed hands, one of them would have to guide me. Or, rather, guide my cock.
I shut my eyes as I stepped up, dreading Dayon’s touch. But Ragi quickly came forward and, with a gentle palm underneath my erection, barely touching, steered it into the already slick, smooth-as-leather tunnel.
He took his hand away quickly, and I opened my eyes. He did not look at me but proceeded to fasten the straps around my thighs and waist and upper back to hold me upright as the machine hummed around me. He strapped my cuffed wrists to a small, chest level shelf where I could rest them during this ordeal.
The black straps were thick, made to hold against an alpha’s extra strength which manifested when the body thought it was making a mating claim on an omega. The body didn’t care that a machine played the submissive part of the mating ritual. An alpha body kept producing the chemicals and pheromones of the mating urge as long as it knew it was being stimulated to reach orgasm after orgasm.
Before I could take another breath, Dayon flipped the milking switch with a loud bang of his fist.
The tunnel, oiled and soft as if to mimic a real omega’s hole and channel, tightened around my shaft. The inner walls then began to vibrate and inside the cushioned surfaces undulated like muscles contracting, drawing me in.
My balls drew up. The sensation was pleasant, I could not deny it. Slippery. Warm. Pressing and vibrating in all the right places. The most ingenious part of it all was some sort of pressure at the crown of my cock, a tickling touch accompanied by a sweet suction.
Even with the tight straps, my back arched. My toes curled through my thin slippers against the metal platform. My hands, strapped down, clenched to fists.
My head bent back. I sent my moans up toward the white ceiling. All around the fleecing room and edging up toward the ceiling were large, flat screen monitors flashing video pornography. That combined with the omega heat-scent was too much. My orgasm tore through me feeling like it ripped away everything I was.
It was good. So good, but it left me no identity, no emotion, no soul. I got nothing from it but the physiological ecstasy of release. No extra thoughts. No idea of life, or that I might be giving life. No hope. Nothing but an empty void where I was a star in the process of being extinguished from existence.
In a distance of light years, it seemed, I heard Dayon’s horrid laughter again. “The first one’s always so fast! Stupid rutting alphas.”
The machine was good. Too good. It kept milking me in such a way that I stayed in that void, never really coming all the way down, my alpha cock ready to give more during my most potent cycle.
Nature’s instinct. Make babies.
Voices echoed over me. Dayon and Ragi talked through my starless void to pass the time.
“Have you ever tried out one of these machines yourself?”
“Asshole, it’s forbidden!”
“Yeah, well that doesn’t keep some guards from finding ways.”
“Some say the machines are sacred. You would soil them with yourself?”
“No. I want to keep my job. But you hear rumors.”
“Rumors only.”
Their voices faded as my second orgasm hit, the tunnel undulating along my cock, teasing it out of me, the suction at the tip made up of a hidden mechanism that collected every drop of semen I squirted.
My heart pounded with the release. My knot began to form and the machine responded by expanding the tunnel around my cock to take it in, then squeezed it until it almost hurt but not quite. The knot responded to this by swelling even more.
Now I was locked into the device for real. Even though I was strapped in, I never felt more trapped than when my knot came and all I could do was shut my eyes and feel it slowly undulate along my shaft until it forced more and more sperm to release.
The machine collected every drop. I had heard guards say the machine tried to force knots as often as it could because the amount of semen collected from knotted ejaculations was copious enough for at least ten doses, which was good because sometimes it took omegas that many inseminations before they actually conceived.
