That thought, of course, inevitably led to the mental image of breeding her for real.
Just the thought of sucking her full tits while she rode his cock made his shaft surge again. He could just imagine her straddling him, her soft little pussy stretched to the limit as she took in not only his shaft but his mating fist as well.
All his life, V had been extra careful to withhold his mating fist any time he had sex with a female. He knew perfectly well that if he let his fist enter a female at the same time he was stinging her, he would form a permanent soul bond and he had never wanted that before.
Now he wanted it—wanted it badly, he admitted to himself. But it was clear that Penelope had no interest in such things. In fact, she’d barely agreed to work with him to get out of this sick place. He would have to win her over, have to woo her slowly, starting with getting her to let him suck her ripe nipples and ease the tension in her full breasts…
Gods! And his cock was surging again. Damn, how he wanted her!
V wished he could go to the fresher and jerk off to get rid of the intense sexual tension that plagued him, but of course that was impossible since he still wore the copper non-contact bracelets on his wrists. He could handle his shaft enough to take a piss at least—that was good. But the minute he started stroking it, he got a nasty jolt of pain which seemed to travel from his own fingertips to his cock.
It was like he was electrocuting his junk, every time he tried to jerk off which was, to say the least, no fucking fun. So he had to grin and bear the sexual tension and—
“Worker V’rex, your trimming of the fleezum trees today is not optimal!”
The high, androgynous voice belonged to Supervisor Poone, the NeverBreeder who ran the greenhouse where V had been assigned to work.
“What?” Irritated, he looked down at the little orange bastard and then up to the tree he’d been trimming as he thought about Penelope.
Sure enough, the previously perfectly round sphere of greenish-turquoise leaves was now markedly lopsided where V had been trimming it.
“Sorry,” V growled, glaring at the NeverBreeder supervisor. “Didn’t mean to do that.”
“Fix it!” the little orange NeverBreeder demanded. “Or I, Supervisor Poone, will be forced to put a black mark on your record! And may I remind you that three black marks equals automatic recycling?”
The threat made V angry—and also brought to mind the awful things Penelope had told him at First Meal. Over bowls of bland porridge made of blanched svetty grain, she’d told him that all the meat in the Compound was actually the flesh of recycled breeders.
V didn’t actually know if he believed it. Penelope had claimed she’d gotten the information second hand from her friend at the Breeding and Conception Center, who was also immune to the hypno-whispers. It seemed too evil, even for that bastard the “Glorious Leader,” to believe that he was actually feeding the dead bodies of recycled breeders to the living ones. But still, what if it was true?
The thought turned V’s stomach and the little orange bastard threatening to essentially turn V himself into steaks and chops pissed him off.
I’ll turn you into tomorrow’s Last Meal if you fuck with me, you little orange mutant! he thought, still glaring at Supervisor Poone. What an overbearing little asshole!
And while he was thinking these things, the NeverBreeder was still lecturing.
“Do you not know that the Glorious Leader himself comes to the greenhouse on a regular basis to inspect?” he was ranting in his high, androgynous voice. “What will he think if he sees a fleezum tree that is trimmed in such a lopsided manner?”
His words jogged V’s memory of what he’d been planning and he looked with interest at the little NeverBreeder.
“I’ve never seen him here and I’ve been working at the greenhouse a whole solar week,” he pointed out, frowning.
“Which only means he is overdue for an inspection!” the NeverBreeder supervisor exclaimed. “He will be here sometime this week—I can guarantee it! And if he sees what you have done to this fleezum tree—”
“Keep your tiny silver jumpsuit on,” V growled. “I’ll fix it—I’ll fix it!”
“See that you do!” Supervisor Poone shook a stubby orange finger in his face—or tried to, anyway. He was mostly shaking his finger at V’s abs. “Now, I am off to put a black mark on your record. You had better be careful, Worker V’rex or you will find yourself recycled.”
And with that, he flounced off, presumably to write a full-length report on how V had trimmed a tree the wrong way and ought to be made into hamburger for it.
“I’ll recycle you with my fist, you little asshole,” V muttered at the retreating supervisor. But he went to work, making the damn fleezum tree symmetrical again so that it matched the rows and rows of other fleezum trees with their perfectly round tops and long gray-green trunks disappearing into large, earthenware pots.
As he worked with his hands, his mind was forming and refining the plan which had first occurred to him the night before when he was speaking to Penelope.
So the GL was going to be here sometime this week, hmm? Well when he came, V would be ready for him.
Forty-Four
“Good morning, ladies! How is everyone on this beautiful day in the Compound?” Mother Toone asked brightly as they all stood in the perfectly manicured public park.
Penny had been surprised to see their attendant from the Breeding and Conception Center waiting to greet her and the other women who had just been joined to their Forever Mates. But the NeverBreeder had explained that she was free to help out in
