The small town of Luckridge lived up to its name. Nestled between rolling hills, it had long subsisted off its rich soil, with a booming agricultural industry that never seemed to know a bad year and a tight-knit community which fought off illness and conflict with remarkable ease. Far from resisting the march of progress, they ably managed the digital transition and embraced outsiders who would seek to live with them. There always seemed to be a job going, regardless of the applicant's skills or interests, which kept the place alive and thriving, modern despite its old-world charm. When the press stopped by every couple of years to try and puzzle out this remarkable haven, the mayor could only shrug and say, 'welcome to Luckridge.'
While some attributed the town's success to a combination of ingenious programs, temperate weather, and a spirited population, others – the silent majority – owed it to the yearly festival.
Nobody knew for sure when the Feast of Fertility started. The most popular theory held that immigrants from Northern (or was it Southern?) Europe brought their pagan festivities with them, deciding to continue the tradition when they saw how bountiful their harvests were. Every year, hundreds of men and women competed to become the King and Queen of Fertility – the only requirement was that the entrants be over eighteen and lead a generally healthy lifestyle, without over-reliances on drugs or alcohol. In olden times, the men with the biggest cocks and heaviest balls and the women with the most exaggerated hourglass figures were chosen from the small community by the town elders, but over time, science had joined the fray to pre-select the best candidates, testing participants' sperm counts, tracking ovulation, and studying family histories to ensure those who made it through the first stage were ready and raring to breed.
The fun part came afterwards, on the day of the actual celebration. On the open-air stage stood two groups, separated by sex, with a curtain drawn between them to prevent their seeing each other, and the stage's main curtains drawn to build anticipation in the spectators. Murmurs slipped from one side to the other, the thick material of the curtain ensuring they couldn't make out what was being said, merely allowing the men to hear soft high whispers and the women quiet rumbling conversation. Everyone could hear the audience's chatter, though, and their heartbeats came fast and furious, even to those who'd participated before. It was hard to keep your cool when you were completely naked, about to be bared to your entire town, and with the knowledge that you'd be having public sex with a stranger by the end of the night.
Dorothy Kerr stood with a few of her high-school friends, each nude as the day she was born, eagerly discussing how surreal the experience was. They'd glimpsed each other's bodies in the showers after gym class, but despite Luckridge's frank attitude towards sex and nudity once a year, day to day life wasn't any more erotic than anywhere else, and – even though they were eighteen – they were still teenagers, with the awkwardness that entailed. It wasn't warranted: there were younger and older women of all shapes, sizes, and colors, all beautiful, and all chosen for their perfect health and ovulation cycle or proven abilities as broodmares.
'Do you think Bruce is over there?' asked Thea, Dorothy's friend, gesturing at the heavy red velvet fabric separating them from the men. Even though she was nervous, knowing there was a group of men on the other side of it who were just as naked as they were, balls brimming from the strict masturbation ban, likely already getting stiff at the thought of penetrating the sweet pussies of their friends, neighbors, bosses and coworkers – well, it did make Dorothy have to squeeze her legs together with a shiver of anticipation. 'I kinda hope so, 'cause then I can try to match up with him, but…'
'... but not, in case he ends up with another girl?'
Thea shifted from foot to foot. 'I know it's just the festival. It doesn't mean anything. But I've had sex with him already and I know he's good. I don't want any of the women here to get ideas of stealing him from me.'
'What if he ends up having to do Mrs Ingram?' giggled Natalie, dodging out of the way when Thea swatted at her arm with a scandalized shriek. 'Could you even fuck him after that?'
Mrs Ingram was their homeroom teacher, a strict disciplinarian who always looked like she'd just sucked a lemon – and who was endowed with a prodigious fertility, having given birth to seven children already, three of them the fruit of random festival fucking. Standing a few feet away, she shot the noisy girls a stern glance, but didn't rebuke them or get any closer at all. Participants in the festivities needed to cast their preexisting connections aside. In here, they were all Breedmaids, not teacher and pupil or neighbor and neighbor.
'Ugh, gross,' Thea said, with a theatrical shudder. 'Now I really hope he isn't on the other side. Even if it means I'll get paired up with somebody else.'
'Like Mr Valencia?' Natalie laughed at Thea's despondent sigh when she mentioned their math teacher. 'Why'd you even sign up if you only wanna have sex with your boyfriend?'
'Everybody in my family does it when they reach eighteen. It's tradition. Isn't that why you applied?'
'I just wanna get my cunt reamed out! Don't you think this whole thing's hot? I've been fantasizing about it since I was like, fourteen.'
'Jeez.' Thea's cheeks were bright red. Dorothy thought her shyness was pretty cute and funny, considering the circumstances. Natalie continued:
'Like, I think It'd be awesome to be fucked by Mr Valencia. The guy who taught you fractions and algorithms and watched you grow up eating your pussy out? It's great. And if you're picked to be Queen, you get bragging rights.'
More than that, though there were no official rules stating the King and Queen would receive special privileges, the community usually rallied around to provide discounts and freebies to the couple who'd ensure another successful year in the valley. Given that the Queen was sure to become pregnant during the insemination ceremony, she could use the baby items, but there were plenty of bonuses like cheaper groceries, free rides around town, boxes of the season's first harvest of fruits and vegetables, a discount on a new car and even on a brand new home… Dorothy sighed longingly, which made her friends turn to her.
'What about you?'
'Me? Uh… I don't know. I guess people in my family usually do it. And – well, yeah, it's kinda hot, I guess. If I didn't do it, I'd regret it later.'
Her friends shot each other a slightly skeptical look. Dot was often the mediator, conflict-averse and keen to see both sides of the issue, but it was hard to parse her real motivations or beliefs at the best of times. It was true that her family had a long history of participation in the Festival: her mother's side could trace their ancestors back to the first settlers of Luckridge, and her father, Reuben, had been King two years running on account of his truly prodigious fertility, caring nature, and physical perfection. Dorothy had two half-siblings out in the world, though one had moved away for work and the other was going to college in their state's capital. Either way, according to custom, she didn't really think of them as family , since they'd been the result of ritual insemination. They were gifted, and extraordinary, and nothing like her.
The third time Reuben participated was his last, and rumor had it that he played the game carefully, sabotaging his own chances when it became clear the girl he loved – Irma, Dorothy's future mom – wasn't Queen material. They matched, as regular Breedmaids and Plowers did, had sex during the Insemination ceremony – and, though nothing forbade him from continuing to take part, Reuben threw in the towel and hadn't applied in eighteen years. Predictably, given his powerful spunk, Irma became pregnant that very night, and he pivoted from talented ceremonial fuckstud to devoted daddy and hard-working entrepreneur. Thinking of this made Dorothy smile, despite her awkwardness in that moment. She was very lucky to have such loving parents.
It was also true that the mysterious, holy aura of the Festival had made it the fodder of her masturbation sessions throughout her teenage years. Kids weren't allowed on the ceremonial grounds, but everyone knew what the event entailed. Dot spent hundreds of evenings exploring her pussy while thinking of the mandatory nudity required of the participants, the public challenges that meant complete sexual openness with the entire town. It was hard not to succumb to the horny, feverish atmosphere that took over Luckridge in the weeks preceding the celebrations, and just as she'd fantasized, she was going to lose her virginity here, on stage, in front of hundreds of people.
'Ooh, I guess you do find it sexy,' laughed Natalie, as she watched her friend's chubby nipples stiffen and lengthen in arousal, until they stood like pebbles, begging to be played with – which she did, teasingly flicking the tip of Dorothy's right tit to watch her moan and cross her arms over her chest. She knew which parts of her were sensitive, but she didn't really know how it would feel to have another person touch her, kiss her, fuck her . Already, she could feel wetness between her thighs. Her plentiful, precocious girl drool was something she'd always been self-conscious of, but she hoped it would be an asset tonight.
'God, I mean, that was a dick move from Nat, but it's pretty hard to resist. Your nipples are so cute.'
'Right?' exclaimed Natalie. 'Don't you just wanna suck 'em? There's two titties and two of us…'
'Don't you dare!' Dorothy squealed, swinging her body away from her friends – and half laughing, half yelping when Nat swatted her bare ass in response. Natalie was always the most unhinged part of their little threesome, and Thea had secretly posited that she seemed to have a crush on Dot, but her openly bawdy comments and actions were still a thrill, and a surprise. It made her realize that there really were people who thought about her sexually, that maybe she did have a chance in the Festival – and that maybe that was why her dad was so protective of her.
By the standards of any other town, he'd never be considered a helicopter parent. Reuben happily let her hang out with friends away from the confines of the home, let her stay out late because he knew he could trust her, and gradually explained the Festival of Fertility to her as she aged, more explicit detailed doled out with the years. What he did do was make it clear he didn't want her taking part, which was the only real source of conflict between him and his wife: Irma was proud to have been featured the first time she applied, and wanted her daughter to carry the torch for the long-standing family tradition. Despite his excellent track record with the ceremony, Reuben had grown to be embarrassed by the whole ordeal, and especially as his little girl grew to become more beautiful, he started to hate the idea of other men seeing her in the throes of sexual ecstasy. Based on the glimpses of her naked body he'd seen after showers, he knew she'd cause hundreds of hard dicks to rise among audience members, and the certainty of her being bred by someone in public made his eyes twitch.
Though he tried to be subtle in his discouragement, when enrolment opened for that year's edition, he sat her down and plainly asked her to steer clear. There would be plenty of opportunities to find a boyfriend without participating. There was no shame in sitting it out. Could she do that for him? For her silly, concerned old dad?
She'd smiled at him, and said, 'Don't worry, dad. I won't.' He'd smiled at her, plainly relieved, even as she knew she'd filled out her form days ago with her friends during lunch break and popped it into the special postbox set up by the town hall.
Since she'd checked the box affirming she was a virgin, she'd been surprised a few days later with a package in the mail containing two lifelike dildos, four inches and seven inches, along with a note simply stating "don't let your first time be painful" and the seal of the Festival (an innocuous sprig of wheat over a drop of "water," most likely cum). Thankfully, her parents never opened her mail, and she'd been able to pass it off as a pair of shoes she'd ordered online. Though she was no stranger to fingering herself, she'd never owned a sex toy, and she'd more than made up for that fact by fucking herself with the larger rubber cock every night before falling asleep. With her prodigious wetness, it slipped in easily, though working it in and out of her tight cunt was still a workout, and only made her more and more curious about the real thing.
A woman clothed in extravagant florals came in from the wings. Dot immediately recognized her as last year's Queen, ready to host the ceremony. 'We're about to start, ladies! Places! Who's excited?'
As they lined up in a row, a ripple of approval went through the crowd, with a couple of enthusiastic hoots from the likes of Natalie. They could faintly hear similar, lower-pitched sounds from the other side of the curtain. The Queen smiled. 'That's what I like to hear,' she said, with a wink, before turning just in time to face the audience as the main curtain rose.
'Hello Luckridge!' exclaimed the Queen, lifting waving with one arm high in the air. As she made her way to the middle front of the stage, she was joined by the previous year's King, who'd emerged from the male side of the divide. Though they didn't really know each other before the ceremony, they'd embarked on a relationship after their coupling. It was the sort of fairy tale family that made Luckridge youths believe love was real: a gorgeous woman in her early thirties who ran a popular café on the main commercial street and who, like Dorothy's mother, could trace her ancestors back to the original Nordic settlers; a handsome dark-skinned high school English teacher whose migrant parents had worked hard to give him the opportunities they hadn't had; and their absolutely perfect three-month-old little girl.
'He's so hot,' Natalie whispered out the side of her mouth, eyes on the King. She was putting on the same devil-may-care front she'd had all evening, but this close up, Dorothy could see she was trembling – and who could blame her, standing completely naked in front of most of the town, every inch of her teenage body on full display, hundreds of pairs of eyes scanning her big grapefruit-sized tits, generous curves, and eagerly awaiting the moment they'd get a good luck at the pussy hidden between her legs, covered with a trimmed patch of silky pubic hair.
Dot thought she'd be nervous, too, but having spent the first seconds of exposure squinting into the bring lights to make out the first few rows of spectators, she felt a huge weight off her shoulders when she spotted her mother – and saw that her father wasn't with her. They'd seen each other at the same time, and Irma's mouth hung open in shock. Dorothy had told her she was spending the evening with her best friends, which wasn't a lie – and she knew that her mother would be proud to see her baby among the Festival's chosen. She'd been pretty sure her dad wouldn't come. He'd been tired, recently, and irritable, and it wouldn't make much sense for him to keep supporting the whole endeavor if he didn't want his kid to be part of it. Still, she hadn't been sure until that moment, and she'd braced for the worst; a tension which had now completely dissipated. Dorothy took a deep breath, straightened her spine, pushed out her breasts (with their suckable hard nipples), and grinned brightly. Tonight would be fun.
What she didn't know was that, on the male side of the curtain, her father was thinking the same thing.
Unseen from the female side, a row of men faced the front of the stage. Like the women, they ranged in age and were as naked as the day they were born, and at the end of the line stood Reuben Kerr, wearing a look of relief. The second he'd made sure his little girl wasn't in the audience, a weight lifted off his heart. Dorothy told her parents she'd be spending the night with a friend, a girl whose family was one of the few in Luckridge to completely shun the Festival, but this sounded too good to be true. She'd always had a fascination with the event, a romantic view of it fuelled by the fact he and Irma had started their relationship after being paired up there – which was true of many couples in town.
Somehow, as Dot matured into a ravishing young woman, the idea of handing her off to be banged by some stranger – or worse, a family friend – made him a little nauseous. He'd looked forward to being a dad, but he didn't know how deeply protective and adoring he'd feel towards his child until he first set eyes on her, pink and wriggly in her mother's arms moments after birth. She remained that tiny precious creature in his eyes until the first time he noticed the way puberty was changing her. One hot summer day, she came down the stairs in a bikini top and mini skirt, and he saw how she seemed to have sprouted a pair of bouncing breasts which would fit perfectly in his hands, and hips designed to hold on to during a frantic thrusting session, and his cock twitched in his pants.
It wasn't because of some sort of perversion on his part, of course. It was just a sign of how any healthy, heterosexual guy would react to his stunning daughter. And her assets were still growing . Other men wouldn't know her sharp mind, her talent for art and long distance running, her love of banana milkshakes. They'd only see a piece of meat. And that's how the whole town would see her at her Festival debut.
He couldn't bear that. So he'd taken her hands and pleaded with her not to go, and she'd nodded. She never lied to him. He was sure she wouldn't apply. But she might still show up, and get taken in by the fuck-happy horny vibe of the place, and agree to go back to a guy's house for one of the many post-celebration hook-ups –
But she wasn't there. So he could relax, and peer down the line of guys to take in the dozens of proud, stiff cocks jutting out towards the crowd, a range of sizes and colors and angles, some pointing towards the sky, others weighed down by their own girth and length to simply hang forward, ready to select a hole to fill. Though not the largest in the lineup, his own dick fell in this category, a picture-perfect specimen of grade-A fuckmeat, embroidered with squiggling veins that fed his unfaltering erection, garlanded by a pair of mouth-watering full balls that hung low enough to slap chins, asses and pussies to the rhythm of his self-assured pumping. His cockhead was just as delicious, with a jutting ridge that audibly popped into whatever orifice he penetrated and an eminently lickable fade from eager peony pink to his natural olive skintone. He was proud of his prick and nuts, and judging by the awed, slightly hungry glances of his fellow competitors, he had reason to be.
'I know you all can't wait for the testing to start,' said the Queen, after some opening banter with her partner. A large screen above the stage projected what was going on, angled in a way that made it impossible for the participants to see what was happening, even if they looked back. The match-ups were meant to be up to fate, after all, the couples matched solely on the strength of their fertility. Anonymous. 'We all want a good omen for the coming year, and we have an amazing crop of guys and gals just raring to go – including some familiar faces!'