BoyToy 2050

[HoodedRat757]

Teaser:Despite the fact that she had to be around 85 years old, the ability of modern technology – at least the kind of technology available to the rich and privileged few of society meant that she didn’t look a day older than 21. “I guess immortal youth doesn’t sound so bad when you have everything you could possibly want...” Greg muttered venomously. He hated the elite and so he hated Monica as a result even though he craved nothing more than to feel the touch of a woman as beautiful as her, something he had no doubt in his mind would never happen.
-------------------------------------------------------------

The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
-------------------------------------------------------------


Index:

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2

-------------------------------------------------------------

Title: BoyToy 2050
Author: HoodedRat757
-------------------------------------------------------------



BoyToy 2050


Greg scowled bitterly as the tube of the gray dispenser unit released a miserly lump of stale wheat that would be his handout for the day. “45 minutes in the breadline for this...How can anyone live like this?” he shook his head bitterly, the recently turned 18 year old in muttered resentfully. “Get moving ya pansy!” a harsh voice yelled out from the line of the many miserable people behind him. Other coarse voices grumbled in agreement. Greg rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to confront whoever it was. What was the point of it when he himself and all of them were all obsolete anyway?

Besides, he’d endured the smell of the Rockdale Tent Village slum far too long especially for the paltry reward that was now in his right hand. Rotting food and other rubbish was sprawled everywhere, spice junkies walked around in a zombie like daze whilst others pushed dilapidated trolley carts full of rubbish bags. The occasional sentry drone floated by overhead, scanning for any real sign of trouble but otherwise happy to let the locals drown in their purposeless misery. Most of them would provide the drones with nothing new in the way of data to be harvested anyhow.

Greg chewed through the stale bread quickly, wanting to get it over with. Something happened to make him do a double take. One of the drones appeared to flash it’s camera momentarily and Greg was sure it’d locked in on him. “Must’ve imagined it” he shook his head. It’d certainly never happened without him doing anything to draw their attention before. At 5’11 in height with medium dark hair and large hazel eyes, Greg had never been bad looking not that’d it done him any good in life. His diet of stale dispenser bread and whatever else he might manage to scavenge meant he was certainly skinnier than he wanted.

He’d been alone for around a decade, his parents lives claimed in the global mass unemployment driven riots of 2042. The situation had left him mentally old well before his time. He’d never got to be a kid at all really. It didn’t matter though. Greg knew there would’ve been no more of a future for him and them had they survived as there was for him now. It was better they were gone. Once the envy of so much of the world, New Zealand was now no less dangerous and broken a country as anywhere else in the world. Everywhere had been ravaged by AI driven mass unemployment, there were no exceptions.

It was best not to dwell on any of it. At least he could look forward to the numbing high of the Spice that Spyder owed him. Greg kept walking. He wasn’t far from Auckland’s CBD now, the Skytower still stood tall against the skyline as it had done for decades but it had plenty of competition. About 10 minutes of walking and he found himself in the CBD, looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t about to become another homicide statistic.

Greg felt another scowl across his face as he looked up at the digital billboard in front of him. The (admittedly beautiful) sight of the famous Italian model and actress Monica Bellucci greeted him. Draped across a wooden chair, wearing only the black lingerie she was advertising, she winked at the street viewer over and over again in a loop.

Despite the fact that she had to be around 85 years old, the ability of modern technology – at least the kind of technology available to the rich and privileged few of society meant that she didn’t look a day older than 21. “I guess immortal youth doesn’t sound so bad when you have everything you could possibly want...” Greg muttered venomously. He hated the elite and so he hated Monica as a result even though he craved nothing more than to feel the touch of a woman as beautiful as her, something he had no doubt in his mind would never happen.

Up and across the street, an argument between several Mongrel Mob and Black Power members looked like it was about to turn violent. “Best find Spyder and get out of here asap.” The alleyway he was looking for came into view on his right. For a moment he was worried that he might draw some heat from the gang members but they were clearly too focused on each other to even register him. Before entering the alleyway he looked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

Another digital billboard caught his eyes, this one was an advertisement for The Devil Wears Prada III with Anne Hathaway and Emily Blunt posing for it, smug grins on their faces. Like Monica Bellucci, they only looked early 20s despite being many decades older. Greg hated them as well but still would’ve killed for just one night with them. Then it happened again. It was brief but out of the corner of his eye he caught the unmistakable flash of another drone focusing in on him.

“What’s going on?” He wondered to himself, a cold sweat breaking out as he genuinely began to feel as though he were being stalked. “Let’s just get this over with...” He shakily forced himself down the alleyway, wanting to get what he was owed and get out. His confusion only grew as he found himself alone where he expected Spyder and his gang to be. “No one? No one in sight...” he was starting to panic now. He decided to flag getting the spice and try to make a hasty exit via the other end of the alley. His hope of doing so was quickly dashed as poking his head around the side his heart sank as he saw that the exit was blocked off by three of Auckland city’s humanoid armed robo-police units.

“Damnit...How can this be happening? They couldn’t be here for me could they? Why? How?...Have to get out of here now...” He turned to rush back the way he came and almost ran straight into another one of the robo police. He realized too late that this one was holding a tranquilizer gun. “Procurement #31789, I’m here to transport you to the relevant paying clients.” the voicebox of the robo police boomed in that signature authoritative, emotionless monotone. Greg gasped as the dart fired from the gun, embedding itself in his right arm. He had no time to do anything before the darkness claimed him...

[Shocker]

I like this start of s story quite a lot. So many possibilities for you to explore.

[Claire]

Quite the bit of world building you gave us here. Let's see where this goes!

[DouglasR]

Looking forward to seeing where this one takes us.

[HoodedRat757]

Greg felt his eyes flinching, the rays of the sun intruding harshly on the darkness of dreamless sleep. He became aware of the pulse of the ocean around him, the very slight buoyancy of the surface beneath him. "Am I dead?" he wondered to himself, his eyelids unable to muster the strength to open. He knew he was lying down face up, on some sort of table. He was aware of soft things sliding against the exposed naked skin of his body, leaving some kind of liquid substance as it did. "Hands..." he realized and more than one set of them...Female hands at that...They were
caressing his naked skin as they rubbed something into it. He realized he could hear gigging. Words were being spoken but he couldn't make them out though they sounded gleeful.

He forced himself to open his eyes and was greeted with a beautiful face beaming down at him. "I must be dead" he thought to himself as he recognized the woman as none other than Monica Bellucci. Wearing only a black bikini, her voluptuous figure was on full display as was her flawless, sag-free skin - the splendour of her eternal physical youth. She was somehow even more beautiful in person than in the billboards. She held a carton of sunblock in one hand.

Her big brown eyes locked in with Greg's freshly opened hazel ones, feasting on their wide-eyed confusion and vulnerability. "Looks like our little Angel is finally with us!" Her free hand - still covered in the sunblock she'd been smearing him with - reached out and gave his right cheek an affectionate pinch. "Mwah!" The pinch on the right cheek was followed up with the quick smacking of her lips against the left one. Greg heard the snorting laughter of several other women.

Standing up was out of the question but he was able to crane his neck to try and see more of his surroundings. Whoever the woman to the left of him was, she was using both of her hands to expertly massage sunblock onto his naked chest. He finally locked eyes on her and was shocked to see the face of Emily Blunt, a smug grin on her face as she stared back at him in her burgundy red bikini. "Greg, sweetie, we can't have our little munchkin getting sunburnt now can we?" she giggled as did several of the women. Greg's cheeks burned as it dawned on him that he was completely naked. "This...This has to be a dream" he thought, trying to rationalize what was happening.

He forced himself to sit up at the waist, too panicked to take in the faces of any of the other women but cognizant enough take in something of his environment. He was at sea that was for sure, somewhere warm and tropical. "This boat or whatever it is is huge..." he thought to himself. As he gazed at the modern feel of the ship in it's whiteness, the realization that this was one of those massive high tech billionaire luxury yachts hit him like a bucket of cold water. He'd seen plenty of these but never in person.

He tried to take in more but was cut short in his attempt. "Oh easy dearest, don't do that! They had to put you through quite a bit to get you to us, don't try to get up too fast please..." Monica said, the maternal concern in her voice sounding genuine. As soon as Greg heard her words, there was nothing he could do to prevent himself instantly dropping his back to the table, lying down perfectly. "Wjat is this? How can she just control me like that???...Nanobots...They've put Nanobots in my bloodstream...I'm completely under their control...Can I speak, I wonder?"

"Wh-wh-where am I, what is this?" he managed to splutter out, confirming he still had the faculty of speech available to him at least as long as his captors didn't decide to take it from him. Suddenly he was aware of another feminine presence, softly rubbing his shoulders. "Just relax sweetie...You're way out in the middle of the Caribbean ocean. It's just us and you and nowhere else for you to go so just let us take care of you! We're going to anyway!" Strands of fiery red hair that belonged to the voice had fallen on Greg's face and shoulders. Greg strained his eyes upwards enough to see that the red hair belonged to Christina Hendricks, the beautiful redheaded actress who despite probably being in her 80s now also didn't look a day over 21. Wearing only a bikini like the others, Christina leaned closer into Greg, deliberately smothering him with her large breasts.

"It was such an effort to get you here..." Christina stroked his hair as she cooed. "But I can already tell it was well worth the effort. It's the first time we've procured a Boytoy from New Zealand and I'm so excited for all the wonderful things you're about to experience..." "Chris, don't frighten him yet!" Another woman who hadn't spoken yet giggled as she playfully admonished Christina. "You don't need to be frightened duckling, you've got all of us to take care of you and plenty more coming!" The woman stepped into view and Greg immediately recognized her as Anne Hathaway. Nothing could surprise him at this point. His mind couldn't process the shock of what was happening and it simply shut down.

Anne reached into the cooler next to the table and pulled out a transparent drink bottle with juice in it. "Open your mouth duckling" Anne beamed at him like a mother getting their toddler to eat. Greg's mouth immediately opened without his instruction. Anne popped open the lid and began to bottle feed him the juice. As humiliating as this was, Greg was absolutely parched and the ice cold orangey, mango taste was pure nectar in mouth. "There we go, that's better isn't it" she cooed, popping the bottle lid back down and giving Greg's naked butt cheek an affectionate pinch.

For a moment there was silence as if Greg's captors were allowing him a moment to try and get to grips with his new reality. "Greg, dearest, I think you're ready to take a little walk with me to the front deck so we can spend a little quality time together getting to know one another..." Monica finally said quietly. The smile she shot the other women was subtle but not so subtle that Greg didn't see it. The others definitely didn't succeed in hiding their giggles or snorts from him. "Greg, please stand up and let me take your hand." Monica commanded softly. Before he could do anything, he was standing there, beside this beautiful woman with her hand holding his...Naked, vulnerable and completely under her control, they began the short walk to the front-deck...

[HoodedRat757]

Eh I really should have done some more editing on this second part before posting it...Oh well, I'll lake some edits tomorrow.