Chapter 1: Home, Breedhall & Orientations

The morning of Joon's twenty-first birthday didn't arrive quietly.

It seeped through the cracks of the surrogate home like steam from a bathhouse—warm, thick, clinging. The whole house felt swollen with tension, wrapped in the heat of women pretending they weren't watching him.

Joon stepped out of his room barefoot, shirtless, cock semi-hard from dreams he barely remembered and instincts he hadn't bothered to suppress. The hallway was silent. But not empty.

Yeji was already on the couch, half-asleep in her tank top and shorts, one leg curled up. Her eyes cracked open the second she sensed him, pupils dilating like a cat in heat. Her choker pulsed once, faintly pink. Every female in the Dominion wore one—the bio-linked device fused to their hormonal state and breeding rank. It wasn't just law. It was life.

"Morning," she whispered.

Joon nodded, his voice still unused. "Hey."

He padded into the kitchen. Sora stood at the stove, apron tied snug around her waist, her hair pinned up, neck bare. Her choker was off—as usual for 'Mom.' She turned slightly when he entered, smiling too slowly.

"Happy birthday, darling."

He leaned on the counter. Her eyes dropped. Just once. Just enough.

"Thanks."

She handed him a bowl of rice and eggs. Their fingers brushed. Hers lingered. The air between them thickened.

"Today's the day," she said softly.

"Mm."

"Your evaluation's at ten. Car's coming at nine."

"Got it."

Behind him, bare feet padded across wood. Minji entered, glasses slightly fogged, holding a datapad against her chest. She wore a robe that clung too well.

"Morning, Joon," she mumbled.

"Hey."

She poured coffee, hand trembling slightly as she reached for the sugar. Her choker gave the softest flicker—pink.

"Big day," she added, too casually. "I read the breeder logs. First pairings usually go long."

Joon sipped his coffee. Said nothing. But he watched her cheeks flush, and her thighs tighten under the robe.

"You should leave a good impression," she whispered.

Hana barged in last. Sports bra, sweat glistening down her abs, towel over her shoulder. Her eyes locked on his chest. Then his cock.

"Damn, you're really grown now, huh?"

Joon smirked. "Noticed just now?"

She scoffed. "Not just."

She chugged water straight from the bottle, her choker a bold, rhythmic pink. When she lowered it, her voice dropped.

"If I were ten minutes younger and you weren't technically family..."

"You'd still be late," Joon said dryly.

The kitchen went quiet.

Then the front bell chimed.

A sleek black sedan idled outside the gate, chrome accents gleaming in the morning sun. It was long, low to the ground, with tinted windows and a soft blue Dominion seal pulsing on the side door. The official transport for a Prime Breeder candidate.

Sora stepped forward, smoothing his shirt collar with too-careful hands. Her breath caught.

"You're... ready."

He kissed her cheek. Her knees nearly buckled.

Joon stepped outside, the warm morning air meeting his skin. The car door opened silently, revealing plush leather interiors and a quiet hum of climate control. He slid in.

The door shut.

The ride to the Breedhall had begun.

The Breedhall rose like a cathedral of heat and legacy—six stories of glass, chrome, and pheromonal indulgence. Its front doors were framed in soft-lit curves, designed to ease the mind and stiffen the cock.

The moment Joon stepped inside, the air changed.

Polished white floors gleamed beneath his shoes, catching the glint of choker light scattered across the massive lobby. The scent hit him next—a curated blend of arousal amplifiers, floral heat-notes, and the faintest tang of sweat. Scent diffusers hissed quietly from corners, pumping chemical invitation into the lungs of every entering breeder.

The ceiling was high and domed, painted in soft-gold skylights. Digital banners streamed updated statistics: most-bred Vessels of the day, top performing Breeders, live fertility locks. The floor beneath pulsed lightly under his steps—a sensory mat tracking his bio-signature and triggering soft reactions in every nearby choker.

Pink.

Everywhere.

Dozens of women moved through the lobby, each one a Vessel. Some wore short silken uniforms that shimmered with transparency under the dome light. Others lounged brazenly in open-backed dresses or sheer bodysuits, nipples visible, hips swaying with every teasing step. Some knelt beside Breeder platforms, licking their lips as digital boards refreshed with available pairing slots.

Their chokers pulsed in waves—soft pinks, burning reds, a flicker of gold.

Joon didn't need to say a word. The moment he entered, heads turned. Eyes widened. One girl gasped openly and clutched her thighs. Another bit her knuckle, whispering something to her friend as both flushed deep beneath their collars.

He walked forward like instinct moved his feet.

The Breedhall was watching.

And so were the girls inside it.

[SYSTEM PING]

Aura Spike Detected: 12.7m radius

Ovulation Sync: 37 Matches

Choker Pulses: 29 Active

"Candidate 03124? Joon?"

He turned.

A woman in a sharp white uniform approached from behind the reception desk. Her blue choker marked her as Breedhall Staff—a handler, specialized in candidate intake and pairing logistics.

"Candidate 03124? Joon?" she asked, confirming with a glance at her wrist display.

Joon nodded.

She stepped forward with a practiced smile and a smooth bow of the head. "I'm Sena. Your Orientation Handler. Welcome to your Dominion future."

Her voice was silk wrapped in authority. And her eyes? Already scanning him head to toe with that particular breed of hungry professionalism.

"Your bio-signature was logged the moment you entered. The system's already synced your pheromone trail and sent pulses through every compatible choker within 15 meters."

[SYSTEM NOTICE: Orientation Sync Complete]

Ovulation Link: 37 Vessels Nearby

Arousal Match: 81% Average

Stream Auto-Ready: LIVE mode enabled post-selection

"You're scheduled for your first pairing today. As a Prime Breeder candidate, you're authorized to choose from three certified Red Choker Vessels. High-fertility, full consent, and kink-matched to your compatibility profile."

She handed him a touchpad, its surface flickering to life with vivid color-coded stats and videos.

"These are yours to claim, Joon. Just tap the one who'll take your first load—and earn her status upgrade by womb."

She handed him a screen. Three profiles lit up with animated bios and short intro videos:

Vessel Option 1: Suri

Age: 23

Choker: 🔴 Red (Priority Vessel)

Fertility Score: 94

Kink Profile: Obedience Play, Praise Addiction

Notes: Craves affirmation, folds under eye contact, strong creampie reflex

Vessel Option 2: Nami

Age: 25

Choker: 🔴 Red (Priority Vessel)

Fertility Score: 91

Kink Profile: Breath Control, Ritual Breeding

Notes: Submission is formal, moans during cock worship, heat cycles peak under restraint

Vessel Option 3: Rhea

Age: 22

Choker: 🔴 Red (Priority Vessel)

Fertility Score: 97

Kink Profile: Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk

Notes: Loves being filmed, flares pink under crowds, excels in stage-room performances

Sena leaned closer. "All three have synced to your pheromones. They're waiting behind separate doors. Once you choose, the stream activates."

She gestured to the hallway—three Breed Chambers, each softly glowing with ambient lighting. One pulsed red. One glowed gold. One shimmered pink-purple.

Joon studied the profiles. His thumb hovered over the panel.

"Make your mark, breeder," Sena whispered. "Which kind of first moan do you want to own?"

He tapped.

And the door opened.

The first fuck of his new life began.

And across Dominion, pink and black chokers flared in sync.