In the gleaming spires of 2600, where women ruled every corridor of power, Ashley adjusted her black-rimmed glasses and leaned back in her examiner's chair, the leopard-print blouse straining against her ample cleavage. Michael entered wearing the mandated thin pajama pants that clung like a second skin, his every twitch on display. "Michael, thirty and eager to know your place," she said with a sharp smile, her pedicured toes flexing in open-toed heels. "Most men can't keep their eyes where they belong—let's see if you're any different." He met her gaze steadily at first, but the low cut of her blouse tested him, and she noted the subtle hardening beneath the fabric. "Eye contact is the first filter, darling. Fail that and the rest is just paperwork."
"You seem confident for someone who decides fates with a glance," Michael replied, his voice steady but edged with tension. Ashley chuckled, crossing her legs to draw his attention. "Confidence is earned, not assumed. Tell me, what makes a man think he's alpha material in a world built by women?" Their banter sharpened as she probed indirectly—questions about loyalty, desire, control—while his cock stirred visibly against the thin pants, growing hard despite his efforts. "You're sweating already," she observed, voice low and teasing. "Horny or just nervous?"
"Both, perhaps," he admitted with a wry grin. "But I won't beg for designation." Ashley rose, her brunette bun impeccable, and gestured to the medical chair. "Then let's confirm. A quick check-up—blood pressure, reflexes. Alphas stand tall; betas bend." She suspected beta from the first glance, her 100% record unbroken, and guided him forward with firm hands. Ankles and wrists secured, she pulled down the pajama pants, exposing him. "Relax. This determines everything."
Gloved in black latex, she applied lube and pressed a finger to his ass, circling before sliding inside. "Most claim they can resist, but the prostate doesn't lie." Michael panted as she worked, his cock hard and dripping pre-cum. "Witty till the end, aren't you?" she murmured, adding a second finger, rubbing insistently. "Imagine if this were a blowjob instead—betas get the clinical version." He groaned, body tensing, as she persisted, stubborn and unyielding. "I won't stop until you prove me right."
His ass clenched around her fingers while she massaged deeper, his cock throbbing untouched. "You're wet with anticipation," Ashley noted of her own growing arousal, though she remained in command. "Panting like that won't save you." The build intensified, sharp dialogue cutting through: "Still think you're alpha?" she asked. "Or ready to donate like the rest?" Michael came with a shudder, cum spilling hands-free in pulsing ropes, his body sweating and spent.
Ashley withdrew, satisfied, and released the restraints. "Beta confirmed. Sperm donor from now on—no pairings, just regular sessions." He stood on shaky legs, the thin pants restored. "This changes nothing about who I am," he said defiantly. She smiled, adjusting her glasses. "We'll see how you handle chapter two."
The door hissed open behind him, hinting at the pleasures—and submissions—yet to come.
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