Breedr 4 Breedr

Tika was nervous. This was their first day at their new job, Romantitek. They had been doing sex work for a while now, but only among the Clean, so it was easy—everyone knew the drill, transferred credits to their account, used correct pronouns, understood what they were agreeing to, engaged in the rules of consent. 

But Romantitek was different. It was designed for the Unclean, so obviously, it was remote work. Hundreds of years ago,  a virus called COVID-19 swept the Incorporated United Nation, at that time called the United States. It wasn’t anything too bad, mild by today’s standards, but it was basically the SARS virus. Even at that primitive time, the human race pretty easily developed a vaccine. But that era, known as the Era of First Dissent, was when folks started saying no to vaccines, claiming there was some government conspiracy afoot. 

That went on for hundreds of years—Every time there was a new plague or a new disease, they refused treatment, claiming that there was some master plan by the government or the medical facilities to microchip them, or make them more sick with their vaccinations. And over the years, they slowly mutated into their own race of people, large, brutish, covered in sores, lurching, squinting through extremely thick glasses when the Clean all just got surgery for their eyesight. And though they still spoke English, it was now an almost unrecognizable dialect. 

Many had feared there would be a war between the Clean and the Unclean, but war wasn’t good for the economy—at least not civil war. Instead, the conflict between the two sides festered and rotted like a bloated rat corpse in the sun. It just sort of sat there and stunk. The Unclean stayed locked up in their homes, with their guns. They mingled among themselves, content to be cut off from the Clean, who only allowed vaccinated and healthy people into their spaces. 

And the country went on like that, profitable, festering, and completely divided into two worlds. For a while, it worked well, but the new generation of Unclean men were getting restless because they lost more and more women every year to folks who tried to get vaxxed and caught up with modern health standards, have their mutations removed, and, frankly, the women who did remain with the Unclean weren’t much to look at—and didn’t really look much like humans. 

There had been an increase in crimes, Unclean men raping and kidnapping Clean women to try and get their rocks off or reproduce. The market had identified a real need to stop this, and Romantitek was started to meet those needs. “Meet real women near you, and if there’s a connection, set up a meet!” their slogan cheerfully read. Of course, that wasn’t true. The idea was to have men pay more and more for coins to talk to women they would never actually meet. Eventually, they would either become frustrated and leave the site, or stay on and talk to new women, but it was anonymous and, Romantitek assured, perfectly safe.

Tika, of course, was not even a woman, but they were femme and assigned female at birth, so they looked the part. And after years in food service, sex work, and customer service, even sales, they were great at taking abuse. 

“When a client starts to harp on the idea of meeting up, try and avoid the subject as much as possible,” the onboarding materials read. “If a client becomes angry that you won’t meet him, just keep the conversation going. Remain calm and kind, but remember, even if they get angry and abusive, you’re still getting paid for receiving their chats.”

Other sections were equally disturbing: “If a client sends you a pic of their genitalia, remember to act turned on and amazed. Some good strategies are to ask how all the engorgement to their member will make you feel once you do have intercourse. Do NOT act shocked and disgusted at their mutations.” 

“Remember, clients believe in two genders. Do not EVER refer to yourself as they/them or as a man, and use of neopronouns is forbidden. To them, you are a woman. Clients also do not believe in consent, so they won’t have the boundaries with you that you are used to having.” 

Tika shuddered. Yikes. This might be a little rougher than they thought. But the pay was good—Receiving one or two messages would practically pay for a meal. And there was also video chat, which paid even better. 

All logged in and waiting, Tika stared at the screen. She had been logged on and daydreaming for so long that she hadn’t even realized there was finally an active user who had pinged her. 

Breedr4Breedr: Ay you, female. What your name is? You talking to anyone but me? You wanna let me put it in you and cum? 

Tika read through the message, figured out what it meant, and then pushed down the horror and disgust. After a deep breath, she replied: 

TikaTikaBoo: Oh hey babe, so good to hear from you. I’m not talking to anyone but you baby. Wanna call me? 

They regretted the last part as soon as they sent it—Was it really worth the money to have this person call them? But before they could really think about it much more, their screen began ringing. They swiped up on the air in front of them and started the call. 

As soon as the man appeared in front of her, Tika had to shove down the urge to actually vomit. Hi face was large and grotesque, dotted with sores and pox as well as scars. He had one main nose, then a little side nose growing off of that, and his glasses were so thick she could barely see his eyes. The room behind him looked dark and dirty, and from the looks of his appearance and surroundings, Tika was unsure if he was able to get up from his chair on his own. 

“Hi beautiful. I like what I see. You talking only to me?”

Tika had to ask him to repeat himself several times the accent was so thick, but finally got it. 

“Yes babe, just you. How you doing today? You’re so handsome!” The fake smile was plastered to her face for dear life. 

“Mmmm, leg hurts!” Breedr4Breedr said, slowly and painstakingly lifting his leg into the frame. It was huge, engorged and red, covered in pus and bandages, with more sores then they had ever seen in one place before. Tika fought every urge that came to her naturally, which was disgust and repulsion, then concern and to ask when he was going to call medics. 

These people don’t believe in and won’t get medical attention, they reminded themselves. Express empathy, but don’t suggest treatment. 

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry! That looks like it hurts, but it doesn’t stop you from being super cute. Hopefully it heals soon!” 

“Uhhhh, wanna see you!” Breedr4Breedr cried out. Obediently, Tika lowered the straps of their tank top to reveal their breasts. 

—

Over the next few weeks, Tika knew to expect a call from Breedr4Breeder almost every shift. They always started the same way, with complaints about his obviously terrible health, and the question of whether or not they were seeing anyone else. Then, after the virtual sex was complete—something that didn’t take long, as his member was barely functional—he would ask if he could cum inside them, if they would have the baby. 

A breeder fetish, Tika thought. Creepy yes, but nothing they hadn’t encountered before, even among the Clean. Clean and Unclean probably couldn’t actually breed together anyway, and she knew the Unclean had some ancient practices around carrying even the most deformed babies to term. It probably tied in with the culture. It may have turned their stomach, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. 

Occasionally, the conversation would go the way it always did with the Unclean clients: “When can we meet? Will you come visit? I can’t wait ‘til I’m taking you to out to have filthy sex in public, or treat you to a nice romantic meal.” A lot of it, they knew, was simply fantasy. What if the world wasn’t divided, and they weren’t so horribly deformed? The clients could have a real relationship. But with some, like Breedr4Breeder, Tika feared they did not have the emotional nor practical intelligence to realize this was all fantasy, and they’d never be meeting in real life. 

In the specific case of Breedr4Breedr, he loved the fantasy that Tika would carry his child, then raise it, and live in his home, caring for him and providing sex whenever he wanted it. 

—

It was night once again, and Tika rubbed their eyes and pulled out their computer pod, firing up the virtual screen. It had been an incredibly slow week, so as soon as she saw the Breedr4Breedr icon ping her, she was actually flooded with relief 

Great, she thought, Keep him on the line long enough and I may actually be able to make rent this month. 

Taping on the icon, she waited obediently, the plastered-on smile spread across her face, fingers poised on her lacy bra straps. But to her surprise, the screen opened and the chair her client always sat in was vacant. The scene was even more eerie without him in it. An old, antique TV blaring Unclean propaganda sounded off to the side, illuminating the stained, filthy chair and ancient lamp with an eerie glow. All around, she could see the dressing he used for his wounds and different discarded scraps, collected in bloody piles around the filthy floor like fallen soldiers. 

Where is he? She thought. She was starting to get seriously spooked.

“Babe?” She called out. “Honey? I don’t see you… Where are you?”

“GAHHH!” All of a sudden a scream came from behind them, and as Tika, whipped around, in real time and in person, they watched their door get pushed in by a giant battering ram. There stood Breedr4Breedr, in the flesh. He was covered in bandages and panting, out of breath and completely doubled over from the effort, but apparently, he had been able to get out of that chair. On his back were half a dozen assault rifles as well as what looked like some sort of bazooka fastened over his left shoulder. His insane arsenal of automatic weapons must have taken out the guards for her building. Guards who, living comfortably in the Cleans, were just used to turning away unhoused people who were mentally ill or out of work and no real threat. 

Seeing Tika huddled there in terror, their arms wrapped around their chest, Breedr4Breedr seemed to get a second wind and lunged forward. 

“I knew you wasn’t ever gonna come see me; I had to come see you! Can I still put it in? You gonna have this baby?” 

He was slow, but he had the element of surprise on his side, as well as an assault rifle now pointed at Tika. He stood like that for a moment, letting the question hang in the air as Tika cried and cowered. Then, seeing their breasts heaving in real life beneath their arms, he was unable to resist anymore and threw himself on top of them, knocking over the office chair and pushing them onto the ground. 

Tika couldn’t help but vomit on themself as the bile rose in their throat. On-screen, Breedr4Breedr was repulsive enough, but actually being able to smell all the wounds and see the flesh in person was disgusting. Feeling his wet and slimy skin against their own was the worst feeling of all. And they could also feel a bulge in his pants that wasn’t due to any concealed weapon. It was only a matter of time before he would actually violate them and make his dream, and their nightmare, a reality. 

Just as she had squeezed her eyes closed to get ready for it and try and dissociate as much as possible, they felt his full weight slam against them as he fell forward. Dead weight, Tika thought. Their partner, Meelo, had used their secure safe to smash into him repeatedly until he toppled forward. Meelo scrambled over to help pull Tika out from under the crushing weight. They both stood back and surveyed the damage. The back of his head, soft and diseased, was completely caved in, and bits of brain were everywhere. 

“No way even an Unclean survived that,” Tika said through tears once they caught their breath. “Thank you so much, love.”

“No problem,” Meelo responded, wrapping their arms around Tika and holding them close. “Hazard of our trade. You better get cleaned up; I heard your phone ping. The corporate police who contract with Romantitek will be here soon to file an official report. I’ll take the back room for my calls. 

“You—You’re still going to work?” Tika choked out. “You don’t need to take the day off?”

“Babe I can’t—this will mean you won’t have clients for the rest of the day, and if they give you a hazard bonus—and we both know that’s a big if—it won’t come through for weeks. We need to make rent this week.” 

Tika sighed. They knew Meelo was right. “Ok, I’ll come get you when they have questions about you defending me. Talk to you soon.” They pecked Meelo on the cheek and watched them walk slowly into the back room with their computer pod. In a few seconds, they heard a sultry “Hey babe, what are you wearing” in Meelo’ss deep, baritone voice. They’ll be OK, they thought. 

Tika turned back to the mess in the living room, not looking forward at all to cleaning it up. They noticed that Breedr4Breedr had one hand on the floor open and outstretched, the one he had been using to wrap around Tika’s neck. The other was still firmly clenched. Curious, they leaned forward and pried the fingers open.

In the palm of his hand was an old, analog color photo of a baby. From the looks of the photo and the person in it, it was from before the Clean and Unclean split. A small, innocent, cherubic child with blue eyes, golden hair, and pink cheeks beamed up at Tika. Suddenly overwhelmed with anger, they snatched up the photo, crumpled it, dropped it on the ground, spat on it, and ground into it with their foot until the face was barely recognizable. Then they stuffed it in their client’s mouth like an old piece of chewing gum and surveyed their work, satisfied. 

Take that, breeder freak, Tika thought before heading off to take a much-needed shower.

This story originally appears in the October 2024 Freaky Fiction issue of OFM. Photo courtesy of Deposit Photos