Frail bodies strained frantically against each other, clutching
fingers pressing white pad-prints into new, pristine flesh. Blush,
baby-soft lips locked tight on a raw-looking nipple, sucking so
vociferously that the obscene sound could be heard by the men on
the other side of the glass.
“Is it hungry?”
The scientist shifted from foot to foot with a hip-shimmy that
the man assumed was meant to be inconspicuous. “No,”
he said. “It’s doing what it was bred to do.”
“At this age? They couldn’t be more than…what?
Thirteen? Fourteen?” He turned his attention back to the stark
room, finding the pair housed therein hypnotically compelling.
“Two weeks, actually,” the scientist crowed. “You
saw the new hatchlings.”
The man shuddered, remembering the scene inside an enormous incubator
in another wing of the facility. There’d been over a dozen
embryonic hatchlings when he’d arrived an hour ago, and one
less when he’d been ushered out, his mind boggling at the
orgy of incest and cannibalism.
Slightly bigger than its…mate? Brother? The one with dark
hair and brows – implants the scientist had explained –
was pinning the other, still completely hairless, hatchling to the
cement floor. The hairless one’s struggles were unconvincing,
half-hearted at best.
“Can they speak?”
As if to punctuate his inquiry, the hairless thing climaxed with
a shrill cry, shuddering its release into the lush mouth of its…mate.
“They can be taught to. It’s not always necessary,
Shaking his head, the man hurried to explain, “That’s…I
don’t want them for that.”
“It’s not The Institute’s policy to ask.”
The man opened his mouth to object to the scientist’s insinuation
then snapped it quickly closed. He couldn’t afford to cause
offense. The man had searched fruitlessly for so long, and this
pair…His eyes drifted back to the room, where the hatchlings
were now wrapped almost lovingly in each other’s slender,
Cooing sounds issued from the larger one, the thick, glossy hair
on top of its pretty head strangely incongruent with the immature
body and organ its sated mate absently stroked. After a moment more
it pushed the pink-skinned head down, forcing it to take the stiff
cock between curvaceous lips.
Having obviously warmed up to the idea of a nap, the bald one fought
briefly but energetically before it then began to suckle with genuine
enthusiasm. The bigger one thrust rapidly into its mouth and, grunting
incoherently, came quickly.
The man seen enough to know stamina wasn’t the hatchlings’
strong suit, but they made up admirably in their recuperative facility.
“How fast will they mature?” He asked, watching the
bigger one, vibrant green eyes heavy lidded and skin charmingly
flushed, push the smaller hatchling rudely away, curling towards
the cinder-block wall for a restorative nap of its own.
“I shouldn’t think you’d want them to mature
too quickly,” the scientist offered his opinion uninvited,
but of course he was right. “They’ll be fully grown
in another week, and we can add as much body hair as you like.”
The hairless one sat, dejected, gazing at the other’s firm
buttocks while it fingered itself lewdly. The man wanted to look
away, but when it threw its head back, long throat exposed and the
curve of its fragile skull catching the light, he caught his breath
at its strange beauty.
The sound of a bolt being released echoed through the room, bringing
the big, pretty one to full attention. It scuttled across the floor
to inspect the dinner trays left by a large, muscle-bound man whose
brawny good looks seemed somehow familiar.
“Don’t I know him…?” he wondered aloud
before catching himself.
The scientist chuckled knowingly. “Rod is one of our early
successes and was very popular. He’s too old now to do the
job he was bred for, but continues to be a productive member of
Rod flashed him a bright-white smile as he passed through the room.
“Can they be made to forget their experiences here?”
he quickly asked, eager to change the subject. “Made to behave
The scientist looked at him as if he’d grown two heads and
was in need of a thorough dissecting. Beyond him, the pearly-skinned
hatchling was cautiously approaching its mate from behind. Engrossed
in feeding, the other seemed oblivious to its presence.
“But why would you want that?” he asked, agitated.
“They’re perfect as they are – the finest specimens
The Institute’s ever produced!”
A clatter sounded from the observation room as the bald one pounced,
wrapping deceptively wispy arms tightly around a golden torso and
humping vigorously between the round globes of its ass. It came
in splatters across the thrashing back with a piercing, wordless
cry that echoed off the walls.
The man tore his eyes away, smiling at the oblivious scientist
soothingly. “Of course they are, and I’ll pay what you
ask and more if you can teach them to pass in normal society. Teach
them to talk, and-” he waved towards the pair, where the bigger
one’s forearm was now pumping, hidden, under its prone body
as its back was licked clean by the other’s pink, mobile tongue,
“to refrain from doing…that.”
Suddenly, a brilliant thought occurred to the man. “Can you
make them straight?!”
“No!” It was an unequivocal exclamation.
The man leveled a silent and challenging stare until the scientist
“It hasn’t ever been tried,” he finally conceded,
looking somewhat more interested. “I can’t guarantee
the reconditioning would hold.”
The man nodded. Provided The Institute could subvert enough of
the hatchlings in-bred inclinations, their purchase (would leasing
be an option?) was a forgone conclusion. They’d been searching
too long for boys like these to let the opportunity pass.
“I need photos before I decide for sure. To show my partner.”
The request was really only a smart bargaining ploy.
The scientist smirked. “That’s Marketing’s department.
I’m sure they have video they could provide. Video’s
much better for the ‘money shots’,” he added knowledgably.
The man shook his head emphatically. “Really, all I need
are a couple of headshots. Can we get shirts on them? And showers?”
The men regarded the pair in the next room silently. Limp and apparently
(finally!) sated, they were a twisted mass of arms and legs,
their food and come-coated skin glowing with sweat and youthful
vigor. As they watched, the raven-haired hatchling tilted his head
up, requesting and receiving a chaste kiss from its mate. It was
unexpectedly tender and this time the man was compelled to
“Hmm. That’s very unusual,” the scientist observed,
clearly intrigued. “Typically they have to be taught to kiss;
it’s not an innate behavior. That’s why they often seem
so unnatural when they do.”
The man looked at the scientist with narrowed eyes, but remained
They’d have to be kept apart as much as possible, to prevent
backsliding. A wife, perhaps? Was it possible? He wondered…
This had to work.
Sliding into his car, the man cranked up the air conditioning against
a blistering Tijuana sun, letting the car idle as he examined the
still-tacky photos The Institute had developed on-site for him.
A pair of criminally pretty boys stared back at him with bright,
bird-like eyes, their softly sheened mouths lushly pornographic
in innocent repose. It had taken their handlers half an hour (and
a rainbow of glittered confetti) to distract them from each other’s
bodies for long enough to capture the single shot, but it was perfect.
They were perfect. Girls, aged 12 to infinity, would eat
He tossed the photos on the passenger seat and maneuvered out of
the parking lot, the building’s discreet signage growing smaller
in his mirrors:
He fumbled in haste to dial his cell, humming a bass-heavy thread
he suspected had been dredged from his memory by his recent Rod
Rockhard sighting while he waited impatiently for his partner to
“Miles, it’s Al. I’ve found our stars.”