Omega Society Auction [Book 1] Read online

  Table of Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Author Bio

  Omega Preview

  © Eileen Glass

  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Author Bio

  Omega Preview

  © Eileen Glass

  About This Book

  When the alien alphas arrived on Earth, omega-compatible men weren’t given a choice in mating with them. After a long and troubled war, Earth brought down the harem towers and exiled the alien lords to the moon where they rule from afar. Things have calmed down in recent history; the powerful alphas seek mates who will submit themselves voluntarily.

  But who would sell themselves into slavery? Who would want to become a breeder?

  Rourke’s terminally ill mother needs a cure that’s only accessible to the very rich. An omega auction can pay for it.

  Breeders Wanted.

  Exchange your ordinary life for Luxury, Family, and Space…

  The words are imposed atop the photo of a smiling human man hugging a pink-haired baby with the moon behind them. The first word on the sign changes every couple of years from ‘Breeders’ to ‘Omegas’ and back because the Earth and the Moon bicker constantly over what it should say.

  “Not thinking about getting your ass pounded, are you?” Cory laughs. “Remember, as bad as it gets scrubbing toilets, nothing is worse than that.”

  He touches his stomach and shudders. All men have the same reaction, internal or physical, when they stare at it for too long. Most don’t even look at it anymore, but the signs are posted everywhere. Every business of a certain size is required to display them in highly visible areas. They also have to keep them in good condition, clean of graffiti.

  Thus, there’s a man currently climbing a ladder with scrub gloves and a wash bucket. Someone drew a dick over the baby so that the man seems to be cradling, and smiling at, an enormous prick. They also added ASS CUNT over ‘Breeders’.

  “You seem quiet, man. Everything alright?” Cory asks.

  “Yeah,” Rourke says, distracted, as the woman at the pharmacy counter calls for next in line.

  He gives her his identification card, which she scans to pull up his record. The pain medication is for his mother, but he’s an authorized buyer on her account. She scans the list of the many medications he’s allowed to pick up.

  “You’re here for…” She guesses the one that’s low due to the bottle capacity and the time of his last pick up. They monitor these things exactly to stop dealers.

  “Yup,” he confirms. Usually, she’d be off to retrieve the prescription. He sees her about three times a month for different things. But just this once, she lingers on her computer, her eyes affixed near the top of the screen. She clicks once.

  Rourke’s heart picks up a beat. What could she be looking at? Could he be approved so soon? He checked his account status on his lunch break, and it was yellow—’In Review’.

  Her glance from Rourke and back to the computer screen could be coincidental.

  Cory leans backwards against the counter, oblivious. “Remember Rourke, as it bad as it gets mopping floors for the corporate slaves that keep laying us off to save their paycheck, at least you aren’t spitting babies out of your ass. It’s a good thing they put those signs everywhere to keep life in perspective, huh?”

  Rourke drops his eyes, unable to look at either of them. Everything Cory says is true. He and Cory have joked and talked shit over so many lunch breaks and just hanging out. BS-ing their lot in life always comes with a footnote: At least we aren’t spitting babies out our ass for the alien overlords.

  In Rourke’s city especially, when life gets hard there’s pride in never taking the easy way out. Suicide is preferable, Rourke heard in school once, and the whole class ‘hmmed’ with agreement. The teacher didn’t chime in, but he looked proud.

  Earth, in general, protests against the alpha aliens’ rule. But Rourke’s city is where they brought the harem towers down. Where they killed several alphas and alpha children in a war. Where they suffered massacres as a result.

  Death before slavery is still the motto.

  The woman—Audrey, her name tag says—gives the back of Cory’s head a very long and obvious stare. She knows. It must be on her screen, the little infinity symbol next to his citizenship ID.

  His application got approved. Rourke’s thumbs itch to bring out his phone and check, just to be doubly sure, but he can’t with Cory watching.

  “Who the hell even calls that number?” his friend muses aloud with a bored sigh.

  Almost no one… and Rourke. Their city has the highest number of omega-compatible humans and the lowest number of applicants. What would Cory say next if he knew?

  “I’ll get this from the back,” Audrey says and leaves the computer. Her tone is neither friendly nor unfriendly. Rourke is probably reading too much into it, but it did seem that she was a little more personable before.

  Thankfully, the law prevents anyone, professional or otherwise, from outing an omega status person’s personal record. Rourke remembers his mother throwing a fork at the TV when they announced the alphas’ ruling ten years ago. Protests were held for months, but the Earth Coalition backed the ruling due to the violent ‘bitch hunt’ that had happened.

  Audrey returns. “Here you go.” She passes the bag across the counter and interlaces her fingers, making an attempt at a polite smile. “Do you have any questions about the medication or anything?”

  “No,” Rourke mumbles and produces his wage card.

  She looks at it and opens her mouth. Rourke can see the words forming. That’s not necessary.

  He cuts in. “Please.”

  Alpha government is absolutely efficient. The moment his application got approved, he doesn’t pay for any medications, government services, or even housing. The allowance is temporary, until he gets auctioned. His winning alpha foots the bill when it all gets finalized.

  It’s illegal to charge an omega for these services. She looks at his card like she can’t figure out what to do with it. Cory, who still has his back against the counter, looks over his shoulder to see what’s up.

  The card wobbles in his grasp as Rourke prepares for the worst.

  “Oh! Of course!” Audrey play-slaps her forehead and breaks into forced chuckles. “Man, it’s been such a long day…”

  “We hear that,” Cory remarks.

  Rourke exhales with relief and gives her a grateful smile. She gives him a little one in return, tapping away on her keyboard. She slides his wage card, and a short receipt prints for the bill. Rourke takes a pen from the cup on her counter to sign his name. Then she trades the little receipt for his invoice.

  “Have a great day! And thanks for being honest.”

  Rourke crams the invoice and the pills into his coat pocket. A whole half sheet of paper for the secure purchase of one tube of lip balm. Fortunately, Cory has no
reason to be suspicious and doesn’t demand to see the bill.

  “Hey! Let’s hit up the game store next,” his friend says. “I want to try out Quests and Mages on the Perception console. I hear it’s kick-ass.”

  That is one good thing about the alien alphas taking over Earth and enslaving the human race to have babies. With their advanced technology, video games have become amazing.

  “Hey, Mom,” Rourke says, opening the front door.

  His mother is in her usual place on the recliner. She’s dressed in yoga pants and a bathrobe, the TV on in front of her. She has a blanket over her lap because she gets cold most the time. Magazines, newspapers, and empty cups are littered around her like nesting material. Her TV tray is empty of a plate or a bowl though, meaning she hasn’t eaten today. There’s only a clear plastic pill case where her meal ought to be.

  “Hey Martha,” calls Cory, waving, and his mother starts to get up.

  “No, Mom, sit,” Rourke says, moving her pills off the TV tray. He puts a hand on her shoulder to guide her back down. That works when Cory isn’t here, but with company she doesn’t like to seem weak. She pushes him away and rises, asking Cory loudly how he’s been.

  Rourke goes into the kitchen to heat her up some broth. She’ll sip it for him.

  Meanwhile, she asks about his and Ann’s new baby and whether Cory has any pictures. He does, of course. Always. Though Cory is always charming and patient with his mom, Rourke can sense his friend’s shoulders sagging. The second part of Cory’s double shift starts soon, and he’s only got four hours to catch a little sleep.

  Since having a kid, Cory overworks himself with a smile. His managers love him.

  To his own detriment, Cory is showing her his phone when Rourke returns with the bowl and spoon.

  “She sent me this one last night.”

  His mom coos and gushes. Rourke rolls his eyes a bit and refills the third row of the pill case with the new ones he bought. Martha looks like a little old lady clinging to Cory’s arm as he scrolls with his thumb. She had Rourke very young. She’s barely forty. But her cancer has wasted her away and made her eyes hollow and large.

  Hasn’t done a damn thing to her smile though.

  “Do you want some cookies?” she asks them both.

  Rourke huffs with irritation. He already knows that his answer doesn’t matter, and Cory is going to say yes by default. The stupid thing is that they both are tired and they’re just being extra friendly for the other’s sake.

  Rourke won’t say anything though. Not since his mother explained to him that she has to make the best of all her interactions with people now. It might be the last time she gets to see them.

  ‘Making the most’ really just means that she gabs at them all the time. Fortunately, Cory and Rourke are like brothers, so he knows the deal. He loves Martha too.

  While she has him prisoner in the kitchen, Rourke goes to his room and gets on the computer. He can’t shut his door, that would be out of habit for him, so he turns his monitor slightly away and listens for his mother’s continuous chatter. Something about a herbal cure that’s better than modern medicine.

  In his browser, he types omegasociety.moon.gov. On their front page they have a man laughing with a blue-haired baby. The slideshow fades into more images of men in bliss with their tiny children. The last shows a newborn curled up asleep, his hair a tuft of green.

  Say what you want about alphas—their children are adorable.

  If only Rourke’s stomach didn’t sink into a pit every time he looked at them. He logs in with his citizen ID and navigates to his application status. The website is a labyrinth of links and information, but he gets there in two seconds. His foot taps. He swings the chair back and forth as the page says, Fetching data, do not refresh your browser…

  His mother voice has become quiet, and he’s getting a headache.

  At last, the page spits up some text and graphics. Rourke rolls the mouse wheel fast, various bars of green scrolling past. Gene History Report, check. Background Check, green. Physical Health Exam, approved. All the way at the bottom, the very last step, it says Personal Motivation Essay.

  Prostitution is illegal, so his essay is verifiable proof that he’s not signing up for the money, and more specifically in his case, the health benefits for his mother. The Omega Society surveys his three-to six-page essay and grades him on the sincerity of what he writes, as well as reviewing all his other info for context.

  It’s the most invasive part of the application. They look into his social media accounts, his school reports, even the files his employers keep on him for anything of a personal nature that might determine if he’s using the system purely for financial benefit.

  Rourke told them he was in love with the adventurous lifestyle of being on the moon. Only in a lot more words. He doesn’t use social media much because he loves to read old-fashioned paper books. Sci-fi and fantasy are his favorite genres, which is why he pines for the wonders of space and the exotic moon culture.

  The pharmacist confirmed it, but here’s the big check mark for proof. Congratulations! it says underneath, and in bold, Account Status: Approved. There’s some more info about his case handler getting in contact with him soon, but Rourke doesn’t get to finish reading it.

  “Hey man, your Mom and I are gonna set you up.”

  “What?!” Rourke clicks to close his browser about six times. Close with active tabs? the annoying machine asks. Rourke gets trapped in a cycle where he hits the red no, then the X, then no again. Fortunately he manages to hit yes as Cory pulls his chair away from the computer.

  “We’re getting you a girlfriend, man. Your mom’s been telling me how depressed and lonely you are.”

  “Uh, I-I’m not…” Rourke stammers, his mind still running circles in the close loop. Cory takes his keyboard and mouse away, clicking to open the browser.

  Rourke grips the arms of his chair as he puts the cursor in the text field and lays his hands on the keyboard. Rourke didn’t use the private browsing mode, and he definitely didn’t clear his history. If Cory types an O, the Omega Society will come up as a suggested page. His friend hits the L, typing in lovematch.com. Rourke can breathe again. He missed it by one key. Millimeters of distance. A typo could have outed him just now.

  “We’re making you a profile and finding you some love! My kid’s gonna need your kid to marry… so you got some work to do,” Cory says, chugging from a can.

  Rourke frowns at the logo. It’s an energy drink from the fridge. They’re unhealthy, but both Rourke and Cory drink them sometimes to make it through a shift. “Cory, what the hell, you have to work in four hours! How are you going to sleep?!”

  “Relax, Rourke. I got plenty of sleep yesterday. Now… what should your lurrve handle be?”

  He types in Cory_Rourke.

  “Ugh, no,” Rourke says, laughing, trying to take the keyboard back. The inside joke is that both he and Cory have the same first name and Rourke pretends to hate using his. He never had a problem with his name until he met this other Cory, making a confusing situation for all their parents and teachers when they were boys.

  “What’s wrong? That is sexy as hell,” Cory says, chugging more of his drink.

  Rourke’s mom comes in, the smell of baking cookies drifting with her. She has the blanket around her shoulders and she shivers as she sits on the bed. But she’s smiling broadly at their mischief. Rourke’s chair rolls further back as both she and Cory take over the making of his dating profile.

  What will the Omega Society think if they’re still spying on his accounts?

  Oh well. I can always go in and delete it after.

  “Well first, Rourke, let me congratulate you on passing the exams!”

  Stephanie, his case handler, is a long-haired blonde with doll-like bangs and square glasses. The buttons on her suit jacket strain to hold form across her curves, though her waist is slim. With a concealer-painted face and overly luscious, dark eyelashes, everything about Step
hanie is artificial except for her friendliness. Which positively surrounds Rourke the moment he enters her office.

  “Were you nervous?” she asks, leaning forward over the desk like a schoolgirl with juicy gossip.

  “Not too bad,” he answers immediately, settling into the chair across from her. He’s been practising being the perfect candidate, someone completely in love with the alphas and getting pregnant and that entails.

  Her suspenseful pause prompts him to amend his answer.

  “Well, yes, maybe a little…” Her mischievous stare doesn’t let up, so he nervously admits, “I’ve been driving myself crazy, actually.”

  Satisfied, she sits back, letting the chair twirl a bit. “Yes. I saw on your report that you logged in approximately fifteen times a day to the website! Sorry to leave you in suspense. Those essays take us some time to grade for authenticity.”

  “Uh, you guys tracked me?”

  “Yes. Eagerness is a positive sign. We also track all the links you follow while you’re on our web page. Everything gets considered in your evaluation—which I’m happy to say, you passed with flying colors!” She makes air quotes and giggles at her own joke. “So to speak.”

  “Oh. Good.” He fooled them. So, the hard part’s over. Now he just has to have a baby…

  “So, let’s discuss your departure from earth, shall we?” She slides out her keyboard and starts using the computer. “Have you told your family yet?”

  Rourke shakes his head.

  “Mm. You will have to tell them now, I’m afraid. Unless you fear for your safety, in which case you can skip acknowledgment and we’ll keep you at a hotel for a few days. Until the auction is held.”

  “Um, that sounds good.” Leaving without his telling his mom is a dick move, but this just isn’t something she’ll come to terms with for a while. Likely, not until she’s at a better hospital, getting the treatment she needs. Someday close to now, he’s going to have a warm bundle in his arms, and his mother is going to arrive angry—but healthy. She’ll have her whole life to work on forgiving him.

  “It requires an assessment of your living situation and an interview with a counselor.” Her lenses reflect tiny scrolling text as she reads her monitor. “You’ll have to give us details about why coming out as an omega is unsafe in your home, then your family may be visited by social worker, but you’ll be long gone and in safe custody before that happens. You won’t be involved in any subsequent investigations.”