by Damon Suede
(HardCell Universe: second transmission)
Release date: 24 July 2011 (M/M Group @ Goodreads as part of their free Hot Summer Days anthology)
This prequel to Grown Men is a crazy sci-fi short about sperm piracy and sibling rivalry gone seriously wrong.
When corporate mercenary Beirn agrees to a sleazy organ harvest job, he walks straight into his worst nightmare, a trap set by the twin brother he betrayed. Against his better judgment, Beirn teams up with a semen smuggler to save his own skin and hopefully make amends to the only family he has left.
Loathing turns to lust as the two men grapple with their violent impulses and their growing desire. In one terrible night, impossible feelings will force Beirn to understand the brother he betrayed and the mistakes he's made.
Warning: doublecrosses, dirty sex, and designer testicles.
Originally written for a free anthology at Goodreads, this short story expanded the HardCell Universe and Ox's history... and planted all kinds of demented ideas that bore fruit.
"4 1/2 blissful sweet peas! Mr. Suede is famous for his skills as a wordsmith, so instead of a favorite quote, I offer favorite words and phrases: cum-smuggler, man-jam, designer testicles, sperm pirates. There are lots more and they’re all hilarious. A fantastic job of world building…thrilling plot and characters…Mr. Suede has written another winner, and it’s offered as a legitimate, author-approved, free on-line read! This is a no-risk investment other than your time to enjoy the story…Ingenious, erotic, witty, and outrageously funny." (Mrs. Condit Reads Books)
(From the story's opening...)
Before tonight, Beirn had never stolen a set of designer testicles.
Of course, he’d only taken the job because they were his brother’s testicles and Beirn knew exactly where to find the damn things. Ox had been happily stashed with a sperm-pirate for three months, stabled and milked as part of a black-market hormone herd.
Beirn’s gigantic body stretched on his belly in the dunes surveying a rundown beach resort west of New Baghdad. Two moons winked through the acrid smog over six acres of manmade seashore. Inside the resort walls, twenty pastel bungalows ringed a central villa covered in apricot plaster.
Beirn had signed the organ harvest contract without blinking. He and Ox had been stranded in this backwater armpit of the galaxy and selling his brother’s testes would pay for two tickets back to Epsilon Eridani and real prospects for both of them. Fetch Ox, deliver him to the surgeons, and they could catch a flight by sundown tomorrow.
HardCell’s R&D division always paid large for harvesting exceptional organs. At nearly two and a half meters tall, and 140ish kilos each, Beirn knew he and his twin had singular DNA. Plus with four identical balls between them and Ox’s… tendencies, he didn’t actually need his nads. They were kinda like spares.
Hopefully Ox’ll fucking see it that way.
Beirn snuck into the resort compound on his belly, crawling across the sand towards disaster. What kind of skeezebag stayed in these tacky shacks by an industrial ocean? Cum-smugglers, apparently.
The brothers had never shared a psychic twin-link, which seemed annoying now, when Beirn might’ve remotely blissed out on his sibling’s brain-vacation.
Especially in this shithole.
A squirt-herder named Zed had run this seaside spunkyard outside New Baghdad for the past year, harvesting seed and shipping it to corporate farms breeding employees all over the galaxy. Semen and designer hormones turned quick profits if the pimp in charge could find enough gullible donors. The racket just took clever planning: a couple security goons, a vegetative cock-flock, and a skeezy medical tech to tend the herd and harvest the gamete and endocrine drains…
Ox had no idea he was about to be rescued. After three months of having his big gonads mechanically milked every two hours, Ox wasn’t worrying about too much. The bliss-coma kept him smiling twenty-three out of twenty-four hours. His only labor had been below the belt, so the last three months probably felt like three days. Forgiving Beirn would be easy.
Excerpted from Seedy Business by Damon Suede
published by Evil Mastermind