Author: Sterling Title: Men Are Just Testicles In Prison Summary: After a pandemic nearly exterminates humanity, conditions are right for women to form a radical feminist government. The few males who are suffered to live are imprisoned and used as sperm donors. But a few women dare to discover that they are by nature attracted to men. Alison rescues her lover Bill from his cell and they live as rebels. Other women join them. Keywords: MF MFFF preg rom tears cons het ScFi PostApoc Fdom group harem 1st oral solo mastrb preg NOTICE: This story contains explicit sex. First posted 5/31/2013. I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com. I have written many other stories and they can all be found at /files/Authors/Sterling/ For an index see /files/Authors/Sterling/A%20%20SUBJECT%20INDE X.txt You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire text unchanged, including this notice. If you tell me where you have re-posted it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated and perhaps enjoy the feedback the story gets where you re-post it. Sterling And now, our feature presentation. Enjoy! ============================================================ Men Are Just Testicles In Prison Chapter 1 Bill tried to keep calm, but it was hard. Anna had told him he had better be on his very best behavior or he'd suffer the consequences. He was in a large covered building usually used for cattle shows. In the arena itself were a dozen or so poles stuck firmly into the ground, spaced evenly 15 yards apart in a row. At each pole was a young man, hands cuffed behind his back, tied to the pole. Bill was naked except for a sort of loose skirt that came down to mid-thigh, and his bare feet stood on rutted dirt that still smelled of cattle and their leavings. In the bleachers were a few hundred women. In front of the bleachers was a platform raised several feet above the ground. On it was a long table, and seated behind it, facing the bleachers, were several gray-haired women. The one in the center rose. "Attention, everyone! We gather once more in the spirit of Dworkinism, hoping as always to move a little closer to the ideal society we have set out to create. Welcome on this beautiful fall afternoon to the first North Central Sperm Exchange. Some of you have come a considerable distance and we welcome you especially. "We Dworkinians have largely achieved our goal of eradicating the patriarchy. There is no glass ceiling to prevent a woman's rise in her career. There are no wolf whistles, no pinched butts, no crude jokes. No woman or girl goes out at night with that nagging fear that she might get raped. No woman within marriage is raped to satisfy her husband's base desires. No woman cowers in fear before the physical power and cruelty of her husband, facing the agonizing choice of getting beaten yet once more or leaving to live with her children in abject poverty. We have solved these problems by eliminating men from society!" Smatterings of applause from the crowd during her speech coalesced into a substantial ovation. After it subsided, she continued. "As was noted many decades ago, the only necessary function males serve is as a source of sperm. Many of us thought we'd never see the day when that was all we needed them for, but as sweet fruit of the unspeakably bitter holocaust, that day has come! That is why we're here today. To prevent inbreeding within our various communities, we need to exchange genetic material, which is of course most conveniently accomplished by exchanging the living male sources of this material. Up until now this has been handled privately, but there have been limitations. Rarely have communities had young males come of age at the same time to arrange a direct swap. Giving one now in expectation of getting one some number of years down the line has proved problematic. Young males have been bought and sold, but they have sold for as little as $300 and as much as $59,000, leaving one party or the other feeling cheated by the extremes in price. "Markets -- carefully but fairly regulated, as always -- are a pillar of the good society. The time has come to create a market for sperm producers. Here before you today we have 14 source of sperm. Fourteen pairs of testicles and -- oh yeah -- the young men they are attached to." The word 'men' was emphasized with disapproval. "This is a pilot program. Other regions in North American are watching us." "These young males are all basically well behaved. They are at least 18 years of age, and they produce semen on command, deposit it in the cup provided and hand it over. The semen of each one has been microscopically examined and determined to have high sperm counts with excellent motility. Five of these specimens before you have had their sperm used to successfully start at least one pregnancy. They are all free of any known diseases or genetic defects. Their pedigrees are on record for your examination. Naturally our communities allow only the most accomplished of their women carry a male pregnancy to term -- and I'm proud to say that accomplishment includes mastery of the revolutionary Dworkinian ideology. So here before you are sources of the genetic diversity we seek, however repugnant the male animals those genes currently reside within. When the sperm that unites with one of our eggs is lacking the hateful Y chromosome, the result is a daughter -- a new citizen of our glorious society. In this way is the Dworkinian dream to be realized!" There was more applause. "So now we come to the practical matter of how the auction is to be conducted. Our next speaker will explain the procedure to you..." Ten yards in front of each boy was a table, with two or occasionally three women seated behind it. At his own table was his handler Sarah and also Mary, an older woman who was a leader in his community, Washington Lake. Once the second speaker had finished her explanations, many women filed down from the grandstand to start evaluating the boys available for purchase. Typically they first paid a visit to the table before approaching the boy. A trio of women approached Bill, and he gulped. Sarah had made it clear what was riding on this. More prosperous communities could afford to bid a higher price, and that prosperity would likely mean his cell would be nicer and his food more varied. If there was no bid at all, he would go back to Washington Lake for another year until the next auction. But as he well knew, the only reason his existence was tolerated was because he was a source of sperm. If he brought little or no interest in the marketplace, there was certainly no reason for him to go on living. Sarah stated this as a simple, obvious fact, and of course it made sense to Bill too. But however pathetic and worthless he might be, he wanted to live! He had heard that there were a few other boys growing up in his community, and they could probably sell one of them for a good price. Sarah said Mark in particular was looking more promising than him. He had never met Mark. Boys were never allowed to meet, it had been explained, because they might encourage each other in patriarchal thoughts and behaviors springing from the male evil within. On this day he stole glances at the young men on either side and he saw them checking him out, but naturally any attempt to communicate with them would be viewed unfavorably. "Hello, William," said one of the approaching women. "How are you today?" "I'm fine, ma'am," he said meekly. "And how do you see your place in life, William?" Bill was puzzled. "Excuse me, ma'am, I'm afraid I don't understand." "You are here today being offered for sale. If we buy you, how do you see yourself fitting into our community? How do you feel about it?" "My role is to provide sperm when requested. Because I am male, I am an inferior and pathetic person and providing sperm is my only purpose in life. I am grateful for the chance to serve Dworkinism in the only way fitting to one of my gender." The first woman nodded approvingly. "Nice color of hair," said one of the others. "Yes, and not too much chest hair," said the third. "And look, his beard is quite full. That's a good sign." "He seems awfully tall and muscular. Just the sort of traits that rapists had," said the second. "But our security is excellent," said the third. "And the genes that make men tall and muscular also tend to produce tall and muscular daughters." "True," said the second. "But his skin is pale, and his face... I don't know. Would you like your daughters to look like that?" "Hmmm," said the first woman. "Let's go on to the next." "Wait," said the third. "Who knows how the auction will go? We ought to look at what we'd be paying for." The first woman said, "I'm glad you're willing to do this. I couldn't fact touching those disgusting things even once!" "You get used to it," said the third. With that she moved to his front and the other two gathered behind her. All three faces wore sour expressions as she reached in and lifted Bill's skirt. She lifted his limp penis with one hand, and with her other hand found each testicle and rubbed it between her fingers. She then withdrew her hands and let the skirt fall, immediately taking the antiseptic paper towel one of the others offered and carefully cleaning her hands. "Seems OK," she said. The first woman said, "I think numbers 6 and 7 are still our top choices. I'd hate to be stuck with this specimen." "Well of course," said the second woman as she tossed the towel into a small wastebasket not far from Bill's feet. "But we don't know how the bidding will go." And without any further word to him they strolled on to the next boy in line. A group of five women wandered up and without a word to him looked him up and down. "I'm sure we'll do better than that," said one, "given what we're prepared to pay." "Shhh!" hissed another. "You can never be sure, and we shouldn't reveal our intentions. We have to at least pretend to be interested." With that, she walked around behind him, nodding thoughtfully, and when she was in front of him lifted his skirt to take a look at his genitals. "Yes, very interesting," she said absentmindedly and joined the others who were already part way to the next boy's table. One group of four approached and took only the briefest look at his sexual apparatus, but they pressed fingers into his thighs and calves, back and front. One rubbed his nipples in her fingers and pressed more deeply around that area. One got close to his ear and suddenly shouted, "Boo!" Naturally Bill jumped a little, but remembered that above all he must be kind and polite. A couple of the other women looked at her questioningly, and she said, "It's important to learn his temperament." The next group to visit was just a pair of women, one fairly old and the other younger. "Hello, William, my name is Emily," said the older one. "And I'm Amy," said the younger, who actually looked into his eyes and smiled. "Hello, pleased to meet you," said Bill, smiling in turn but quickly looking away, fearing he might be seen as insolent. All of the women wore baggy clothing of one sort or other, but there was something about this younger woman that made his heart beat a little faster. He only dared occasional glances, of course, as he had been taught anything more was very rude. But when she lifted his skirt, he realized that his penis was no longer small and insignificant. While it was still pointed downward, it was near its full size. He caught a brief smile on Amy's face. She then did something none of the other women had: she wrapped her fingers around his penis in a gentle hold, and she gave a few gentle squeezes a few seconds apart. Bill closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, as he felt more blood surging into his penis. This was no good! Sarah and the others had made it clear that the only time he should get an erection was when he was providing a semen sample. Erections at other times suggested his rapist nature was not controllable. Emily moved to the side and saw what was happening. "Amy!" she scolded. "What are you doing! If anyone saw you!..." "It's OK, mom," she said, removing her hand and letting the skirt fall back into position and giving her mother an impish grin. "That is what we're buying him for, right?" "Yes, but it's very impolite -- what is everyone going to think?" "Oh, don't worry," said Amy with a smile. Bill realized with shame that his penis was growing harder all the time. It was tenting out his skirt in dramatic fashion. "Oh, look!" cried a woman who was in front of the boy to his left, pointing at his bulge from 15 yards away. Other heads turned, and reactions varied. Some rolled their eyes, others shook their heads in disgust, and a few smirked, but all quickly turned their heads aside. Emily turned red, and Amy too looked a little flustered. They were blocking the sight line between him and Sarah, but when the two of them moved on, Sarah and Mary instantly saw the bulge at the same time. Mary rolled her eyes and gave Sarah a dirty look. Sarah gave him a very cold stare. Bill looked away, miserable, but one effect was that his erection started shrinking rapidly. Mary saw Sarah's reaction and said quietly, "Don't worry, dear, it's not your fault. And there's Mark coming along." After a pause she spoke very quietly, but Bill could hear her. "I don't know if it's worth keeping him another year, though, do you?" Sarah shook her head almost imperceptibly, looking down. "But after all I've done for him..." Bill got the picture. His erection would make him unsaleable, and they wouldn't bring him back in a year. That meant he would be killed. He wondered how long it would be. His heart pounded as he realized he might have only days to live. Maybe only hours! As the women continued their inspections, none stopped to look at him any more. Bill tried to be brave. He wasn't sure he'd be killed; he wasn't even sure no one would buy him. But he found himself fighting back tears. He managed not to sob and got himself under control before long, but he could feel a line of tears rolling down each cheek. He spotted Amy and Emily in the bleachers, talking to each other and consulting notes. Amy looked at him and furrowed her brow, and he then saw her leave her seat and wander down to the boy next to him. She then walked in front of him to get to the boy on his other side, but as she passed she stole a couple glances at him, and after a few seconds at the other boy she returned to her mother. He saw them whispering and looking at him, and her mother looking thoughtful. The second woman on the platform, the one in charge of the details, said, "Comrades, the open inspections are now over and the bidding will start in a minute." After a few minutes all the women had returned to the bleachers. "All auctions will start at $1,000. The minimum raise is $100. Each community has a red number, and you should raise it high when you want to make a bid..." "Comrades, the auction is now open on number one. Do I hear $1,000? There, good. $1,100? Over there. Yes. $1,200? OK. How about $1,500? Got you. $2,000? Yes... $3,000? Right. $5,000? Got it. $10,000?" Up and up the bids went, and the boy finally sold for $15,300. The auction on boy number 2 was slower, and he went for $5,900. Bill was number 9. He gave a sigh of relief when there were no bids at all on number 3. At least he wouldn't be the only one. Number 4 went for $13,700, number 5 for $8,000 even. The bidding for number 6 went rapidly to $20,000, at which point all extraneous chatter ceased and the audience whispered excitedly. He finally sold for $42,400, and there was a smattering of applause. Number 7 went for $4,900 and number 8 for $8,100. Then it was his turn. Bill's eyes had kept a watch on Amy and Emily throughout the auction. They had made a bid on a few of the others, but never above $1,800 and never close to the winning bid. "OK, next up for auction is number 9. Do I hear $1,000?" Emily was holding the bidding token, and he saw her start to raise her arm, but Amy grabbed it firmly and kept it down. Emily looked at her questioningly. Amy took the bidding token from her, and Emily shrugged. "$1,000? Anyone?" There were no bids. Bill's ears picked up a murmured, "Fat chance." "Last call? $1,000?" And then Amy raised her hand high. "$1,000, we have a bid of $1,000! Do I hear $1,100? ... $1,100 anyone? No? $1,000 going once... going twice... sold for $1,000!" And then Bill breathed a big sigh of relief. With one motion of her arm Amy had saved his life. When the auction was over, a group of four muscular women unstaked each boy in turn and led him to the truck or van of the community that was his new owner. Amy and Emily had only a car, and although the security women expressed some doubt about the safety of this arrangement, they shrugged when Emily explained that the backseat girl locks were set. They pushed him into the back, where he barely avoided banging his head on the far door. They folded his legs in and slammed the door behind him. After the car had pulled out onto the highway, Amy turned and smiled at him a couple times, briefly. --------------------------------------------------------- This is a tale of a different reality, one that did not happen to us. The year is 1981, the year that AIDS reared its very ugly head in our own world. We didn't know how lucky we had it. In this parallel and diverging universe, the microbe that fell upon the human race was far, far more deadly. It was highly contagious and spread through droplets in the air and skin contact. The incubation period under normal circumstances was two to three weeks, meaning it had spread far beyond any hope of containment in the jet age before it was even identified. The inherent fatality rate in men was about 99%, and in women and girls 88%. The death rate for young boys was a mere 98%. The first symptom of the disease was insanity of a form somewhat similar to rabies. In men, it was an aggressive insanity including an insatiable desire for sex. This was followed by increasing joint pain over the course of four or five days, and at the end fever and death. The women who received the semen of an infected man vaginally contracted a vastly accelerated version of the disease. They became ill within hours and after a day of agony they all expired. With these deaths included, the mortality rate in women and girls rose to 94%. The incubation period for men was typically two weeks and for women about three weeks. This meant that in any given community, the first sign of the disease was increasing insanity on the part of men, followed by a spree of rape that killed women. By the time unraped infected women started dying, it had little impact on the community's state of mind. Women are naturally enraged at rape under all circumstances, but in this case almost all the men became violent rapists, and the act of rape was literally lethal to the woman. Many women tried to flee when the disease made an appearance, but men retained enough sanity to be clever about tracking them down. The anger of women was aroused as never before, and some were enraged enough to murder any men they met. This resulted in an actual fatality rate for men of over 99.5%. Of course most women are simply not murderers. But most trusting women died, and the suspicious and ruthless survived. No corner of the globe was untouched by the plague, but after wreaking its toll on an area for a month, it simply vanished, never to return. The social chaos around the globe was indescribable. Yet out of a world population of 7 billion, a death rate of 94% left 210 million women to survive. At least half of the women survivors died in the social chaos from starvation, the plagues humanity was already familiar with, and violent clashes borne of fear and a search for resources. But all of these facts were determined much later, by women scientists poring over the evidence systematically. Women coalesced into groups for survival, most with at least 100 members. Existing predominant ideologies had nothing to offer of comfort for this crisis. But in the United States and Canada, one fringe ideology leapt to prominence and garnered immense support: the idea that men are all brutal rapists who can never be trusted, creatures who should be eliminated from society except for a few kept around to provide sperm. The ideology became known as Dworkinism, in honor of Andrea Dworkin. She had not actually said, as some alleged, that "all sex is rape", but she had said, "Penetrative intercourse is, by its nature, violent." The Dworkinian ideology fit the lessons of the holocaust, and in contrast to other potential leaders who had lost their way, the women at its core were energized, dedicated and efficient. They soon assumed power and their ideas were accepted by most women in the wake of what they had witnessed. As they took stock and considered the future, the women realized they were confronted with a largely empty continent. This triggered the natural human urge to increase population and expand. Much of the advanced technology of the era was lost and rediscovered over the course of decades, but intense effort was put into retrieving and strengthening genetic testing for gender. All but the tiniest portion of male pregnancies were to be terminated. This did not conflict with the desire to repopulate the earth, for population growth is fundamentally constrained by the number of uteruses in a society. Aborting most male fetuses had little effect. However tragic the circumstances, there was at last the opportunity to realize the most radical of feminist dreams: to destroy the patriarchy at its roots, to largely eliminate maleness as a force in the social fabric by eliminating males. Ideologies on other continents varied, but with population so low and vast tracts of fallow land available for expansion -- and with women in charge -- aggression or domination across vast oceans was not a factor for a very long time. Bill's auction took place in 2011, 30 years after the holocaust. ============================================================ Chapter 2 It was long after dark when Emily drove the car down a dirt road, brought it to a stop and cut the engine. "Welcome to the Shady Pines community, Bill," said Amy. His hands still cuffed behind his back, Amy and Emily escorted him into a brick building, down some stairs and into a small locked room with nothing but a cot and a toilet. Bill was above all thankful to be alive, but he was also very tired. Once the cell door was locked, he turned around to present his hands so Amy could unlock the handcuffs. They turned out the light as they left. But he could see well enough to use the toilet and collapse on the cot under the blanket provided. When he awoke in the morning he rose to take a closer look at his new surroundings. His cell was much smaller than the one he'd had at Washington Lake. Outside was a short corridor with a few file cabinets in it, and through an open doorway across the hall he could see a cluttered storeroom. Or perhaps it would be better termed a room with mounds of junk. The patterns of light showed there was a window in that room out of his sight to the left. Way to his left he could just barely see a small dirty window set high in the wall, which made sense for a basement. "Hello?" he asked tentatively at first, then louder, but no one answered. The room was a bit chilly for a man wearing nothing but a short skirt. With nothing better to do, he lay down on his cot to wait. He heard footsteps on the stairs and sat up. A stout gray-haired woman arrived carrying a tray. He certainly wouldn't speak unless spoken to. Without looking at him, she placed a bowl, spoon, and plastic bottle on the floor outside his cell. She motioned to him and he reached out through the bars to pull the items in. The bowl and spoon slid under the bottom bar, and he could bring the bottle in between two bars. The woman left without a word. The clear liquid in the bottle was water. The bowl contained oatmeal with a few raisins and a small cube of cheese in the middle. He would soon discover that all meals were as plain as his breakfast, and variety was very limited. After he had finished breakfast he lay down again to wait. After a while -- he had no way of measuring time -- he heard another set of footsteps and Amy appeared. "Good morning, Bill," she said. "Good morning, ma'am," he said. "You can call me Amy," she said with a smile. "Good morning, Amy." "Did you sleep well?" "Fine." "That skirt looks funny on you -- let me see what I can get." She went into the storeroom across the hall and emerged with a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants and handed them through the bars. He figured he would change later, but she waited expectantly. So he donned the sweatshirt, then turned his back, slipped the skirt off and pulled the sweatpants up. "So, what can I tell you?" she asked. "Um, whatever you think I ought to know to perform my duty," he said, looking down. "Huh. I guess they really drilled it into you over at Washington Lake. Even Rachel couldn't get Carl to behave like this. Or maybe you were just a very good boy." Bill was a little bit annoyed but remembered to be above all subservient and cause no trouble. "Rachel? Carl?" "Ah. Carl was our previous sperm donor, and Rachel was his handler. But we've swapped and now I'm your handler." "Oh, good," said Bill with a trace of enthusiasm. Amy noticed and gave him a brief smile. "I want to thank you for buying me," he said. "I really didn't deserve it. After what happened, I was afraid I'd have to go home again." "You didn't like Washington Lake?" "No, it was fine. A nicer room than this, actually," he said, looking around, but then added quickly, "Not that I'm complaining! This will be just fine. But it sounded like they were going to kill me." Amy laughed out loud, but then stopped when she realized Bill was serious. "I guess they could have, too, couldn't they..." She shook her head, and after a moment's silence spoke again. "I think we got a good deal on you. When I was inspecting your organs, I noticed your penis was already pretty big, and it was partly out of curiosity that I squeezed it. And it responded just like I read -- I mean, just like I'd been taught, though I didn't really believe it until it happened." "I'm so sorry, Amy. I know a male should only get an erection when providing a sample." "Well, it was embarrassing. But you see, that worked in our favor. That's why we could get you so cheap. And I don't think an erection is a bad thing." "You don't?" Bill was incredulous. "More on that some other time, perhaps. But then you were crying. I came down to check. And I told my mother that emotional sensitivity is a good thing, and she had to agree with that." "Oh." Bill wasn't sure what to make of that. "Why didn't you let Emily bid when I first came up for auction?" "You were watching us?" "Um... Well, you were the most memorable person who examined me. Or, I mean, it was the most memorable experience." Amy laughed. "In case anyone else was on the edge of bidding, I wanted to discourage them, to reinforce the idea you were worthless and that we were reluctant. I don't know what we would have done if we hadn't gotten you. Our limit was $1,800, and money's tight around here just now... Not that that is any concern of yours. But number 3; we just couldn't face it. He was just plain ugly." "Dworkinism teaches that concern with physical appearance was a cruelty imposed by the patriarchy." "Yes, well. That's all fine and good in theory. But our daughters will look like whoever we get, and we just couldn't face having them look like him." Bill said into the silence, "Um, well, where am I? What is this place?" "You are in the former town jail. Well, it's still the jail, I guess. If we had some woman we needed to lock up, we'd put them in one of the other two cells. This is the old police station, which we don't use much any more. Hardly at all since the men are all gone. There's hardly any crime. A great achievement of Dworkinism." "Certainly! If you don't mind my asking... What happened to Carl?" "Oh, he died," said Amy with a wave of her hand, but she looked uncomfortable. "Anyway, it's time to earn you keep. We don't have any women trying to get pregnant just now, but we still want to get the procedure down. Here, could you give me a sperm sample in this?" She handed him a clear plastic cup with a lid. "Certainly," he said. "I'll be upstairs. Just holler when you're ready." He heard her footsteps head up the stairs and lay back on his cot, pulling down the sweatpants. With visions of Amy's pretty face and memories of her hand from the day before, his erection was soon hard. He stroked away and after maybe 20 seconds reached his climax and caught his spurts and dribbles in the provided cup. He wiped his hand on his thigh, put himself back together and called for Amy. "That was quick!" she said with a smile as she reappeared. He handed her the cup. She took the lid off and looked at his production with more than clinical interest. She took a deep sniff before closing the lid again. "Bye, Bill," she said with a warm smile before disappearing up the stairs. He managed to get some books and magazines. The books included the Dworkinian histories and manifestos that he had read many times before. The magazine was in the same vein, though they had an issue he hadn't seen back at Washington Lake. When he asked for algebra and chemistry textbooks, Amy seemed surprised, but he got them. His path in life required no education -- unless one counts how to manipulate one's penis to create a sample and then catch it in a cup. But he had been taught reading and mathematics at Washington Lake and his proficiency was noted. Intelligence was partly heritable, and Dworkinism sought smarter daughters by use of the sperm of smarter fathers. --------------------------------------------------------- A couple days later a new woman came down the stairs. She was older than Amy but younger than Emily, and had a cold face. "You must be Bill," she said. "Yes, I am. And you?" "That is none of your business. I teach the second grade, and girls need to learn about men. I am going to bring them down here to observe you tomorrow. You will be able to provide semen, I trust?" "Um, yes ma'am." He wasn't clear how semen related to second graders, but this woman obviously didn't care for unsolicited questions. "Very well. We will be here tomorrow." And with that she left. The next morning, Bill heard the class of chattering girls long before they got to his building, and soon enough they tromped down the stairs. And then there were a dozen small girls gathered outside his cell along with their teacher. Bill stayed seated on his cot, anxious not to offend the unfriendly woman. "Don't get too close, class!" she chided. "Remember, men are dangerous. They are always dangerous, and you should never forget that." Addressing Bill, she said, "Stand up and take all your clothes off." He stood and slowly removed his sweatshirt and sweatpants. The girls stared at his shameful male equipment, and a few giggled. "This is what a man's body looks like. It's very strange. That tube is called a penis, and it looks harmless now, right? Well, wait a few minutes. You, lift your penis so the girls can see your testicles. And come closer to the bars." Bill did as he was told. "In that sac there are two testicles,and they produce something we women need in order to have babies. It's the only reason we allow any males to live." The girls looked on solemnly, and Bill was careful not to make eye contact. He kept his face expressionless. "Now, class, let me remind you how things were. Before the Dworkinian revolution, there were as many males as females, and as many boys as girls. But the men kept women in slavery. They made women wear uncomfortable clothing and paint their faces whatever way suited their fancy. If they let them leave the house at all, they told women where they could go and how to spend every minute of the day. Men took all the challenging, fun, and interesting jobs for themselves and made women do all the boring and dirty and disgusting work. Men ruled women because they were stronger and never afraid to use violence to get their way. They would beat up the women, lock them up, and threaten them with weapons. And the root of it all was the violence of sex. Now, you in there, start masturbating to produce your semen." Bill dutifully started stroking himself, and the blood slowly filled his organ. "Notice how it's changing, class. Before it was small and floppy. See how it's getting larger? This organ had one and only one purpose. Men used it to puncture women's bodies -- to stab them. The men dreamt about it, planned it, and typically every day they found a woman and did violence to her. They stabbed it into her body, right up between her legs. They got great pleasure out of humiliating and violating women this way, and the women had no choice but to take it. Now, Bill, go ahead and produce your semen... Actually pretend you are stabbing it into a woman." Bill held his hand still and used his hips to thrust his penis into it. He had heard this history before and knew just how horrible men were, though she went beyond even what was in the manifestos. "Um, where should I put the semen, ma'am?" he asked softly. "Just let it fly out onto the floor," she said, then turned to her class and spoke in a low, urgent voice. "He's starting to feel pleasure as he imagines violating a woman standing in front of him. He thinks about how much pain she's in and how terrible she feels to have that disgusting thing tearing her inner parts. See how big it is? Can you imagine that stabbing up into your body? Imaging how much it would hurt! One stab isn't enough -- see how he wants to do it over and over again, to make the woman as miserable as possible. He feels more and more pleasure as he thinks of how much pain he causes the woman and -- look closely at the tip, girls..." Bill was close, and with the teacher's approval he gave a last few thrusts into his hand and then shuddered and sighed as the semen shot out onto the floor. A few girls gasped and one giggled. "Eleanor, this isn't funny!" hissed the teacher, and the girl sobered up right away. "A man's nature is to complete the humiliation by shooting that disgusting stuff up into the woman's body. He knew that any time he did that it could make the woman pregnant with his baby, and that's what he wanted to do. A woman had no choice about when she got pregnant or whose baby she would have -- men just decided these things. They enjoyed violating and humiliating and hurting her. If the woman did get pregnant, all the work and expense of raising the child were on her shoulders, and the man did nothing. He just kept doing the fun and exciting work, ordering women around and hurting them in various ways, but most often by puncturing their bodies, over and over again, day after day." She paused and took a breath. "But those days are gone now. We only keep enough men around to make semen. The men are dangerous, so we keep them locked up, and it is we who decide when to get pregnant and the men provide the sperm when we tell them to. Then we can gently and carefully place it up into our bodies to start babies." She turned to Bill and snarled, "So, get down on your knees and pick up the semen with your fingers." Bill complied. "Now rub it in your hair." Bill hesitated. "Do it!" she said sharply. "These days we tell men what to do." He did it. "Any questions, class?" A small girl with green eyes and reddish hair asked, "Is he sad being locked up all the time?" "We don't worry about that, class. Whether he is or not is unimportant. For centuries upon centuries, men took pleasure in making women feel as miserable as possible, and now the tables are turned. If they suffer, men are paying for the evils of all the men who came before. They're lucky to be alive at all, and they know their only purpose is to provide semen when we ask for it... Any other questions?" There were none, and the woman led her class out without a word. A couple of the girls looked at him and he couldn't help making brief eye contact. A few even smiled, but he didn't dare smile back. Bill had nothing absorbent other than his clothing, so he tried to wipe the sperm from his hair onto his sweatshirt, but it did little good. He dressed again and lay down. He'd heard how horrible men were before, of course, but the picture she painted was even more grim. Were Sarah and the others just being nice to him in sparing him the details? Was his pleasure actually from imagining causing women pain? It didn't seem that way, but he probably just wasn't thinking about it right. It sure did feel good to make the sperm come out, so he certainly hadn't advanced much past his forefathers. It was a good thing they kept him locked up; if he was free he would undoubtedly try to hurt and humiliate women. He couldn't concentrate on any of the books, so he just lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for whatever was next -- a meal, if nothing else. ============================================================ Chapter 3 "Hi, Bill," said Amy. "Hi, Amy." Her visits were definitely the highlight of his day. This time she was carrying a shallow pan full of water, a bar of soap, and a towel. "Time to clean up." "Oh," said Bill. He pulled the offered items into his cell and looked at them doubtfully. "How did you get clean at Washington Lake?" "They let me go to a shower every few days." "Oh, fancy place! Here you just give yourself a sponge bath. Mind if I watch?" "No," he said simply. The way she said it made him feel nice. She could of course watch if she wanted anyway, but she was giving him a choice. While he stripped, she pulled up a chair and sat, her khaki-clad legs splayed wide apart, arms folded across her chest. Bill tried to suppress his thoughts, but he couldn't help noticing Amy's pretty face and friendly smile. He was naked, washing himself, and she was watching. He saw her eyes looking at his sex organs. Although her body was completely covered, the way the cloth spread tightly over her crotch made it apparent that she wasn't like him between the legs. He'd occasionally seen little girls down there from a distance, but he'd never seen a woman. Did he have a deep desire to stab his penis into Amy and cause her agony and humiliation? He wasn't aware of such a desire at all, but he guessed it was just his nasty male nature deceiving him. These fleeting thoughts made his penis grow. He turned away from her and tried to finish his washing as quickly as possible. "Say, your penis is getting stiff again, and you weren't touching it. Just like at the auction when I lifted that skirt thing. What's the story with that?" "I'm so sorry," said Bill. "I'll do my best to keep it from happening in the future. If you have ideas for how I can improve myself and keep it from happening, I'll gladly try them." "Wait," she said all of a sudden. "Is it me?" "Oh, no, of course not! I mean... I would never do that, never think of you in a bad way. It would be terrible of me!" But Amy was smiling and looking at him skeptically. Bill was stepping hastily back into the dirty sweatpants. "No, no, take those off again," said Amy with a smile. Miserably, Bill complied. "Now come stand here at the bars... Face me." His cock was growing again. There was just something about her face. She reached her hand out slowly to grasp his penis, but he pulled back. "Why are you doing that?" he asked. 'Why did you do that at the auction? My organs are disgusting, right? And my penis should never get hard except when I'm giving a sample! I try to overcome my male nature but you make it so difficult!" "Oh... Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her smile gone. He suddenly realized that he had gone beyond his station, questioning his handler, who undoubtedly had her reasons. And he knew that saying all that was risky. If Shady Grove got tired of him, they could simply kill him, as easily as Washington Lake. He gathered again his calm and submissive voice and said, "I am sorry, ma'am. You know best. I will do whatever you command to the best of my ability." Amy regarded him thoughtfully. "You really believe it all, don't you? Interesting. You could tell Carl never really believed it." "Believe what?" "Everything in the Dworkinian manifesto. Especially all the stuff about men." Bill was wary of a trap, but Amy's expression put him at ease. It was almost as if she thought he was a woman -- a real person. But she also made his loins stir, which was the start of the male response that would soon make him intent on brutalizing her. "Um, it's what I've been taught." "But does it make sense to you?" Bill sat on the cot, dressed once again, and listened warily. "Of course, ma'am. We are moving forward to the perfect society under Dworkinism. " "Can I tell you a secret?" "What do you mean?" "Can I tell you something and you promise not to tell anyone else?" "Yes, I know what a secret is," he said, trying to hide his irritation. "But why?" He was trying to think why he'd tell anyone else. She was the one in charge of him, but her smile loosened him up. "Yes, I can," he said definitely. "In the attic, my mother has tons of books and magazines from the old days that she's not really supposed to have. All books that aren't specifically allowed are banned because they perpetuate harmful obsolete thought patterns and interfere with finally building the Dworkinian society." "That sounds wise." "Yes, well... If my mother found out I'd be in big trouble. I'm really not supposed to look at them." Bill nodded. Amy sighed and shifted in her seat. "But how can knowing something be worse than not knowing it? Anyway, let me tell you what I've discovered about men. It's true that men were dominant over women on the whole, but it was way more complicated than that. Men could only have sex with women if the women said they could." Bill raised his eyebrows. "OK, rape did occur, and women worried about it. But at least 3/4 of women never got raped, and the others it was usually just a time or two. It was a crime, and if a man got caught, people -- men, often -- would send him to prison for a long time. Men couldn't marry women unless they agreed to it. Even when they were married the man couldn't have sex with his wife unless she said it was OK." Bill nodded noncommittally. This was sounding far-fetched. "A few men did enjoy causing women pain, but most didn't. Men loved women, and did their best to make them happy. And here's the biggest thing. You know how the Dworkinian position is that all sex is rape? That women submit to men's desires?" Bill nodded. "Well, it's not true. Women wanted it. They craved sex a lot and missed it." "Pain? They wanted pain? To have their bodies punctured?" "No! Women have a hole, built just for sex. It's called a vagina. It's big enough for a penis to slide in without causing any damage or pain. The woman felt good when the penis was sliding in and out of her. She felt pleasure -- a lot of pleasure." Bill looked at Amy with unease. This was contrary to everything he'd been taught. "But women are meant to love each other as equals. The idea that a woman wants a penis was one of the big lies of the patriarchy. Semen can be placed in a vagina with something very small like an eyedropper, and a vagina is a birth canal." He also realized his penis was getting hard again, so he raised the nearer leg to block it from Amy's view. "Yeah, well..." Amy sighed. "That's the theory, isn't it? We women date each other, kiss, and sleep together. We know how to give each other orgasms. It's nice." Bill felt jealous. He knew women felt ecstasy at the culmination of sex with other women, and his own pleasure when he produced semen was the primitive counterpart of the real pleasure women felt. If only he could be a woman and feel some of those things! "But Bill, there's something missing! Dworkinism teaches us that our vaginas may change and release fluid when we get excited, but this is a primitive reaction -- paltry self-defense against the stab wounds men inflicted on us -- and inconsistent with true pleasure, which is of course from the clitoris. That's the teaching. But I put my finger in my vagina when I'm excited, and it feels good, damn it! Two fingers feels better than one, and the in and out motion feels just right. I've tried it with some of my lovers -- starting to put my finger in them. A couple told me I shouldn't do that, but a couple let me, and they thought it felt good, and then admitted they'd done it themselves. But they were ashamed of it and assumed I was too." Amy looked at him intently. "I like it that your penis gets hard when you look at me. It's exciting. You don't want to hurt me, you're just interested. It's natural! Or at least I think it's me you're interested in." She lowered her eyes. "Um, yeah, you have that effect on me. But Amy, I don't know," he said, very uncomfortable. "A male feeling sexual attraction to a woman is the first step to rape," he said feebly, but he wasn't so sure any more. "Isn't it?" "No, not very often. So please," she said. "Please, for me, could you stand up, come over her, pull down your sweatpants and let me look at your nice stiff penis?" Bill gulped. It felt very dangerous. But his handler Amy was asking. Pretty Amy, and he couldn't resist. He slowly rose and walked to the bars, then pulled his sweatpants midway down his thighs. And there was his penis, sticking straight out, right at Amy. But she didn't look disgusted. She looked fascinated, adoring even! "Come right up and stick it through the bars," she said. When he had done that she reached out her hand and touched it. A woman was touching his penis when it was in its disgusting, violent mode! But if what Amy said was true... "It's so soft," she said. "But hard too." Her light touch was terribly exciting. "I bet a vagina feels kind of like this," she said, forming a tube with one hand and putting her other hand at the end of the first to make a longer tube. "Now you push in, like it was a vagina. In and out... That's it. You like that?" Bill nodded enthusiastically. "That's what a man wants to do, not to make a woman feel bad but because it feels great to him. And the woman wants him to do it because it feels great to her." Amy's story was amazing -- could he dare to dream it was true? In any case, it felt fantastic pressing into the tunnel formed by her hands. So fantastic. He stopped and pulled back. "Um, I'm going to provide a sample if I keep doing that." "That's OK," she said with animation. "I want you to." "But your hands will get all gross and sticky." "It's OK, I want it. I want to feel it. I can wash my hands, you know." Bill shoved his penis into the tunnel of Amy's hands and pressed. As he pressed harder, Amy's hands adjusted to resist. Just as if he was pressing into her body. "That's great. I love that," she said. "Just go ahead; let it happen!" Both of them had been looking intently at where his penis stuck through the bars and into Amy's hands, and then she looked up at him, and he looked at her. There was something in her expression, something amazing and wonderful. With a final flurry of thrusts, his penis started spasming and spewing sperm all over Amy's hands. She raised her eyebrows in surprise at the first surge, but then smiled and said, "Yes, that's it! Great!" as he kept spurting, getting her hands messy and spreading it all around with his thrusting. He pulled back, panting, suddenly mortified. What had he done? It was his rapist nature, losing his judgment and penetrating Amy's hands, getting them messy. It was his duty never to let something like that happen. He pulled his sweats up again and sat back on the bed, burying his face in his hands. "That was great, Bill. Just what I wanted. I'm going to try tasting some." Bill looked up in time to see a tongue dip into one of the whitish clots on her right hand. She made a face. "Not too bad." "I shouldn't have done that... I'm so sorry," he said. "No, it was great. I'm so glad you did!" She went around the corner and he heard the water running in the sink. With no one watching, Bill smiled. Despite his terrific guilt, it had been a fantastic experience. When Amy reappeared, she said, "Would you come over here again? Take your sweatshirt off." Bill liked that idea. "Stand real close. Let me touch you." She gently placed her hands on his beard, then moved them out to the sides to run all over his head. "You're so... masculine!" she said, then ran her hands down his chest, around behind his back and to his neck. It was awkward with bars between them, but she managed. She pressed gently on his neck, and he let her move his face forward and down. It was going straight to hers! Her hungry smile was almost overwhelming. Closer and closer she pressed their faces until finally, with their cheeks against the bars, their lips touched. He drew his breath in sharply but did not move back. He had occasionally seen two women kiss, but of course he never had. He'd never had any affectionate touching for as long as he could remember. Amy was moving her lips gently back and forth, touching and then breaking contact, then touching again. It felt great. They both heard the soft footsteps on the stairs at the same time, and broke apart instantly. "So, is that clear then, Bill? You'll do what I said?" Amy ad-libbed in a stern voice. "Yes, ma'am. I'll do my best," said Bill. Amy headed up the stairs. It was just the woman with Bill's dinner tray. He withdrew to the far corner of his cell to put his sweatshirt back on, then dove in to the big bowl of mashed potatoes. Bill kept going over the events of that afternoon in his mind. He couldn't believe it -- this woman with the beautiful face wanted to kiss him, to run her hands all over her body. She liked his body and what his body did. She didn't mind getting his semen on her hands. She offered this story that he wasn't evil, that he might be OK, that in fact even before most men had been OK and meant well. He wasn't convinced, but it was so nice to believe, and to at least pretend it was true so he could enjoy kissing Amy. Half the time he thought about it his penis was very stiff. A part of him was aware that this could be very dangerous. If Amy decided Dworkinism was all true after all and revealed what he'd done, she'd say his evil tendencies had led her astray and he could be killed. But his desire was stronger. He just craved Amy and thought of her every perfection. --------------------------------------------------------- Bill woke in the night to the sound of someone at the outside door, followed by hesitant footsteps on the stairs as all remained dark. "Bill?" a voice whispered, coming closer. Amy appeared outside his cell, dimly visible in the little light that came through the windows at night. "Yes, right here," he said, joining her at the bars. He had an impulse to reach out and pull her to him, but stopped. Was that the beginning of a violent impulse? In any case it wasn't his place. But Amy didn't hesitate, and reached both hands through the bars. He took one in each of his. "Do you mind, my coming like this? Did I wake you up?" "No, I'm really happy to see you!" "Phew," she said. "Do you... Do you feel like touching me?" she asked tentatively. "Oh God, yes!" he said. "Though only if it's what you'd like, of course," he continued in a more moderate tone. Amy pressed close against the bars. "Touch me, then. Touch me everywhere!" Amy was dressed much as she had been before, so there wasn't much exposed flesh, but Bill explored the uncovered and covered with equal wonder and relish. He eagerly reached out to gently touch her cheeks, forehead, ears, hair... Arms, back. She offered her lips and they kissed a few times, but mostly he concentrated on the feel of Amy's body, and her little sighs as she appreciated the touch. He saved her chest for last, and approached tentatively. He'd been taught that men had made sex objects out of organs made for feeding babies. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Oh, yes!" she said. He caressed the mounds of her breasts, wondrous and perfect. Suddenly she stepped back and lifted her shirt up to armpit level, and there were her breasts, the first he's seen in his life. She pressed forward against the bars, one breast protruding into his cell until her chest was firmly against the bars. "Shit, I've got to remember to turn the heat up in here! But can you use your mouth? Lick, suck? Please!" Bill bent over to reach Amy's breast. He licked very gently. "Harder!" she said. "OK, but I've never even seen a breast before." "Oh, right... put the nipple in your mouth and suck hard." It felt great. Amy moaned, and he was aware of just how hard his erection was down below. She pulled back to stick the other breast through. Bill got down on his knees and sucked on it eagerly. He tentatively brought his hands around and fondled Amy's butt through her pants, always alert for some indication he should stop. But there was none. In a moment he would never forget, she grabbed his right hand and put it on her inner right thigh just above the knee, and then quickly and almost violently brought it upward until it hit her right in the crotch, and then she molded it to lay flat against her female parts. She demonstrated a rhythmic motion, and when she removed her hand he kept it up. As her moans increased her nipple fell from his mouth. Amy pulled her shirt back down and then lowered her pants and underpants to just above her knees. "Touch it again, just flesh on flesh." With no cloth in the way, his hand was met with more complex textures: warm smooth thighs to the side, then hair, and at the mid-line hints of moist flesh through the hair. He also looked at her face, just a few inches away through the bars. By the dim light from the windows he could see her smooth features; her eyes were closed and her face slack. "Inside!" she whispered. He gradually pressed inward at the centerline, but there was resistance. He didn't dare press too hard. "I bet you've never done this before, huh?" she whispered with a smile. She reached between her legs to do something and then guided his hand in once more. This time his middle finger met a crack with smooth, wet flesh, right at her mid-line, right between her legs. He wondered at this unfamiliar anatomy, so very alluring. "Inside!" she whispered again. The whole slit was smooth and wet, and gentle pressure quickly revealed where her vagina must be. And his finger soon slid within -- and further within, and yet further. He wasn't so sure about the diameter problem, but it sure seemed deep enough to take a penis without it being a stabbing. "Oooo," said Amy. "That's so right... But I want the real thing!" Bill's heart pounded. She wanted it? Like having him do violence to her? To get raped? Right now? "Let me see you and feel you!" she said. He hastily removed his sweatshirt and sweatpants. She reached through the bars to quickly brush her hand down his chest. "Your cock sure looks ready! Are you ready?" "Yeah, um, I guess, if you're sure." "Oh, I'm sure all right. I might get pregnant. Hmmm. That wouldn't be so terrible; it's about time. And you'd be the father, one way or the other! Now, how do we do this?" She pressed her pelvis against the bars. Bill tried squatting down to get his penis at the right level. She helped with that by getting on her tippy toes. He pressed his penis through the bars into the space between her legs. Bill guided his penis between her lips. He was especially excited to feel the hot wetness against the top of his penis tip. He started moving back and forth, probing gently. She tried tilting her pelvis, leaning her torso back and holding herself up by gripping the bars. Still his probings didn't go anywhere. "No, it's not going to work," she said. "There's one other way." And to his great surprise, she got down on hands and knees and turned to point her rear end towards him and then press it back against the bars. She wiggled her feet under the bars at the bottom. "Really?" he said. "Why not?" she said. "Just be sure you get the right hole!" She laughed. Down on his own hands and knees, Bill got oriented to her anatomy with one hand and aimed his penis with the other. He pressed, and her girl parts pressed inward, promising an opening, but not one he could find right away. After he'd fumbled around for the better part of a minute, Amy said, "Just press harder." He did, but not much happened. "Even harder." "Really?" "Yeah, go for it." Bill pressed harder, and harder still at her moist hairy spot, probing insistently. There was no bone in the way, only soft flesh. Slowly he felt the tissues opening. The hair he was pressing against became wetter hair, and then the hair parted and he was in nothing but hot wetness. Amy sucked in her breath. "Should I stop?" he asked anxiously. "No! Go for it! Shove it in!" He didn't need much encouragement. He reached through the bars, grabbed her hips, and shoved his pelvis back and forth, working his penis in a little more each time. He could get no farther when his pubic bone hit the bars, while the same bars blocked him from pulling Amy's butt any more tightly towards him. But it was enough. He began moving in and out, Amy gasping and moaning. Suddenly memories of stroking his penis with his hand seemed obsolete. This was the way it was supposed to be -- his penis buried in a woman's body -- a very particular part of her body, right up between her legs. His excitement built rapidly. "Can I, um, provide a sample?" he asked breathlessly. "Oh, God yes!" said Amy. He picked up his pace, thrusting in and out of the hot tunnel, gripping this woman's hips. The pleasure built and then crashed, his cock twitching as he pumped in and out frantically. Before too many seconds, he was satisfied and realized how uncomfortable his position was. He gradually let go and his deflating penis slid out. He sat on the floor. Amy turned around and after a moment's thought she sat and leaned her right side against the bars, and he leaned his left against her right. So they sat, side by side, shoulders touching. Her arm stuck through the bars and circled his waist. His hand reached through and rested on her right thigh. "Was... Was that what you wanted? What you expected?" "Definitely what I wanted. God, those Dworks sold us a bill of goods on sex! As for what I expected, not quite. It's bigger around than I thought. It hurt a bit -- but it's definitely what I wanted. And now your sperm is swimming around up there. And it might start a baby not because we decided to start a baby, but because I wanted to get fucked, and you wanted to fuck me, and we did, and sometimes that's what happens after a good fucking!" Her talk brought back Bill's old fears. "But... this 'fucking', was it violent? I didn't feel like I wanted to hurt you, and I did, at least a little." "Oh, forget all that stuff, Bill. I wanted it so bad, and the hurt was just a little detail." Suddenly Bill had an idea. "I just realized... You do have a key to my cell, right?" Amy laughed too. "Yeah, I guess I do." But she made no move to get up. He imagined her letting herself in so they could hug properly, lying down on his cot. He didn't say anything. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it, either. It was one thing to have sex, but if the door was open, would he suddenly be seized by an irresistible urge to flee, to rape and dominate other women? After a while, Amy looked at her left wrist intently and said, "Oh, gosh, it's 2:30. I've got to be getting to sleep." They both rose. She put her face to the bars, he followed her lead, and they shared a brief kiss. Soon she was up and fully dressed. "Good night!" "Good night," he said. He had many questions, and more kept coming as he lay in bed reliving the experience. ============================================================ Chapter 4 Bill tossed and turned. He ought to just go to sleep. Amy might come and she might not; she would know best. It was notably warmer; apparently Amy had turned up the heat. Just as he was drifting off he heard footsteps outside, and his heart leapt when the upstairs door opened. "I brought a candle this time." She lit it and set it on the floor several feet away. They met at the bars and kissed for some minutes, hands pressed through the bars to caress each other. She pulled back and undid the button of her pants and her hand went to the zipper, but then she stopped. Bill had his hands on his sweatpants, but he stopped too. Amy smiled briefly before assuming an official tone. "I've come for a surprise inspection. Strip!" Bill stripped. His penis was mostly hard. "Could you provide a sample? It seems your body has gone partway down that path." "Um, I think so," Bill said, hoping he wouldn't be providing a sample in the old, officially sanctioned way. "I have a different sort of container in mind," she said, and Bill smiled openly. "I was thinking about the physics of this." She went across the hall and came back with an old cushion that she put on the floor right at the edge of his cell. She lay down on her back and pushed her butt firmly against the bars, legs up straight in the air, forming a V. "I like that kind of container!" said Bill, approaching the floor himself. There was her vaginal opening, but it was right behind a bar. "Move to the side a little," he said. "Oh," she said with a smile, seeing the problem and correcting it. But however Bill tried, he couldn't get his legs out of the way with his cock sticking through the bars down low like that. "If you were higher up," he said. "Hmmmm," said Amy, rising. "Maybe if there was a table or something..." She looked around but there was nothing in sight. "I suppose you could get the key and let yourself in..." Bill said. "If you trusted me." Amy gave no indication she'd heard, but she reached up high on the bars and pulled herself up, swinging her legs up to to the right, and then working her left leg under her hands. She giggled. Bill really wanted to fuck her now, and he saw his chance. He reached through the bars and grabbed Amy's rear end and pulled it towards him firmly, mushing her vaginal opening right up to the bars. He pulled one hand in long enough to aim his cock, and then gave a tremendous shove. "Bill!" said Amy. "Ow!" He shoved in and out with fast, urgent strokes. "Bill! I'm going to lose my grip and fall!" Bill needed it so bad. He took a bit more of her weight with his hands and pounded in even harder. His pleasure built, and then he was spurting. "Your fingers!" cried Amy. He realized he had dug his fingernails into Amy's butt and relaxed his fingers at once as he slid his penis out, then gently eased her pelvis down until she was on her feet again. He was panting hard from the dual exertion of thrusting and holding her butt. "Was that OK?" he said. "Yeah," said Amy, but with ambivalence. Bill thought about what had happened. He'd grabbed her without permission and stuck it in and hadn't stopped when she asked him to. This was his male violence coming through. "I... I was kind of violent, I guess. I'm sorry!" "Yeah, you were." But then she smiled and said, "But it was OK." "But then I just got lucky that you didn't mind, right? God, we men are rapists, just like they always said!" "Well, it wasn't rape, really. I wanted it, just not plastered nearly upside down against the bars." "God, I'm so sorry." "It was fine, as it turned out. Quite a memory! But I think I'd rather do it from the rear on the floor from now on. That's awfully nice." "Of course! Whatever works for you." As he lay in bed reliving the event, he relished her implication that she wanted to do this again, maybe as a regular thing. --------------------------------------------------------- During the next day, Amy appeared and announced in a very business-like way, "We'll be needing a sample from you tomorrow after breakfast, so be sure not to waste any semen between now and then." "Of course -- I mean I will do as you ask. It would be a sin for me to stimulate myself except when a sample is needed." They looked at each other with slight smirks, then Amy vanished. She had given him an explanation for why she wouldn't be coming to him that night. When she showed up the next morning a woman was cleaning downstairs, and Amy waited until the building was empty before she approached Bill. "Somebody wants a baby, and you're elected to be the daddy," Amy said with a smile, handing him the cup through the bars. "I'm going to watch to make sure you do it right," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and frowning. Bill pulled his sweats down partway, but after a brief hesitation removed them completely. He started stroking his organ, but it didn't instantly become hard. He glanced at the crotch of Amy's pants. "I saw that!" she said with mock sternness. "You're having violent thoughts left over from the patriarchy. Or, I guess it's your brutal male nature." Bill gave a wan smile, then whispered, "It's harder this way when I know how it's really supposed to be done." Amy smiled and made a show of slowly undoing the button on her pants, slowly lowering the zipper, and pulling her pants down to her knees. Bill saw the shape of her female parts under her panties, and his cock hardened rapidly. "Them too!" Bill whispered. Amy smiled and shook her finger at him, then slowly pulled the panties down. As she spread her lips to reveal the dark hairless flesh just inside her vaginal opening, she whispered, "You'd rather put it in here?" Bill nodded greedily, stroking harder. "You naughty man!" Amy said softly. She pulled her panties and pants up and knelt on the floor in front of him. "Turn sideways." She then brought her face in close until it was a few inches away. "You want me to hold the cup?" Bill nodded and she reached through the bars to take it from him. With her other hand she reached beneath Bill's rapidly moving hand to gently caress his balls, then spoke to them. "One of you guys is going to be a daddy; just let us have what you make." She saw them rise in their sac to sit firmly against his body as Bill moaned, and her eyes shifted to his tip just in time to study from up close the spurts flying out of his penis. A little one, two big ones, and two more little ones. The second hit the inside of the cup with enough force to make a surprisingly loud splatting sound. Bill's jacking motion subsided and he leaned against the bars, breathing hard. "Very good. You've done your job well," said Amy, who tousled Bill's hair with her free hand before capping the sample. In a lower voice, she continued, "Wouldn't it be something if she had the courage to come in here herself, stick her ass up against the bars, and get fucked the way nature intended?" Bill nodded in dreamy agreement. Amy appeared again shortly after supper when the building was otherwise empty for the night. "She wants a booster shot." She then looked at Bill slyly. "Have you ever heard of coitus interruptus?" He shook his head. "It's where sexual intercourse begins, but the man pulls out just before the semen spurts out. It was sometimes used as a means of contraception -- a way to have sex without making a baby. You want to try?" Bill understood at once and nodded eagerly. "But this time pulling out is what makes a baby, not what prevents it." Amy smiled, retrieved the cushion from the other room, pulled off her shirt, pulled her pants down to her knees, and presented herself for the taking. As Bill maneuvered into position, Amy reached back to hand him the cup. "Wait a sec til I get warmed up," she said, and began pressing her fingers rhythmically between her legs. Bill reached his right hand through the bars, placed it against Amy's stomach, and slowly slid up to her chest and fondled her right breast. "That's nice, Bill," she said, and after a minute, "OK, I'm ready to get fucked!", wiggling her butt back and forth. Bill withdrew his arm, aimed his cock, and pressed in. The previous time they'd done it this way it had been close to totally dark, but Amy had left the lights on this time. He found it really exciting to watch his penis tip spread Amy's vaginal lips, then watch it disappear, followed by inch after inch of his shaft. He held the cup with his right hand but also rested it on Amy's hip while his left gripped the other one. He loved the sight of his penis shoving in and out of Amy's vagina, her lips flipping in and out to follow his motion. Her fingers were busy just to the stomach side of where his penis went in and out -- a lighter, faster rhythm. Soon she tensed and said, "Yes!" followed by rapid gasps. At the same time her vagina tightened on his penis, heightening his pleasure. "Don't forget to pull out," she panted. He might have forgotten. He picked up his pace, wanting so much to plunge deep to deliver his load, but he timed it just right and pulled out. His entire cock appeared, glistening, and after a delicious moment of delay, semen rocketed out the tip. Two spurts later he was done. "Bill!" said Amy with a brief giggle. "That hit me on the neck! Quick, get it into the cup!" "Oh, yeah," he said, reaching up to finger his stuff quickly from Amy's neck and the small of her back to the plastic cup. After they were both dressed, Amy disappeared with the cup after a quick, "Thanks!" Amy never offered to kiss Bill after the first few days. Soon she came for sex a couple times a week, then a few times a month. She explained that she really didn't feel ready for a baby right then, so she avoided the middle of her cycle. Bill still had fantasies of her coming into his cell so they could hug properly and have sex face to face. But she must have her reasons for not wanting that. He realized he did have the seeds of violence within him, so maybe it was for the best. --------------------------------------------------------- Amy hadn't stopped in for a couple days. "Hey, Bill, how's it going?" "I can't complain. How are you?" "Fine, fine. Say, your dream may finally come true." Was she going to come into his cell? "There's a woman who wants to get pregnant. Tried with Carl's stuff for a year, then these past few months with you. I mentioned some of those old theories about how doing it the old-fashioned way might help get pregnant, and she's up for it. Strictly secret, though. Are you up for it?" "Uh, sure!" "You're impossible! You've got a bulge in your pants already!" "Well, I'm the only one for miles around who can get that bulge, and if I didn't you guys would never have any babies." Amy studied him for a moment. "You're getting kind of uppity." She smiled as she said it, meaning it was a joke. But it didn't feel entirely like a joke. "This one will be totally in the dark, OK? We'll even put a blindfold on you. She's got a wider body than me, but I hope that won't be a problem." "Uh, no..." he said, not quite sure how wide was wide. "You'd better not have a problem, or you're a shallow chauvinist pig." Amy smiled, so it seemed she was joking -- mostly. On the appointed evening, Amy appeared in order to put his blindfold in place. At her request he'd made sure not to bathe for several days, and he refrained from providing any samples for three days beforehand. Since Amy had opened his mind to the possibilities, he hadn't generally stopped himself from spewing his load when he felt like it instead of only when needed. Usually he fantasized about Amy's butt, pressed against the bars and ready. Naked and blindfolded, he waited. He heard two distinct sets of footsteps coming down, one heavier than the other. He heard rustling and then Amy's soft voice. "She's right in front of you. I'll leave you two alone. Do your duty, now Bill." He grunted. Amy had said grunting and growling might help too. He approached the bars and felt for his target. The proffered butt was much wider than Amy's, and flabbier. But he reached between her legs and found the same soft but hairy flesh as on Amy. And when he opened the lips gently, there was her hole, just where it ought to be. He felt it with his fingers, stuck his tip right in the slot, aimed and pressed. He learned for the first time that vaginas are different. The vagina in this ass was not quite so tight. It didn't matter to Bill. All he had to do was thrust enough to dump his load up in there, and he could be a daddy. He dug his fingers into the fleshy ass and fucked the fertile hole, fast and deep, grunting loudly. "Fuck my cunt, you big stud," said the voice from well beyond the fat ass. The first time was tentative, but then she got into it, "Fuck my cunt, you big fucking stud!" Suddenly the woman's vagina squeezed him hard. Bill growled in response, then grunted louder and louder and seconds later shot his load. This time he held himself in deep as soon as he started spurting, intent on keeping the sperm as far up inside her as he could. But he gently withdrew as soon as the last dribble of cum had oozed out. "Thanks, bub," said the voice. "Stick your armpit over here, let me take a whiff... pew, well, that's what the doctor ordered. Look, maybe I needed that, but don't forget you're still just a sperm factory, and that's all you're good for." "Yes, ma'am," panted Bill, trying not to grin. If he could fuck women from the rear to make them pregnant, that felt like a pretty good reason for living all by itself. She came again the next night, and they repeated the procedure. Amy reported a month later that his seed had taken. --------------------------------------------------------- The word spread. The next one after fat-ass was kind of plump and plain. It didn't matter to Bill. Her vagina was still very welcoming and he was delighted to try to impregnate her the old-fashioned way. The next one was younger and thinner. She looked at him curiously as she stripped. "Show me your penis." It was already pretty hard when he took his sweats off, and she looked at it with distaste. "Sure is gross." But she sat on the cushion, legs spread wide and feet together as she reached between her legs and fluttered her fingers on her girl part. Brief glances at the woman's display was enough to make his cock very hard. "OK, ready to get raped," she sighed, turning around and presenting her butt. The skin of her butt was warm to the touch, smooth and tight. Her lips didn't spread very easily, and his cock tip barely had a purchase when he pressed. The normal pressure he exerted wasn't enough, so he pressed harder. "Yikes," she said, and he stopped at once. She turned her head over her shoulder. "I didn't say stop, butt head." That made him a bit angry, so he grabbed her hips and shoved hard and fast. "Ouch! Shit! Fuck!" He hesitated to see if she'd try to pull away, but she didn't. He fucked in and out, pressing inward deeper each time, feeling her hot liquid easing his passage. She was tighter than any of the others, and hotter. In and out he thrust, enjoying this young pussy. He could spurt any time but wanted to make the moment last. Moments turned into minutes. "And it feels good to get raped. Imagine that. Oppression built right into us..." "You want the sperm?" he asked. "Yeah. Be kind of rough. They say it helps a girl get pregnant." Bill needed no further encouragement. His eyes took on a lusty grin as he grappled her hips, dug his fingers in a little, and drove in and out like crazy with his impregnator. Animal pleasure pulsed through his brain as the reflex took over, and he pulsed his seed into her tight, hot channel. When the delivery was complete, he pulled back and let his injector slide out. "Thanks, fucker," she said, turning and looking at him, but then smiled. "I guess that's what you are, isn't it, a big fucker." He shrugged and looked down. The next woman told him she'd like him to concentrate hard on his X sperm so he could knock her up with a daughter. She'd been pregnant three times, but each time after a couple months they had told her that her baby had a genetic defect and she needed an abortion. While it was possible that it was some genuine defect, everyone understood that the vast majority of the time that was a euphemism for saying she was pregnant with a boy. --------------------------------------------------------- Bill heard footsteps one night when no one was expected. Bill hoped it was Amy, but it was a woman he'd never seen before. "Here to get fucked," she said. "I understand that's what you do." "I try to be of service," he said, trying not to smile. "But usually people ask in advance, to make sure I've got enough sperm to do the job." "I'm not here to get pregnant," she said. "But I want to know what it's like." Bill saw no reason to ask questions. She just pulled her pants and panties down to her knees. Bill was getting good at finding the pussy hole without fumbling around or stretching the girl too much. He even knew how much she'd have to arch her back so he'd have a straight shot to get into her depths. But this girl wasn't even wet. "Um, would you care to stimulate yourself to get excited?" "Oh, yeah. Why don't you do it?" "OK, I'll try, but tell me how it is for you." He tried to imitate with his fingers what he'd seen women do. "That's fine... Yeah, very good... I guess you're not just a rapist, are you... OK, I think I'm ready." Judging by her wetness, she was right, and his tip led the way as usual as his shaft forced it deep into the welcoming cunt. "Would you like me to wait?" he asked. "Nah, just do your thing." He happily switched to fast and deep thrusting, and in under a minute he shot his wad. After he withdrew, she pulled her pants up and sat on the mat instead of leaving like most of them did. "Amy and I were lovers for a while, until she dumped me. But she told me what you guys did. I figured I'd see what it was like to get raped up the cunt by a disgusting prick wielded by a disgusting prick." By now Bill didn't mind so much. He was getting more comfortable with who he was. "So, was it like you thought?" "No. Well, the basics -- sure. It is rough but not bad at the same time -- that surprised me. Our bodies are meant to take it. Dworkinism lies again." She paused. "We're meant to get fucked." Bill shrugged but couldn't help smiling. She shook her head. "And you don't want to hurt us, I can see. You just want to feel good." "Pretty much," he said. "Though I'll do what I can to make it good for you." "Can you do it again?" "Umm, it takes a while before my penis can get stiff again, but let's see... You want to get it again? Up deep inside?" "Yeah," she said, smiling. Before her eyes his organ responded, and when it was ready to do the job, she turned around and presented. He mounted, thrust into her pre-stretched pussy, and slid in and out with long, easy strokes. "I can see a girl could get used to this," she said, and he noticed her fingers rising to finger herself. "Man, it's like stereo," she said after a while. "Oooo, oooooo, mmmmmm, mmmmm, Aaahhhhh!" As usual, her climax sent him to rapidly seek his own, and moments later he convulsed again. It felt as great as ever, even if he didn't have much juice to give. ============================================================ Chapter 5 In some respects, Bill was a one-exhibit zoo. Teachers brought classes of girls of all different ages. Most had him pull down his pants to display his male anatomy and had the girls file by to see it up close. But unlike that first teacher, none of the others had him achieve an erection, much less give a sample. None gave a lengthy talk about what a disgusting and barely tolerated specimen of humanity he was. Adult women came by in groups for a brief look. He glanced at the faces of everyone who came, and saw a wide range of reactions. Some never made eye contact at all. Others looked at him with contempt. Others just seemed curious, wondering what this strange gender of humanity was. Some of the younger girls smiled openly at him, and he dared to smile back. Older girls rarely did that, and he soon found out why, as the others ridiculed a girl who had been caught smiling at him. After a certain age, when the girls showed signs of physical development, he saw another sort of reaction, a kind of embarrassment. Thinking about what Amy had told him, he wondered if it was the beginnings of those romantic feelings women had for men. A group of five adolescent girls came down some afternoons when no one else was there and taunted him with rude remarks. He just looked down and gave the Dworkinian party line answers to any questions he was asked. One asked if he'd pull his pants down for them. Bill said he ought to check with Amy first, and they hastily withdrew the request. He and they both knew that the elders would frown on any such curiosity without an official purpose. --------------------------------------------------------- Bill had come to Shady Pines in the fall. It was the height of summer the next year when a woman visited by herself one afternoon. He immediately recognized her as one who had just a few days before given him a long look of open curiosity, perhaps even friendliness. She was also quite memorable for her lustrous brown hair, clear blue eyes, and lovely round face. "Hi. I'm Alison," she said. "Pleased to meet you," he replied. "I'm Bill." She seemed oddly ill at ease. "What's your life like?" "Oh. I eat. I sleep. I provide semen samples. I read a bit," he said, pointing to a couple magazines. Screwing women through the bars wasn't something to mention. "That seems pretty bleak." He shrugged. "I lived with my moms until a few months ago. My younger sister still lives there. A lot of women are partnered by the time they're 22, but some are like me and just share a house with other unattached women. In our case it's an apartment. I mostly work in the furniture factories, but in summer I love to work out in the vegetable gardens." It seemed to Bill like a kind of artificial flurry of words, but he was intrigued. "At night I mostly read or watch videos -- card games too sometimes. My best friends were Kate and Sally, but they both got partnered so I don't see them so much any more. Kate has a toddler... But you're probably bored by all that." "Not at all! I don't know much of anything about Shady Pines. Are there separate neighborhoods for houses and others for dining halls and stuff?" "Oh, sure... I should bring you a map some time. There are two major groups of houses and apartments..." She described more detail of her life, and it didn't sound artificial any more. Bill found he had lots of questions, and Alison seemed happy to answer them all. After a while she looked at her watch. "I have to go now, but would you mind if I came back some time to chat?" "No, that would be great! I mean, sure I'd be willing to if it's what you would like." She was both beautiful and genuine, somehow, and he truly enjoyed her company. "It might be in the evening, when no one else is around." "Sure." "And you'd have to keep the visits a secret." "Certainly," said Bill and smiled. "But I sometimes get visitors in the evening." "Oh! Do you know which nights they're coming?" "Usually, but not always." Alison looked troubled. "Is there any time when you're sure no one else would come?" "No one's ever been here really late, and they never come in the morning before it's light out." "But you're asleep then, right?" "I have plenty of time to sleep; I can sleep all day if I want. I'd be happy to talk any time." "Oh, OK," she said, brightening. "Bye." --------------------------------------------------------- Bill woke in the middle of the night to the sound of soft steps in the hallway. "Hi." "Hello. What time is it?" "Two-thirty." "Right." He stifled a yawn. "Do you mind I came?" "No, it's fine. Really." They stood awkwardly on opposite sides of the bars. He could barely make her out in the dim light. Alison sat, leaning against the wall opposite the cell. Bill sat just inside the bars. "So what do you eat?" "They bring me a bowl for each meal. Usually oatmeal for breakfast. Potatoes or some sort of stew for lunch and dinner." "Just oatmeal? Just potatoes?" "There's usually cheese and some raisins in the oatmeal." "No fruit? No salad? No dessert?" Bill had occasionally seen these things when women or girls were eating when they visited him. Not salad, though. He remembered his place. "I'm thankful to be fed." "Do you want to know about our meals?" He hesitated. "OK." "You don't sound so sure." "I try to be thankful for what I have. I mean, I am thankful. But I was thinking about all the stuff you told me before. It's really interesting, but it's also kind of hard to hear about things out there I'll never do and things I'll never have." "It's not fair," said Alison. "No one deserves to be treated like they treat you." "It's not like I'm a woman, right? I have my place. And I shouldn't be envious." Bill realized he really did want to hear anything this woman wanted to say. "It's OK, go ahead, I'd like to hear about the food." She described all the different kinds of things they ate, especially now in the summer when the vegetable garden was producing its bounty. The subject seemed to reach a natural end, and there was a pause. "What do you do?" "I eat, sleep, take sponge baths from time to time, and provide semen samples." After a pause, he continued, "I read books and magazines sometimes. Science books, and books and magazines about Dworkinism and the news." "That's what you said before. No music?" "No." "No games?" "No." "Why do they have to make your life so miserable?" "You know the answer, right? My only purpose is to provide semen. We men are inferior in our violent impulses and we have a long history of oppressing women, so it's just that we suffer for the sins of our forefathers." "Do you believe that? That you're inferior?" He hesitated. "Yes..." Amy had questioned this too, and he was beginning to wonder. "And why should you suffer for what men did earlier? You didn't do it yourself." "I... I'm not sure, but Dworkinism is quite clear on the point." She sighed. "Yeah, I guess it is. But don't you ever dream of being free? Able to do whatever you want?" "Freedom is not a good idea for a male. We have violent and aggressive natures, and you never know when a man will turn violent. So it is best for everyone if we remain locked up." "Do you feel like you have a violent and aggressive nature?" "No, I'm not aware of that. But I'm sure it's lurking within me, and it might emerge at any time." After a pause, she said, "I don't believe that. I don't believe you're worthless. I don't believe you're violent." Bill felt a bit of warmth stir in his chest. Alison seemed agitated, and she rose and shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "Look, I've got to go, OK?" "Um, sure." Lying in bed, Bill tried to sort out his feelings. He was fascinated by Alison. She was attractive, sure, but there was more. She treated him almost like a woman. She hadn't expressed the slightest interest in what made him unique -- his male apparatus. He reminded himself that he should expect nothing, that this was just a passing curiosity on Alison's part and when it passed things would go back to the way they were before. --------------------------------------------------------- Alison didn't come the next night, but she came the night after, again at 2:30. She lit a thick candle and placed it on the floor, then showed him the contents of a cloth bag. "See?" "Tomatoes?" "Yeah, I brought you some. Just picked today -- or yesterday, I guess it is." "I've never had them fresh like this. Are you sure it's OK?" "What do you mean?" "Like, are they stolen?" "No, silly. No one inventories the tomatoes on the vines... But you wouldn't know that, would you..." "Maybe I should have known... Anyway, thank you!" He bit into one, and juice ran down his cheek. After his second bite, he said, "That tastes fantastic!" "Glad you liked it. And you've never had a tomato before?" "Only in stews." Bill demolished the first tomato and started on the second. Alison made some idle chatter about her day while Bill ate. "I brought some cards. You want to learn a game?" "Ummm... Sure!" "Wipe your hands off first. We don't want to get the cards sticky." Bill got up to fetch the grubby towel provided for his use. "OK, let's start with rummy." The two sat cross-legged on their respect sides of the bars. Bill listened attentively as she explained the rules. Amy had to teach him how to shuffle. At first she giggled at his clumsiness, but then sobered up and said she realized he'd never had any chance to play with cards before. It was pretty interesting. After several hands, Amy said, "How about Slapjack?" "Slapjack?" "I had so much fun with it when I was a little girl. We each take half the cards. We take turns turning one over. If it's a jack, then whoever says 'Slapjack' quickest and slaps it wins the pile." "But where's the pile?" It was apparent that she'd have the advantage if the pile was outside the cell and he would if it was inside. "We'll put it inside with you. Since I'm experienced and you're an inferior sort of person." He saw her wry smile. At first she slapped most of the jacks, but he got the hang of it quickly, and before long his advantage began to tell. So after a while they put the pile outside the bars. Each won a few rounds and then Bill started winning consistently, even where she had the home court advantage. "Hey, you're an inferior kind of person! Why don't you act like it!" Bill grinned. He'd never had so much fun in his life. In a close play, the loser's hand slaps down right on top of the winner's. After a streak of Bill's wins, Alison growled in genuine exasperation. She pressed down firmly to trap his hand and didn't let up. Bill enjoyed the touch, so he sat and waited. The seconds dragged on. Then she slowly lifted his hand and held it in both of hers and brought it up close to her face. "It's big," she said softly. "No woman's hand looks like this." She raised it to her mouth and kissed each finger in turn. When she'd kissed the pinky she looked up at Bill but lowered her eyes right away. After a moment's pause she rose to her knees, right next to the bars. Bill rose to his knees too, so their faces were inches apart. Bill was delighted. They kissed through the bars, very gently. Then they kissed again, and yet again. Bill was aware of a swelling in his pants, but he didn't draw attention to it. He wanted to see what Alison was interested in. If she felt like stripping and presenting her rear end, he'd be happy to have sex, but this felt different. Alison was different from Amy somehow. Amy was interested in him as a man, but Alison seemed to see him as a person. Like a woman who happened to be male. He followed her lead in getting to his feet and standing to the side, away from the playing cards. Alison reached through the bars to try to hug him, and Bill followed suit, but Alison sighed. "That's hardly a hug, is it..." Bill had never had a hug in his memory, but he'd seen girls and women do it, and he had occasionally let himself think it would be nice. "Do you like me?" Bill nodded. "Do you feel violent or angry?" Bill shook his head, surprised. "Not at all." "You promise to be good?" Bill look perplexed, but nodded. Alison reached into her pocket and removed a key. "Even if I come in there? Bill's heart leapt, and he nodded vigorously. "Where did you get that?" "There's a drawer upstairs with spares... So if you start feeling violent, you'll let me know so I can leave in time?" "Sure," he said. He really did feel sure about it. She unlocked the door, stepped into his cell, and closed it behind her. "Be gentle, OK?" she said as he approached, a trace of fear in her eyes. "Of course," he said softly. Their bodies folded together and Bill felt the soft warmth. She rested her head on his shoulder. Bill gave a sigh of contentment. So this was a real hug. They were both fully clothed, but this felt closer to a woman than he'd ever been. He smelled her hair, then ran one arm up and down her back while the other fondled her butt. He certainly wanted her. She looked up. "So you like me? You find me sexy?" "God, yes!" "A man. Hugging a man," she said, half to herself. "Kiss me again." The kiss without intervening bars was much freer. "Mmmm. A beard." She pulled back. "Can we lie down?" Eying the cot, she said, "It is meant for one, isn't it... But it will do." Following her direction, Bill lay on his side, back against the wall, and Alison lay in front of him, in spoon position, just barely fitting. Bill's eyes started filling with tears. It had felt like a gift from heaven that he'd gotten to actually penetrate Amy rather than just ejaculating into little cups, but that was nothing compared to this -- a real woman in his arms, warm and soft. He had a hard-on, of course, and he'd be happy to fuck. But just to feel her friendly warmth, that was heaven. Or just possibly, there was this way of combining sex and this tenderness that women did, this thing called 'making love'! Maybe a man and woman could do that too... He sniffled. "What's wrong?" she asked. "I'm just happy," he said. "And I feel kind of guilty because I'm not supposed to be happy." "Oh, you poor man," she said, emphasizing the last word a little. "I've never gotten to hug anyone before," he said. "Oh, my God," said Alison. "I never thought of that! That is so sad! Not even your handler, when you were younger?" "Not that I can remember." She wriggled to turn over and face him, an operation requiring care as the cot was so narrow.. They kissed passionately. "And this thing I feel down here... That must be your penis. And the way people used to do it... men and women... the man stuck it inside. And hurt the woman like hell, but... part of me really wants it. I mean, mostly I just want you, to kiss and everything." She kissed him again and broke into a radiant smile. "But part of me is sick and unenlightened and likes the idea of that sticking into me... Are you having trouble controlling yourself? To keep from raping me?" "No, I'm not -- though I'll admit, I'd really love to do it. But, you know what?" "What?" "There may be a few things I know that you don't. I've got a few secrets." "Oh?" "Remember I told you sometimes women visit me in the evenings?" "Yeah." "They come to get penetrated the old-fashioned way." "They do! In here?" Alison's eyes were wide with interest. "No... They stick their butts against the bars and I stick my penis through and into them. That way nothing too terrible happens if I get violent. At least that's the way they see it." "Do they scream? Do you get really excited knowing they're suffering? That's always been the weirdest part for me." "No, it's not like that. Amy had some inside information that turns out to be right. In the old days, it was really rare for a man to rape a woman. Mostly the women really wanted it, and it felt really great to them, and the man too. And both of them loved making the other feel good." "Really?" "Amy was the first one to try it. And she liked it so much we did it a bunch of times." "Oh. Do you still do it?" Her tone made it obvious she didn't want him doing it with anyone else. "She might come by, though she hasn't in a while. But we won't any more. I'll put her off." "OK." "But, with all of them -- not just Amy -- the women don't hurt. And I'm really glad they don't. Some use their fingers and have orgasms." "While you're raping them?!" "While I'm sliding in and out, yes. It doesn't hurt them. They say it feels really good to have me pumping in and out. And it would be way less awkward without the bars between us." Alison said quietly, "And we could do that... right now?" "Only if you wanted. Of course, you might get pregnant." "Oh, right! Wait, let me do some math... No, it should be fine. And the idea of getting pregnant just naturally? That's kind of exciting too." "You've done it with other women, right? What's it like?" "Sure. We kiss and rub and stuff, and have orgasms. We hug and sleep together at night. But something wasn't right The books and leaders all talk about loving other women. But I never really did. Sex was just something you did, but I never felt that special feeling the way some of the women do for each other. And we're all supposed to. But then when I looked through those bars at you, that first time, something stirred, something that felt kind of like love. So I thought I'd get to know you." Bill smiled. "So I'm the most attractive man you've ever seen?" "I have seen one other. Carl, the guy before you." She shuddered. "What happened to him anyway?" Bill had forgotten that she would have known him. "Oh, you don't know? He killed himself." "What?" "Yeah. It turned out his handler Rachel was just really mean to him. Too mean for even a man. He left a note explaining. It kind of shook people up to think a woman could make a man feel bad enough to kill himself just by saying mean things. Men are supposed to be tough and cruel. That's why she lost the job and Amy took over. I think she's teaching second grade now." Bill made a connection. "Does she have short reddish hair?" "Yes, why?" "She's the one! Wow!" He described the scene when her class had visited, including her making him rub semen in his hair. Amy frowned. "That's so mean of her! And you never did anything to her..." They both grew quiet and looked into each other's eyes. "So..." she said softly. "Will you do it to me -- and be nice?" "Of course," Bill said. "And if you don't like it, we'll stop." "Let's take all our clothes off..." They sat up long enough to strip. "Your penis -- that's so exciting and so scary." "No hurry about that." Bill was thrilled to see a woman's body with no bars in the way. He dove down onto her breast and sucked hungrily, while Alison moaned, stroking his hair. His hand crept up between her bare legs. She spread them to let him at her female parts. He tried with his fingers the motion he'd used with Amy's former lover that she'd enjoyed. After a few minutes of excited moans, Alison said, "I'm ready, I think. I want it. I may be crazy, but I want it. You say it won't hurt?" "Only a little, maybe, but it goes away." "So I lie back like this, and you get on top of me?" "Yeah. I've never done it this way before, so I'm not sure about the details." "Oh, because it doesn't work through the bars this way?" "Right." He decided not to mention the contortion Amy had used to approximate this position. Bill spread his upper thighs across Alison's, lowering his cock into position. Suddenly she froze and covered her crotch with her hands. "You're sure you're not going to hurt me? Your face looks kind of... not loving." Bill realized he did feel something more primal than love. "Oh, I really do want to get it in so much... but not if you don't want." He stroked her cheek tenderly. "I don't want to hurt you, and I'll go real slow, OK?" He kissed her nose and smiled. "Come to think of it, women look kind of like that when they're going for orgasm... OK, I trust you." She held herself open with one hand and guided him with the other. He pressed, and slowly increased the pressure. Her tissues stretched. "OK?" "Yeah, OK. I can't believe it -- I really want it to go inside!" He pressed further, and suddenly her pussy tissue gave way to let his tip through her ring of muscles. "Oh, God!" she said, and reached down to grab Bill's butt cheeks and then pressed their bodies together. Her eyes widened as she forced him into her. "Is it all the way in?" "Not quite," said Bill. "You want it in more?" "If it doesn't hurt... yes!" Bill weaseled himself in an inch or two further. Alison's face showed no hint of pain. He started a slow in and out motion and was encouraged by her dreamy smile. He made his strokes longer and a little faster. "Are you in agony?" he asked playfully. "Oh, God no!" He picked up the pace some more, shifting position slightly from time to time. "Oh! Oh, just like that!" said Alison. "No, the one before that... Yeah, that's right!" Bill paused to think just how fantastic he felt, chest to chest with this beautiful, kind woman, thrusting deep into her body to her immense delight -- and his. "Oh, yes, Bill, oh, yes, oh..." She then went silent but clutched his back and shuddered. He felt a couple faint squeezes on his cock and in himself a fuller pleasure than ever before built rapidly. He gave a few more fast and deep strokes before convulsing, sending his semen spewing into Alison's depths. She had been holding her breath, and suddenly started gulping for air, smiling and kissing him as he eagerly kissed her back, his cock slipping from her hot and soupy tunnel. "I guess I can see a little bit why they call it violent," she said. "But it's the best violence ever!" The two lovers lay intertwined, their breathing slowing. Bill pulled his blanket over them. He soon realized Alison was asleep, and he smiled. She had trusted him enough to come into his cell and share her body with him, but falling asleep seemed to show the most trust of all. He was drowsing himself when he heard a noise outside and not too far away. "Alison," he said softly, and she came awake at once. "I heard a noise." The two of them were still but heard nothing more. "I'd better be going. It wouldn't do to be discovered like this, now, would it?" That needed no reply, and within a couple minutes Alison was dressed and everything put away. They shared one last hug and she locked the door behind her, pocketing the key. Bill felt profoundly satisfied as never before. As he was falling asleep, he had the brief image of having the key to his cell himself. What would that feel like? --------------------------------------------------------- Alison came at 3am the next night, and there was a candle but no tomatoes or cards. She let herself into his cell. They embraced passionately and explored each other's bodies sensually for half an hour before she begged him to plunge into her. Fifteen minutes later they both came, both twitching ecstatically while he pumped seed into her inner place. After ten minutes he was ready to go again. She came twice that time before he did. His vaginal intrusion organ stiffened once more 45 minutes later, and she eagerly invited it to intrude into her vagina. She said she'd had enough orgasms and just studied him intently with a smile as his excitement built, peaked, and subsided. The next night when she came he said, "I'm supposed to provide a sample tomorrow morning, so tonight's not so good. Maybe we should just play cards." They played two hands of rummy half-heartedly in his cell. But then they figured a kiss and a hug shouldn't be a problem, but... would he mind terribly sticking his hand down her pants? And would he mind if she stuck hers into his? Their respective sexy parts engorged and ready, they couldn't resist sliding the one into the other, which was OK just as long as he didn't come. She came, and as she lay in the glow of her orgasm he began reluctantly to pull out, but she wanted him to stay inside. And move a little more. And did he want to come? More than anything. He'd still have some stuff to give in a few hours, right? Yeah, some. What was it to them if some woman didn't get a baby that month? Instinct and desire prevailed, and he made her wet pussy a little wetter. Amy didn't seem to notice that his production the next day was meager, so the two lovers met again that night. But Amy did notice the next day that the contents of the cup could better be described as dribbles than a pool. "Hey, are you sick?" she asked. "Or is somebody sneaking in to get it on the sly?" He was ready for the question. "Ummm, I sometimes waste the precious stuff in self-pollution." Amy smiled but chided him gently. "Remember your job. This is how you earn your keep." "Yes, ma'am," he said. He made sure the woman's third dose was of normal size. --------------------------------------------------------- "There's a woman who wants it the old-fashioned way starting day after tomorrow," Bill said as he and Alison lay in afterglow. "I suppose I could say no." "You actually stick it into her?" Bill nodded. "I don't like the idea. I want you all to myself." "You don't mind me fathering babies with other women." "That's different." "True. But this doggy-style thing is pretty impersonal too." "Can we try it some time? So I can see what it's like?" "Sure. In about five minutes, if you'd like." "OK." She sighed. "But you should do it in any case. It's your job." Alison agreed that getting it from the rear was pretty impersonal and the bars between them made it way less satisfactory, though she liked it anyway. --------------------------------------------------------- "They're building two new houses, and the first is framed in. It's a new design, and I think it's cool. I wish I could show you." Bill said nothing, but stopped stroking her hair. "I really could show you, couldn't I! We could just go there. You promise you won't try to run away?" "Where would I run too? And I'd never run away from you." She smiled and they shared a brief kiss. "But if anyone saw us..." he said. "There's no one around at this time of night. You want to go? Right now?" Her face shone bright with mischief. "I don't have any shoes." "Hmmm. Let me see what I can find." She got up, dressed, and crossed the hall to rummage in the storage room. The door was open, but still Bill said, "Um, can I come too?" Alison appeared at the doorway and smiled. "Yes." Bill realized it had been a dumb question considering their plan, but still he'd felt the need to ask. Then, for the first time since his arrival at Shady Pines, Bill stepped out of his cell. He realized there was so much he'd been curious about. He looked at the empty cells on either side of his, and the ordinary toilet stall down at the end. He studied the window at the end of the hall. "Where are you?" she called. "Oh, sorry, it's just there's so much I've never seen," he said, entering the store room. Alison had found three pairs of beat-up shoes. They found one pair that he could get his feet into, and by taking the laces from a smaller pair they were ready to use. They also found a jacket for him. Alison led the way out of the building, and Bill breathed the fresh air of a cool summer night. He'd been at Shady Pines nearly a year. Through whispered conversations she explained what all the buildings were and answered his questions. Since everything outside was new to him, the new houses were just an incidental part of the tour. Then a light coming on in a window made them realize that the sky in the east was no longer totally dark, so they quickly returned to the former police station and covered the tracks of their illicit night-time activities. Alison locked Bill in, though he thought he saw her hesitate briefly before putting the key in her pocket. A little freedom made Bill hunger for more, so they took several more expeditions on other nights, ranging farther afield, exploring a little into the wilderness around the community. Once Alison surprised him by opening the door to an out-of-the-way house and inviting him in. The resident couple were away on a trip, and so the two of them made love on a real bed for the first time. On one evening when the weather was especially warm they did it on the carpet of needles in a pine grove on the hill. ============================================================ Chapter 6 Bill was pounding away in Alison on his cot by candlelight. They knew each other well by now, and he knew she would be orgasming soon. He gave his lusty grin before closing his eyes and fucking into his mate even more insistently. A noise close by made him freeze, and then a figure was outside his cell, flashlight beam playing over him and Alison. "What the hell?" asked Amy. "How did you get her in there with you? Who is it? Oh, Alison. Are you OK? You'll let her go, right Bill?" The two lovers sat on the cot, sharing the blanket for modesty. "You won't tell, right?" said Alison. "I swear this was all my idea." "That's a really stupid thing to do. He could just walk out of here! And maybe slit your throat and dump you in the woods. And just to get fucked?" "It's not like that!" said Alison hotly, getting up and turning away from Amy as she dressed quickly. Bill dressed too. "Um, I know fucking when I see it." "I mean it's more than that." Alison threw her arms around Bill and they shared a fierce hug. Bill hoped it wouldn't be the last hug of his life. Amy said, "I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you'd come out of there." She didn't need to add that she would lock Bill in. "I don't see why we can't talk this way," said Alison. "It's OK," Bill said to her. "One step at a time." When the two women were in the hallway and Bill locked inside, Amy relaxed visibly. "Barbara said that one night with her insomnia she saw someone coming out of the police station around 4am. So I figured I ought to investigate. I waited upstairs last night." "So, you're not going to tell, are you?" asked Alison. "I should. If I don't, I'll be failing in my duty to the community." Bill cleared his throat. "I imagine they'd want to know everything that's been going on," he said, slightly emphasizing the 'everything'. Amy saw his point immediately and sighed. "OK, so maybe I don't have to report you. But first of all, the key." "What key?" asked Alison. Amy pointed to the locked door. "Or are you a master lock-picker?" Alison hesitated a moment, then produced the key from her pants pocket and handed it over. "Where did you get it?" "From the drawer upstairs." "That drawer is always locked." "Apparently not always," Alison said. Amy sighed. "OK, so this is over. No more visits." "No!" said Alison. "No more visits from anyone?" asked Bill. Amy looked at Alison and then back at Bill. "She knows," said Bill. "Right, not from anyone." "That's not fair," said Alison. "I love him!" Amy switched to fully official mode. "Communicating with men beyond the minimum necessary is forbidden. Fraternizing is forbidden. Sexual activity is forbidden." She frowned at that point, realizing she was guilty -- very guilty. "Playing cards is forbidden. Breaching security is forbidden. And falling in love is most definitely forbidden. It is an insult to the very heart of Dworkinism, a re-emergence of one of the most corrupting institutions of the patriarchy." "Dworkinism is full of shit," said Alison hotly. "I think that's an opinion you'd better keep to yourself," answered Amy, the threat in her tone unmistakable. "From now on we all play by the rules." --------------------------------------------------------- Alison volunteered to fetch Bill's dinner bowl after he was done eating, and the kitchen woman assigned that task was delighted to be free of the job. Amy would probably not have allowed it if she had known, but it wasn't against any policies. "I miss you so much!" whispered Alison. "Me too!" The two lovers kissed, and hands passed through the bars in both directions to fondle and caress. "If only we could..." lamented Alison, wiggling her hips. "Well, there is that old method." "I'd like that so much!" said Alison. "But when?" "I've got to give a sample tomorrow, and Amy is looking at it very carefully now. But some day when I don't have to..." "We could just do it really quick? No one comes down here after supper -- or hardly ever, right?" Bill nodded eagerly. "It's a risk, but..." The hunger in his eyes said everything. --------------------------------------------------------- Several days later, Alison stopped in front of Bill's cell, right hand down the front of her pants, wiggling. She glanced at the bulge in his pants, and raised her eyebrows. Bill nodded. Alison quickly dropped her pants and panties to mid-thigh and got on hands and knees, pressing back against the bars. Bill pulled down his sweats to mid-thigh, maneuvered behind her and pushed. He glided in smoothly, and after ten quick strokes he came, pulsing seed into his forbidden love. Both were completely silent. As his penis slid out he pulled his pants up. Alison rose and similarly put herself together. They both listened again but heard no sign of an impending interruption. Bill motioned her to stand right by the bars and worked his hand down the front of her panties. The wetness from their coupling was apparent around her opening, but he focused on her clitoris and stroked, gentle but strong. They kissed while he stroked, but then she pulled her face away, held the bars, and shut her eyes. Seconds later her face contorted and she shuddered, still soundless. When she had her balance back, she kissed him briefly and started up the stairs. Bill hastily picked up his dinner bowl and tapped on it. Alison heard, returned, and with a grin and a slap to her forehead took it and disappeared. --------------------------------------------------------- Bill's life returned to its former routine. His utterly miserable former routine, he realized. No women visited him in the evening. There were no real hugs, no card games, and no lounging on his cot with Alison. Their exciting and dangerous brief couplings were the highlight of his life, but the frustration was almost as intense as the joy. He missed so much just hearing her talk in leisurely fashion about everything going on in her life -- with her housemates, the furniture shop, or the vegetables. She did sneak him a treat from time to time -- a cucumber, a few grapes, a piece of chocolate. One evening he heard the door upstairs open. No one came in the evenings any more. The woman who appeared was no one he'd seen before, nondescript and unsmiling. "I'm here to get pregnant," she said simply. She had brought her own cushion and put it on the floor. "I'm sorry, ma'am," said Bill. "I am only permitted to give semen samples to Amy." "I know the rules, and I also know they are broken. I've been trying to have a baby now for two years. I know two women who got pregnant doing it this way, and I want you to rape me. I don't care how much it hurts." "I'm sorry, ma'am," said Bill once again, eyes down. "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer," she said. "If the rules were broken for the others, they can be broken for me." "Ummm, I tell you what. I promise if you come back tomorrow I'll do it to you then." He could tell Amy and let her deal with it. "I may not be fertile tomorrow. I either get it now or I tell everyone." From the looks of this woman, she would follow through on her threat. "Very well, ma'am, but please remember that you ordered me to do this." "So I did," she said. "And you obeyed me." With that, she gave him a smirk and presented her rear end for the taking. Bill was angry, but he was also aware of a pussy right in front of him. Fucking could be an angry thing. He spread her lips wider than usual, placed his cock, and gave a mighty shove. "Ouch!" cried the woman. Bill paid no heed, grabbing the woman's hips and puncturing her body mercilessly, over and over. She wasn't even fully lubricated, but he didn't care. She expected him to hurt her, and he would oblige. He heard the door open upstairs just as his second spurt was rocketing into the woman's vagina. There were quick, heavy steps on the stairs. He let go and let the frantic woman pull away. His last bit of semen dribbled out as he hastily pulled his pants up. But the women had seen. They were security. Rumors of women getting fucked by Bill in person had made it to the authorities through a channel independent of Amy, and they had staked out the place. --------------------------------------------------------- Emily and Amy sat across from each other at Emily's kitchen table. Emily glared at her daughter, and Amy couldn't meet her gaze. "Tell me everything. Absolutely everything, you understand?" Her mother wasn't as upset as she expected when she admitted to looking through the forbidden books in the attic. But it was very difficult for her to describe how she had convinced Bill to have sexual intercourse with her. She hastened to add that it was through the bars, so security was not an issue. As she described the mechanics of it, her mother's face reminded her that she had been accepting the classic sex position men used to degrade women. Emily interrupted with occasional groans and sharp cries of, "Amy, how could you!" But she let the story unfold. Amy considered leaving out the part with Alison in the room with Bill, where he could have escaped at any time, but she didn't dare hold anything back from her mother that might come out later. "Oh, Amy..." said Emily at last, holding her head in her hands. She then sat back in her chair. "You realize you fell right into the patterns of the patriarchy, letting your biology get the better of you." "What do you mean 'biology'?" Emily sighed. "When we were setting up the Dworkinian society, there was a great debate. One view was that the men must be completely dehumanized and seen by as few women as possible. Contact would be minimal; they would donate their sperm and nothing else. And that's the view that prevailed. Well, almost. It was agreed that girls and women should see men in a degraded state occasionally. But the other view..." Emily paused. Amy looked at her expectantly. "The other view held that most women are born naturally attracted to men, and we should accept that fact and not be ashamed of it. We would remind girls how that had led to the horrors of the patriarchy, and emphasize how we can be attracted to women too. We had this biological urge, but needed to resist it. Maybe that wouldn't have worked either, but at least you and Alison wouldn't have been blindsided by your attraction to him. But there was one decisive factor." She paused and looked into Amy's eyes. "We have to abort almost all our boy babies, right?" "Right." "If you know the thing growing inside isn't really a human being, it's OK. But if you feel any emotional pull to men, it's much harder to agree to do that. Probably the first position in its pure form would have been best. Leave men hidden, to be glimpsed by only a very few women -- the most dedicated and hard-core Dworkinians." "Mom, do you think men are inhuman monsters or not?" "You obviously don't think so. You've seen their charm. They've always been tricky that way. We women feel that attraction, and our judgment goes out the window. But give them time, they'll show their true stripes. The evil will come out. It's lurking in every last one of them, Amy." "But all the raping they did in the holocaust, it was just the bug, right? It wasn't the men themselves!" "We took that into account, I assure you. The bug wouldn't have had that effect on the men if their underlying predisposition for rape wasn't there, just waiting to be triggered." Amy felt confused. "At least I never unlocked his door." "Yes, at least you did that much," sighed Emily. --------------------------------------------------------- Emily found Amy the next afternoon. "Tomorrow Rachel will resume her duties as handler." "Rachel! She killed Carl!" "Carl killed himself. A weakling. It is decided. No one will be alone with Bill again except Rachel, and only a few women will ever see him. You will never see him again." "Mother!" "You don't seem to understand. I had to work to keep you out of prison. The alternative was to turn you two over to the regional authorities on criminal charges. That gullible, trusting Alison would be facing five years, minimum. You would be looking at two." Amy knew when she was beaten. ============================================================ Chapter 7 It was an unfamiliar footfall that arrived in the morning. It was someone carrying his breakfast bowl, but it wasn't the usual woman. It was Rachel! The second-grade teacher. "You slimy bucket of shit!" she said. "You raped a dozen women, multiple times. I will teach you a lesson you will never forget." "But, ma'am..." "Silence! When I want your opinion I will ask for it." "Here is your breakfast," she said, placing the bowl six feet outside the bars. When she walked up the stairs, Bill fought hard his urge to speak, to point out that he couldn't possibly reach it. But he soon realized it was intentional, and if he complained it would make things worse. She returned a half hour later, picked up the bowl and took it away. He heard what sounded like her dumping it in the upstairs trash. Mid-morning a woman appeared with a giant padlock for his door, and under Rachel's watchful eye she installed it silently as an extra level of security. He faintly heard a snippet of conversation from outside. "... not sure why. But no one's allowed in without official permission." Lunch was similarly placed out of reach. But Rachel looked at him and came back down right after she'd taken the food bowl upstairs. "Clothes. Male animals don't deserve clothes. Hand them over." Bill dutifully stripped and slid the sweatsuit under the bars. "Books and magazines too." Bill complied. "And that screwball Amy must have turned the heat up. Let me fix that. No point in wasting energy on the likes of you." Bill shivered miserably under his blanket all afternoon, his stomach growling. He was also getting thirsty. When Rachel came down with his dinner, he sat up, hoping his punishment was at an end. At least the part about getting no food. Or at least water. When the bowl was set down out of reach and Rachel looked at him, he allowed his hand to go to his throat and his mouth to fall open in an attempt to signal thirst. "Oh, for God's sake. I guess you're not even as smart as a dog, huh?" As soon as Rachel was out of sight, he realized what she was getting at. He didn't have much, but he did have a flushing toilet. It didn't have a tank, but it did have a bowl. It was only cleaned when he cleaned it, and he had nothing to use but his hands. This he now did, working feverishly, trying to get all the crud off, flushing it multiple times. And then he was gratefully cupping the water from the bowl with his hands and drinking it greedily. His hunger made it hard to sleep, but he did finally doze uneasily. In the morning Rachel appeared with his breakfast bowl. "Oh, look at that! A hunk of cheese. That's much too nice to waste on the likes of you." She picked it out with her fingers and ate it with relish, smacking her lips. "And these raisins? I think I'd better eat those too." She put the bowl down well out of reach and then produced a semen sample cup. "Sample. Now." She kicked it under the bars to him. Bill was faint with hunger and feeling humiliated, but he managed it. He turned away from the witch Rachel and began stroking, thinking of the nights when Alison shared the cot with him, of her lovely face, her soft breasts, her smile, her hands on his shoulders, and that hot, smooth pussy... He spurted into the cup, and after fitting the lid, approached the bars obsequiously and placed it underneath. Rachel took it. "So you want food, huh? Well, get down and kiss the floor." Anger surged in Bill, but he did as asked. She then emptied the bowl onto the concrete floor eight inches beyond the bars and stood a foot away, arms folded across her chest. He reached under tentatively, looking to see if she objected, but she just looked. He tried to maintain some dignity as he fingered the oatmeal off the floor and into his mouth, but he was so hungry it was difficult. "An animal," muttered Rachel. As he reached out for his next mouthful, she suddenly stomped on his hand with her boot. Bill winced but didn't cry out. She marched up the stairs and he eagerly finished his oatmeal mixed with floor grit. He got no lunch and half his supper with the best bits removed. Rachel once again dumped the mush on the floor outside his cell, barely in reach. Every morning he was called on to give a semen sample. This he managed for three days, and then the next day no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get an erection. "You're not earning your keep," said Rachel. "And let me make the consequences especially clear. Lean your back against the bars." He didn't know what to expect, but figured he must do as told. When he saw a scalpel in her hand he jumped away. She gave a sick laugh. "Aha! He recognizes danger. Doesn't look so good, does it? Maybe I'll make you submit to this knife to get anything at all to eat." But she didn't press the issue. The next morning, after considerable work he managed to fix a fantasy of Alison in his mind long enough to spurt out some semen, but it was a close call. Half the plain oatmeal was dumped on the floor within reach. The next morning he couldn't manage an erection, and the food stopped. "No semen, no food," explained Rachel simply. "If it was up to me, I would have had you publicly executed. Oh, well." It then occurred to Bill that Rachel might simply starve him to death. From events of the past week and what he had overheard that guard say, it seemed likely that no one except Rachel would come see him, to prevent any more women having any sympathy for him. And if none could see him, none could notice his health deteriorating. Bill considered his options. Rachel slept elsewhere. During the day she sat upstairs, and he would hear her moving from time to time. He had no idea how she was passing the time. But he noticed that she went out from time to time during the day. Her most reliable absence was late afternoon. He waited until she left, and waited some more until he heard voices not too terribly far away -- the old police station wasn't a place many people had occasion to pass in their daily travels. And then he bellowed, "Help me! I'm starving! Help me! I'm starving!" Over and over again. He thought he heard some interruption in the pattern of voices, and he thought perhaps he heard some footsteps coming closer. So he bellowed again. If the word spread to the right people, maybe he'd have a chance. He knew men were not cheap, and however much the authorities hated him, he performed a vital service. Fifteen minutes later the door opened upstairs and then slammed. Heavy footsteps on the stairs foretold the appearance of a livid Rachel. This was the moment he'd been fearing. If she produced a gun... "Damned if you'll eat again!" she spat. "Come here!" She wielded the scalpel. But Bill hung back and dared to shake his head. He was gambling that she wouldn't dare to enter his cell and didn't have any deadly weapons with range. He was prepared to try lifting his cot to the vertical to use as a shield. He was also gambling that no authority figures she called on for backup would support her in killing him by scalpel, gun or starvation. After several seconds, Rachel tromped up the stairs. Afraid Rachel might have turned off the water, he didn't dare to flush the toilet. He let loose his urine in the far corner of the room. That night he huddled in hunger and fear, dozing from time to time. A few times he bellowed out his call for help. There was no interruption until the next morning, when Rachel reappeared with what looked like his breakfast bowl. His hopes were soon dashed as she hurled it into his cell, covering everything. He couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it had a strong fecal odor to it. And to his great dismay, some of it got into his drinking supply. Later, when he was feeling really thirsty, he flushed the toilet and found nothing happened; Rachel had indeed turned the water off. He got through that day somehow, bellowing for help when he heard evidence of anyone in earshot, and finding it drained his strength alarmingly just to shout. At one point he faintly heard a voice outside say, "Sorry, no one is allowed in. Strict orders." --------------------------------------------------------- In the dead of the night, around the time Alison used to visit, he heard the distinctive sound of glass breaking upstairs, and his hopes surged. After banging around and some muttered curses, someone came down the stairs and it was indeed Alison. "Oh, Christ!" she said, her nose wrinkling at the smell of urine and whatever vile mixture Rachel had heaved into his cell. She turned on a dim flashlight. "Your hand!" he said. Her right hand was bleeding freely. "Never mind that." He saw that it was not life-threatening. "It's good to see you," she said quickly, and their faces met at the bars for a quick kiss. She produced a cylinder with a nozzle, and explained it was called an acetylene torch. The kind builders use to cut metal, among other things. "Where should I start?" she asked. "I don't know. I think it'll take two bars for me to get through. Start low, here in the middle?" She lit the torch and began to cut. "Maybe I could do that while you look around to see if there's anything down here that could help speed this up?" She nodded, and he took the torch and began to cut. It was maddeningly slow work. The jail bars were naturally made of a strong metal alloy. Alison didn't find anything of use for getting him out of the cell, though she did find his old clothes and shoes -- assuming they succeeded. They took turns cutting. It was a half hour before the first cut was finally finished, and they immediate began on the second. Alison started in the middle, easily within her reach. Bill explained why they should cut up high, and Alison agreed at once. They hadn't made much progress before the torch began to burn less brightly. "This time it only has to bend," said Alison. She handed the torch to him and as he focused the heat of the torch on the inner surface, she began pulling with all her might. Very gradually the bar did bend, and bent some more. As the torch sputtered out, Alison gave one more mighty tug. It had come out a few feet at the bottom. He hoped he'd been mistaken about the need to remove two bars. He tried to wedge himself through, but it was difficult. She said, "Do it in the middle, where the other bars might bend a little." Bill saw how that would work, and dragged his cot over and stood on it while he wedged himself through. His hips were the sticking point. Alison grabbed the other two bars and tried to pulled them apart with all her strength, though any difference she made wasn't visible. Finally, bruised and scraped, he emerged from the cell and tumbled onto the floor. He hurried into the clothes and shoes Alison had found, but stopped by the sink upstairs to ease the worst of his thirst. The door to the building was locked from the inside as well as the outside with multiple locks, which apparently took the place of a nighttime guard. They crawled back out of the broken window before they took off into the woods. Bill felt dizzy and faint. Alison handed him a hunk of cheese to eat as he staggered along. She dared use the flashlight once they were at some distance from their community, but before long the sky was light enough to walk by. He was no judge of distances, but it seemed forever before they finally arrived at the shed Alison had scouted out for him. There he dove into more cheese and nuts. When he finally lay down, exhausted, Alison lay beside him and they hugged. Bill didn't try to stop himself from crying. They exchanged a few perfunctory kisses but he hadn't the strength for anything else. After a few minutes, he asked, "So, you need to be heading back soon?" She looked at him with surprise. "I can't go back any more." "Why not?" "Because I stole from the community shop? Destroyed property? And worst of all, helped you escape? Amy told me that if I'd been convicted for giving you the chance to get out through an unlocked door, I could have faced 10 years in prison." "Oh," he said. After a moment, he added, "I don't know how we'll manage, but I'll be really glad to have you with me." They beamed at each other and shared a more tender kiss. --------------------------------------------------------- Bill slept until noon, then consumed an alarming percentage of the food Alison had brought. Somehow there was no kettle or pot or large vessel of any kind available for carrying water, so she led him to a stream not too far away where he could get a long drink. He trudged back uphill with her and sat on the steps of the covered wooden porch of the cabin. "You feeling better? We have some decisions to make," said Alison. "Yeah, OK." She brought out a map. "I've looked at a few of these old farms around here, but I think we ought to look at a lot more. We're here." She pointed. "Where's Shady Pines?" Alison pointed again. "So we walked past these three last night?" he asked. "I didn't dare stay too close, in case there are search parties." "Oh, OK." Bill put his arm around Alison's waist. "We don't know who we're likely to encounter out here, so having a network of places we can quickly move between seems safest." He worked his hand under her shirt at the waist and slid it up her smooth, warm back. Alison hesitated. "We have to be looking for old orchards that might still produce some fruit, and for wild plants, or grains gone wild." Bill leaned in to Alison and took a deep sniff of her hair, then nibbled on her ear. Alison turned to face Bill and engaged him in a passionate kiss. Their hands roamed freely over each other's bodies. "Oh, Bill, I've missed this so much!" They hurriedly shed clothing, and Alison quickly arranged Bill's sweatshirt and sweatpants so she could lie on her back with legs spread. One foot rested on the porch, the other leg trailing away over the edge. Bill's erection was full and hard and he prepared to mount her as he stood on the ground below the porch. He caressed her between the legs briefly. "No -- In, go in!" Alison cried. Bill grinned and moved in for the penetration, but suddenly staggered sideways. He managed not to fall, but his butt landed heavily on the porch beside Alison. "Are you OK?" she asked, scrambling up. "Uhhhh, guess I'm still pretty weak." "Oh, I'm sorry honey," she said, grabbing the sweatsuit and arranging it behind Bill as she laid him down. He smiled at her, but couldn't keep his eyes off her breasts or especially her engorged pussy. "I really want to," he said. "Oh, I know, me too!" Bill's erection was as hard as before, and as he looked at her it twitched. "Do you suppose we could, like..." Alison giggled as she mounted him awkwardly, shifting around to find a workable angle. Bill smiled too, until the physics was finally right, and her body descended rapidly until their pubic bones met, his penis at the same time pressing up into her depths. Their smiles vanished and they stared into each other's eyes. Alison lifted herself up and fell again, lifted and fell, experimenting but soon finding a rhythm that worked. Bill moaned, his eyes closed with a faint smile. Alison experimented with rhythms and pressures, soon finding one that not just worked but felt really good as well... a rise, a plunge, and a slight horizontal drag of her outer pussy parts against his pubic bone. Her breathing got ragged and shallow as her body twitched. "I'm gonna... uh... give a sample!" said Bill. "Yeah, do it!" Alison said, rising and falling four times in quick succession as Bill gave a plaintive moan and she felt him twitch. Then she plastered herself against his pubic bone, gasped and shuddered several times before collapsing on him. They lay like that for several minutes, as Alison felt Bill's penis shrink. She finally disengaged and lay beside him on her back on the rough wooden porch. "That way is really nice too," she said. "Yeah," said Bill. "It's sort of proof in another way that you really want it. You're actually doing the puncturing part." Alison nodded. In another few minutes they put themselves together and resumed their planning session. Their most pressing problem was how to get food. Other amenities would be needed soon and, as it was now September 9th in the old state of Wisconsin, it would soon be joined by the need for warm clothing. "We've got one more problem," said Alison. "Well, at least in the short run it's a problem. Or the medium run." Bill looked at her, puzzled. "I'm pregnant. It must have been from one of those super-quickies through the bars."" "Oh... Oh! That's great!" Amy had told him he was already the father of a few baby girls and several as yet unborn. But this would be a girl he might actually get to live with, who would know him as a parent. And it was Alison's baby too. He decided it was very good news, and grinned. Then he suddenly realized it might not be a daughter. It might be a son. "But that means that in about 7 months things get a lot more complicated." Bill furrowed his brow. "But we have one resource. A person. Want to guess?" "Um... Amy?" "Bingo. The word got to Amy pretty fast about your yelling that you were starving, and she came straight to me. She had nothing to do with the escape. Well, except for telling me to look into acetylene torches. But we've got an arrangement. Amy and I have agreed on a couple places where she can leave things. Like food, if she can manage it without arousing suspicion." ============================================================ Chapter 8 Bill lay on his back, naked except for a pair of ill-fitting sneakers, hands clasped behind his head, looking up at the clouds. The sun's rays played through some pine trees, dappling his body with shifting patterns of light. It was a warm afternoon in early October, and he lay on the gentle rise behind the cabin. There were so many things that were totally new to him. Sunshine. Grass. Space. Beautiful, wonderful Alison, his savior and hero, lying beside him every night. If he ever woke in the dark, he could count on her warm soft presence. Even in the deepest sleep, her chest rose and fell, assuring him of her life. His semen was his to do with as he pleased. No more plastic cups. He could keep it to himself. Mostly he and Alison were in hearty agreement that he should tuck it up into the far end of her vagina at least a couple times a day. Whenever one of them was in the mood, the other could be awakened to passion very quickly. If Bill's organ was stubbornly limp after multiple bouts of sex, he could nuzzle his face between Alison's legs and bring her pure pleasure with the work of his tongue. He remembered the first time he felt fully recovered, as they lay down for the night. The full moon outside lit the room as by magic, and the two of them worked slowly and sensuously towards a coupling -- with no hurry, no fear of interruption, and no need to part when they were done. It had been absolutely perfect, his thrusting rising over a half hour in strength, depth and speed, punctuated at the end by simultaneous cries of pure ecstasy. And they had fallen asleep within minutes. Above all what he cherished was freedom. He could walk a mile in any direction, stay as long as he liked, and walk back. He could walk away and never come back to Alison. That was the last thing on his mind, but still -- he could. He was free. Today Alison had gone on the long trek to the designated spot to pick up supplies from Amy. He stayed at the cabin because he simply could not be seen by anyone. Someone who had seen one of the "Wanted" posters of Alison might recognize her from close up if she saw her face. But the sight of any man would be alarming and cause to notify the authorities. Shaving his beard off would help a little, but this was a society without razors. Shaving body hair on women was a sickness of the patriarchy, and society was free of it now. Bill thought he picked up the sound of voices at some distance. This was alarming. He scrambled down the hill away from the cabin into a hollow and hid as best he could behind a bush. Before long, he heard Alison's sweet voice from a distance. "Honey, I'm home!" Bill was wary. Could someone have captured Alison and forced her to lead them to Bill at gunpoint? Alison spoke again in a loud, clear voice. "Where are you, dear? I've got a surprise." He heard her speak in a low voice and then another answered her. A familiar voice. Amy? He crept around the hill to where he could get a view of the cabin, and there he saw Alison emerge from the cabin to join Amy, who was waiting outside. Both looked relaxed, not as if they were in the sights of an unseen woman toting a gun. Two full backpacks leaned against the wall. "He's not in there, but I'm sure he'll be back soon. Unless... someone found him?" "I'm here," he called, to Alison's visible relief, and picked his way through the woods back to the cabin. As he approached, he felt a bit uncomfortable with his nakedness. Both of these women had seen him naked and had very intimate contact with the organs on display. But somehow the idea of being naked with either of them didn't feel right with the other one watching. "See who I dragged in?" Alison asked with a smile, not seeming to mind. "Yeah, indeed! Hi, Amy. What happened? -- Actually, first let me get dressed." When the supplies were put away and the two travelers could relax with their feet up, the story began. "Well, your little wriggly things are enterprising and devious. I'm pregnant too." "Oh... From when?" "I guess my calculations weren't quite right one time." "Um, congratulations?" "Yes, thank you." "How long are you staying?" "I'm staying forever. Or at least, I can't go back to the community. I had the genetic test, and my baby has a defect. They wanted to do the abortion right then when they told me, but I told them I wanted to prepare myself. And then I ran off. When my mother was grilling me about this whole business, there was this part that stuck with me. I can't stand the thought of snuffing out another boy, just because he's a boy. Not that he'd suffer or anything, but still..." "Oh, hmmmm." He thought a moment and smiled. "It's a touching vote of confidence in my gender." "You're the reason. I mean... Alison tells me the two of you are a committed couple, and I know what we had is all over and done, but just seeing you as a person -- it changed everything. My mom even explained that was the reason for degrading you men so much -- so women wouldn't mind aborting male fetuses. The hard-liners didn't even want to let girls or women ever see men except for a very few of the most fanatical Dworkinists. My mom had me doubting it when we talked, but I know men aren't evil." Bill nodded and paused. "It will be good to have you." Alison addressed him. "I'll say, especially since you can't go anywhere. And since we're going to have babies. And since Amy is a trained midwife." "Oh, really! That could be really important." Amy said, "I'm due first, of course, but hopefully I can teach you two enough of what I know to get us through it alive." --------------------------------------------------------- Amy had run off with a backpack and a half of stolen food, but it still wouldn't last terribly long. The three of them had to find more. And the first step was for the two women to explore far and wide collecting information. The need to find a reliable supply was urgent, for their need for supplies would be acute when the women got to mid-pregnancy and even greater when the babies arrived. Hiking long distances would become difficult as they neared the end of the pregnancies. The countryside was covered with abandoned settlements, of course, but they would not contain any significant food stashes. Wild plants wouldn't last them through the winter. They figured their best hope was to explore around the edges of existing communities and see if they could find any rebels or discontents on the periphery. Alison was hiking in a wide circle around Mother Earth, a major community. She spied a farm with four or five buildings, abandoned judging from the overgrown state of the fields. But as she watched she saw a woman emerge from one house and sit on the steps. Alison approached cautiously until she was 50 yards away. "Hello," she called softly, and when there was no reaction she called a bit louder. After her fourth attempt, the woman stood up quickly, obviously alarmed. She dashed inside. After a minute or so, she emerged with another woman. Alison decided she would have to take her chances, so she approached. "What are you doing here?" asked the second woman. "I'm exploring. And you two?" "We live here, at least for now." "This doesn't look like it's part of a sanctioned community." "No, it doesn't, I agree. What are you doing wandering? We guessed you were not from the police." Alison smiled. "Hardly. I have my reasons for wandering out here alone." "As do we. What's yours?" Alison decided to use Amy's reason, which would be more palatable than having sprung a full-grown adult male from captivity. "My baby has a genetic defect, and I just couldn't face the idea of aborting it, somehow." The two women looked at each other and nodded. "Welcome to the club. Us too." All three smiled and relaxed. "Is it just the two of you?" They nodded. "And you?" "I have a companion -- another woman in the same situation. We live some distance from here. But we're trying to connect with others." "We've thought of that, but it seems risky. What's your thinking?" "There's strength in numbers. And it seems we'll all be in need of a babysitting coop." They all smiled at that. "But we also need to find a reliable food source." The two others looked at each other. "That's not a problem we have. Mother Earth is a major farming community, and we have friends on the inside. They'll keep us supplied indefinitely. Do you bring anything to the table?" "Well, my friend is an experienced midwife." The second woman smiled. "I think we might work out a deal." The two women were named Tara and Violet. Amy, Alison, and Bill picked up stakes and moved to another abandoned farm only a couple miles from them. --------------------------------------------------------- Amy, Violet and Tara sat relaxing, with no urgent business at hand. "I still don't get why you don't want to all move in together," said Violet. "Here if this is better, your place if it's not." Amy had been waiting for this conversation. "Have you thought about the future? After the babies are born?" "Not too much. What do mothers ever do? Raise their babies." "But they're going to be boys, right?" Violet and Tara nodded. "What do you know about boys? Have you ever met a boy? How is a boy going to live in this society?" "I took care of a baby boy," said Tara. "One we were raising to sell: David. He was so cute! I couldn't tell anyone that, though. The leaders kept reminding me that appearances were deceiving. He might seem cute now, but the seed of evil lurked inside him and would blossom hideously at puberty. And she's right, of course. But still, I couldn't help imagining David as I thought about the abortion, and I just couldn't go through with it." "So, what happens when your boys get to puberty?" "We'll figure out something," said Violet. Tara said, "I heard a theory that if you raise a boy right, he won't get violent. That it was all part of the patriarchy. I know that's not what Dworkinism says." "True. And I agree they might be wrong about that. But are you willing to chance it? In 15 years or so, your son will go through puberty, he'll be stronger than you. What's he going to do? Are you going to sell him at auction?" Tara looked at her indignantly. "Right, I didn't think so. So is he going to go off on his own?" "No, I figure we'll just live in a community." "So you're willing to live with a grown man? The same kind who are kept locked up for sperm donors today?" "Yes, I guess we are. Grown men who we've raised every step of the way to be gentle and kind." "Do you think any men today are gentle and kind?" "No," said Violet at once. "At least you couldn't ever be sure," said Tara. "There's a reason they keep them locked up." "You know, my mother was one of the founders, or among that first group at least," said Amy. "She told me a very interesting story about why we raise boys alone in cages. We need women to think men are disgusting worthless animals, or else -- we wouldn't be willing to abort the male fetuses." Both women looked surprised. "Whoa," said Tara. "It didn't work with me -- because I'd seen a little boy as a person... Makes sense." "What would you think if a man showed up here one day?" "I've got a knife," said Violet. "You think that would keep him at bay?" "Probably not, if he was determined. That's one of the things we give up out here is the safety of a community. Against all kinds of dangers. Fortunately there are no men on the loose." "Alison and I knew the sperm donor in our community. I was in charge of him for a while. He was really a pretty nice guy." "How could you tell what he'd do if he was loose?" "Well, we did a sort of experiment. First, I had sex with him." "No!" "You're kidding! You let him rape you?" "It was through the bars of his cage. You know, like doggy style. And you won't believe it, but it felt really good. I came to love it. That's another heresy to Dworkinism. But it's true. He always did just what I asked. It's really an experience, I assure you." The two women looked skeptical. Violet said, "So you were safe, because he was still behind bars. I mean, he could rape you, but I guess you could always get away?" "Right. And then I'd heard that sometimes women who have trouble getting pregnant might have more success if they actually had sex with a man the old-fashioned way. So some of the desperate ones came and stuck their butts up against the bars and got raped. Seemed to work for a few of them." "Ewwww!" said Tara with a nervous laugh. "But Alison took it further. Alison trusted him. Alison played cards with him and talked with him and then she let herself into his cell and they did it in there. And she loved the sex too. And he loved it. They saw each other every few nights." The two women were spellbound. "What happened in the end?" "I've only got to the middle," said Amy with a smile. "As I said, I was his handler -- his name was Bill. And I discovered them, and made them stop. She had unlocked the door! All he had to do was knock her down and take off. It really freaked me out." "So you both liked this guy and wouldn't abort your male fetuses..." said Tara. "To that point we'd been keeping the new fertility technique quiet. Just a very few desperate women knew, ones who were lawbreakers too. Then news got out somehow. Our community leaders found out. And then the shit really hit the fan. They got me out of my job in a hurry, and they put in this woman who's really sadistic. She'd been in charge of our previous man and he killed himself, and this woman was halfway through starving Bill to death." "Then what?" "Then Alison sprung him. Torched the jail bars in the middle of the night." "Is he still on the loose?" "He's not 'on the loose'. He lives with us. He's a normal person, just like a woman. If we're all going to move in together, he comes too." Violet and Tara looked at each other uneasily. Amy sighed. "Except he's not really like a woman. He's got a beard, and he's tall and strong and has a deep voice. And his penis, plunging in and out..." She shuddered, smiled and her eyes looked into the distance. "The biggest mistake I ever made was not trusting him. If I'd been the one who dared to go into that cell with him, and if I was the one who sprung him in the middle of the night, he'd be in love with me now instead of with Alison. But she saw something I didn't, or took a risk and got lucky, or whatever, and now she's got him and I don't." Amy emerged from her reverie. "Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell them that last part." --------------------------------------------------------- Violet and Tara stood side-by-side, notably pregnant, at the front of the shell of an old abandoned church. They sang "Pomp and Circumstance" with nonsense syllables, not particularly tunefully. Amy (very pregnant) and Bill (not in the least bit pregnant) walked down the aisle arm-in-arm. Waiting at the altar was the very pregnant Alison. When Amy and Bill reached Alison, Amy tearfully kissed him on both cheeks and handed him over to Alison, and the two stood as a couple for the ceremony. Violet said, "Repeat after me... I, Alison Entwistle, do take you, William Lake, to be my lawful wedded husband..." Alison repeated the ancient words after her, phrase by phrase. "To honor and cherish..." "To honor and cherish..." "In sickness and in health..." "In sickness and in health..." "As long as you both shall live." "As long as we both shall live." Tara led Bill through his part. "I, William Lake, do take you, Alison Entwistle..." The vows they had agreed upon were the same. "To honor and cherish..." "To honor, cherish and obey..." Everyone looked at Bill. "To honor and cherish..." corrected Tara. "To honor, cherish and obey..." Bill looked around. "Hey, she saved my life. She gave me life when I had nothing. Perhaps my bow to Dworkinism..." He looked thoughtful a moment. "But not really. It's my choice." He looked at Alison tenderly. Tara nodded and began again. "To honor, cherish and obey..." "To honor, cherish and obey..." "In sickness and in health..." "In sickness and in health..." "As long as you both shall live." "As long as we both shall live." "You may kiss the groom." Alison threw her arms around Bill's neck and pulled him down, over her huge belly, and kissed him passionately. --------------------------------------------------------- Bill patted little Isaac's back as he finally stopped crying, his jerky irregular breathing giving way to the slower pattern of sleep. Bill tiptoed out to join the women assembled. "Hopefully they'll all stay down for a little while," he said. The women present were Amy, Alison, Violet, and Tara, along with the newer arrivals Molly and Wanda. Asleep in the back rooms were five babies. The oldest was Amy's boy Thomas, ten months. The next was Alison's daughter Addie, nine months. Andrew was Violet's, not quite nine months. Victor was Tara's, nearly eight months. Isaac was Molly's child and the youngest of them at four months. Wanda was due in two weeks. News of Violet and Tara's decision had passed by word of mouth through Mother Earth with its 2,900 inhabitants. Molly and Wanda had decided that they too would not abort their male fetuses and had run off to join the small band of outcasts. Amy spoke. "Violet, tell them all what you heard today, just to make sure we're all on the same page." "Nancy just found out she's carrying a boy, and she wants to join us. And she says that it's getting more and more common, women confiding to each other that they don't think it's right to have an abortion. Some talk about running away, though I doubt most would have the courage." Amy said, "But they're all waiting to hear the results of the genetic test, right? No one's saying, 'I'll go even if it's a girl'." "Right." "We're all happy here, right? Things are going pretty well. We've learned how to reclaim fields well enough to get decent crops -- nothing like Mother Earth, of course. We are harboring a despicable, inferior, dangerous human being but everybody thinks he's OK." Everyone smiled at Bill. Alison got up and sat in his lap, curling up against his chest, eliciting more smiles. "We have four boys and one girl. If all goes well with Wanda and Nancy, we'll shortly have six boys and one girl. If Nancy's information is correct about women thinking more and more about running away, we could soon have a dozen boys and one girl. I take it everyone sees the pattern here." Violet said, "Right. It's like voting with our feet. Dworkinism will fall." "Maybe eventually, but think it through. We're an illegal settlement. No one's paying much attention to us. But what happens when the news gets back to the Central Committee that there are a hundred women with a hundred sons living just a couple miles from Mother Earth? They'll think ahead to a time when there are a hundred young men in their late teens or early 20s. There will be more women and some younger boys, but it doesn't change the picture. What are these young men going to do? Remember, Dworkinism may have a lot of propaganda in it, but the real history is clear too. I know it from my reading: gangs of young men are dangerous." Tara said, "We'll raise them right. They'll be loving, kind boys." Amy said, "So we'll all just farm together? And the boys will live as bachelors?" "Some might be gay." "A few. But men at their best like to settle down and get married. Who are they going to marry?" "Addie will be a very popular girl," said Violet. Alison lifted her head long enough to say, "Yeah, well, her mother's going to have a shotgun." "They could marry us," suggested Molly. "We're going to be in our 40s or older." Molly offered another idea. "We can have more children, if Bill's willing." Wanda groaned as the boy in her tummy poked her flesh out visibly with some limb. "More?" Alison lifted her head again. "The deal is that anyone who wants to try for a new pregnancy should see me. At my command, Bill will produce semen which I will deliver to you in a small plastic cup." "Sure we can't convince you to deliver it into a tight, hot, wet, fleshy cup?" asked Molly seductively. Bill smiled. "If my wife commands it, I would be willing." Amy said in a stage whisper, "Willing, ha! I've seen you in action..." "That was when I was a bachelor," Bill replied and looked fawningly at Alison. Resuming her leader's role, Amy said, "But remember, half of the children we make out here in the wilderness will be boys too. So maybe there are 120 boys and 20 girls -- it's still a really unstable situation. And I don't think the Dworkinian authorities would stand for it. Consider also that the bigger a community gets, the more women will hear about it and the more will want to join when they find they've got to abort their boy." "So what do you suggest?" asked Bill. "I've been away for a month, as you know. I've been scouting. There is perfectly good land a couple hundred miles from here, in a bowl in the mountains. Isolated. I think we should move there. Very soon." "But what will the other women do?" asked Violet. "I don't know. Maybe they'll come out and when there are enough of them they'll take off for some other place. Maybe they'll stay and we'll get to find out what the Central Committee will do." Violet said, "I think you're borrowing trouble. Who knows what the future will bring? Any number of things could happen in the mean time. Like the old religions preached -- you help the needy in front of you; you don't wait until you can solve the whole thing." "I'm thinking of the people in this room and the babies back there," said Amy, gesturing. "These are the people in front of me that I want to help." "You don't know the women at Mother Earth. We do," said Violet. "I know you do," said Amy. "We're not an indivisible union. We never made any promises to each other." "Would you go by yourself?" asked Tara. "Just you and Thomas?" "No, there has to be a critical mass." Amy looked around and there were no other comments. "What are your thoughts?" "I'm staying," said Violet. No one else jumped in. "I think for me it all depends on what Bill does," said Molly. "I mean, I know he's married to Alison, so it's not that part. But having a source of sperm makes a big difference somehow. That's the only way we'll get girls." Amy smiled to herself. "Bill?" "I will do what Alison wants to do." Alison asked him, "If it was up to you, what would you do?" "I am an inferior being. My only purpose for existing is to produce sperm." The others laughed, but when Bill didn't join in they quieted quickly. "I'm grateful to be alive and grateful for what I have, which is more than I deserve." He looked around. "You realize that's what I was taught. That's what I believed the whole time I was growing up." "Dworkinism sucks," said Molly softly. "That was then, this is now," said Alison. "I hereby set you free, O Genie! You decide as you will." Bill smiled at Alison. "I will still do what you decide," he said. "Which includes going if you stay, or staying if you go, however sad that would make me. But you want my opinion?" "That's the idea," said Alison with a touch of exasperation. "I think we should go." Amy said, "And you, Alison?" "Going, of course." When the others looked at her, she explained with a grin, "I was going to make him go anyway, I just hoped he'd see it my way." "So, a show of hands for who's going?" asked Molly. She raised her hand. Amy's hand went up, followed by Alison's. Seeing her hand go up, Bill raised his. Tara hesitated a moment, with a sidelong glance at Violet, and then raised her hand. Wanda said, "I don't think I'm up for a long journey." When she heard of the choice, Nancy left Mother Earth ahead of schedule and joined the migration to the north. Just Violet, Andrew, Wanda, and the bulge in Wanda's belly stayed behind. ============================================================ Chapter 9 "Haaa!" said Isaac, lunging forward with his straight stick. Thomas grabbed it and tossed it aside, but Isaac mimed a karate kick. Thomas caught his foot, which sent Isaac sprawling. Thomas turned him over and straddled him, pinning his arms with his knees. "You give?" asked Thomas with menace. "Fat chance!" shouted Isaac, kicking Thomas's back and wriggling free. Victor had picked up the stick and was whacking it hard on the rock. It splintered. Addie sat off to the side, glancing at the boys from time to time but mostly picking more dandelions to add to the bunch in her hand. The grown-ups watched. "Hey Tara," said Bill. "I think Isaac's been getting kind of aggressive lately. Can you teach him to stop?" Tara stuck out her tongue but sighed wearily. Alison's twins Amelia and Evan sat in the sandbox, digging, sifting, and molding. Alison's third pregnancy was just starting to show. Amy nursed her newborn George. "But seriously," said Tara. "Look at the violence there. We never taught that. We've run ourselves ragged trying to get them to stop. Rewards, punishments, begging and pleading. Are the Dworkinians right after all?" Amy answered, "They're right that the tendencies are inborn. But not that they can't be controlled." Bill said, "Hey Addie, sweetheart, can you come here?" The 5-year-old skipped over and handed her father the dandelions. "Thanks so much!" Addie climbed up on her father's lap for a snuggle. "Addie, you see the boys playing there." She looked at Isaac and Thomas wrestling in the dirt. "What do you think of them? Are they being bad boys?" Addie shrugged. "They're being boys." "Are you scared of them?" "No, silly." Bill said to the grown-ups, "So maybe girls start out being OK with boy tussling until we teach them it's bad?" "It's bad?" Bill looked at Alison, who answered. "No, honey, we're just doing grown-up talk. It's bad if they hurt each other." "Oh," said Addie, who gave her father a big kiss on the cheek, wriggled down, and went off to a different patch of dandelions. --------------------------------------------------------- "Allie, I've pretty much kept quiet for five years now, but I've got something to say," said Amy. "OK." "You know Tara's been trying to get pregnant for four years now and it hasn't worked." "Yeah, that's sad." "You remember back at Shady Pines when some of the women came and got it from Bill directly, and they got pregnant..." "Oh, this again." "We need more kids." "He's my husband." "I know, but he's also the only male we've got. I mean the only man. Who knows how women's bodies work? There's all kinds of signals and pheromones and everything. The artificial way works sometimes, but not always. What are you afraid of?" "Afraid of?" "You're not afraid Bill's going to leave you, are you? Let me tell you... A half dozen times over the years I've been alone with Bill. There's been a soft place nearby. I've really wanted him so bad, and I never said anything but I think he knew. He knew he could snap his fingers and I'd be his. But he never did. His pants may have bulged a couple times, but he was very clear. No caress, no meaningful look, nothing." Alison was thoughtful. "We never dreamed a man could be so kind, did we? Remember all that about how the man got excited by thinking about how much pain he was causing the woman?" "Yeah, I remember." Alison was thoughtful a few seconds. "Would it be OK if I was there? To oversee the mating?" Amy's shock gave way to a smile. "Um, I guess it's up to them. But I know if it was me I'd agree in a flash." --------------------------------------------------------- Tara lay back on the bed, naked. Alison was in T-shirt and shorts that were loose enough for her modest belly. She sat to Tara's left, the naked Bill sat to Tara's right. "Tara, what would you like?" "I'd like to get pregnant, if I could." "And what have you tried so far?" "I have tried over 30 times to inject semen with a baster into my vagina during my most fertile time. In a lot of women it would cause a pregnancy, but it hasn't in mine." "So what's the alternative?" "If you could be so kind -- I know it's a huge favor to ask -- I'd like your husband to press his erect penis forcefully into my vagina, over and over again until he ejaculates." Bill's penis was rising, but he looked only at Alison. "And you, Bill, what do you think of this?" "I think that increasing our population is important. If Tara wants to become pregnant, I am all in favor. Thrusting my penis forcefully into Tara's vagina until I ejaculate is something I believe I can do, and at the crass level of animal pleasure, I would enjoy it. But I have pledged myself to you, Alison, my savior and true love, and so would never do such a thing without your true and enthusiastic consent." She knew what Bill was going to say, more or less, but she still couldn't help blushing a little. "Very well. I command that this should take place. Bill, please mount Tara." The man loomed over the receptive woman. Tara held the lips of her pre-aroused genitalia apart, while the tip of Bill's fully erect organ waited an inch from the opening. Alison placed the tip in Tara's vestibule, but suddenly got an impish grin. "Tara, are you sure you want this? Do you want to be stabbed, penetrated, degraded and humiliated by this disgusting specimen of humanity? The right to be free of such grievous insult is one of your fundamental rights under Dworkinism." "Yes," said Tara, smiling but licking her lips. "I waive my rights, with complete enthusiasm and with no hint of duress or coercion." "OK, Bill," said Alison. "Fuck her!" Bill pressed forward gently and his cock slowly spread Tara's tissues. Tara sighed and smiled. When Bill was in a couple inches, he began a gentle in and out motion. His face was impassive, and while he stole quick glances of Tara, he mostly looked at Alison. "Ah, c'mon," said Alison, and Bill at once held himself still. "We're trying to convince Tara's body to get pregnant. Do it fast and deep! Lie down on her! Clutch her! Forget about me until you're done. The most important thing in the world right now is making her pregnant." She leaned in and whispered in Bill's ear, "And go ahead and really enjoy yourself." Bill turned and beamed at Alison. He turned back to Tara, while Alison slid off the bed and stood a few feet away. Bill forced his penis in deeper and deeper, and Tara winced twice but made no complaint. Having achieved his depth, Bill switched to longer and faster strokes, until he was pounding away with a vengeance. He snarled playfully, and leaning forward he nipped Tara's right nipple in his teeth. "You wanna get pregnant?" he growled. "Yes!" "You want me to belch out gobs of sticky, smelly stuff in your hole?" "Yes, yes!" Bill lay down on Tara, worked his hands around down below until he was clutching one ass cheek in each hand, and he began pounding harder and faster, jamming his cock in to the hilt. On and on he went, trying to leave no doubt in Tara's reptilian brain, however clueless it might be, that she was truly being fucked, bred and mated. Alison wasn't too surprised to feel herself getting wet down below, and after brief consideration, shrugged and stuck her hand down the front of her pants. Tara whimpered with increasing frequency and urgency over the course of a minute until she tensed and chirped out an orgasm, then relaxed. Bill paused briefly to lift himself up and work Tara's thighs impossibly far apart with his knees. He held himself up, looking down at her with a notably lewd leer. And then he resumed a terrific pace of long, deep fuck strokes. "Ready to get pregnant?" he growled. "Yes!" squeaked Tara. He went even faster, the muscles on his back rippling, his butt clenching and contracting faster than Alison believed possible. He panted and growled with increasing urgency, building over the course of a minute, leaning forward until he let our a roar while he jammed himself deep into Tara and held perfectly still. Some distance away, they all heard Addie say, "What was that? Is daddy OK?" Amy's reassuring voice said, "Don't worry, dear, that's just the grown-ups playing." "Is he angry?" "No, dear, it's all in good fun -- oh, yes, very good fun," she said. Bill was breathing hard and let himself down onto Tara until she bore his full weight. "You gonna get pregnant?" he growled. "Yes!" "You promise?" "Well..." "I'm not gonna get up 'til you promise!" "I promise," croaked Tara, struggling for breath beneath Bill's muscled body. Bill lifted himself up slowly and disengaged their lower parts. The places where their bodies had been joined were drenched with sweat, and Bill's limp cock glistened with fluid while Tara's entire vulva was wet and dripping. Alison leapt forward, grabbed Bill's hand and pulled the dazed man through a door into the next room, slamming the door behind her. "What?" he asked, confused. Alison stripped quickly, lay back on the bed and spread her legs wide. "Give me your tongue -- it won't take long!" Bill grinned as he lowered his head to his wife's vulva and began licking her the way he knew she liked best, and they clutched hands. Her breathing became irregular and urgent. The pleasure she felt below mingled with her husband's reassuring presence and his wonderful intentions, but at the heart of her pleasure were those vivid images of Bill's ferocious masculinity in demolishing Tara's virginity. She convulsed in a magnificent, soul-shaking orgasm. Bill scooted up to lie full-length on the bed, and Alison latched onto his side. "So, how was it?" she asked. "You taste so good, and you seemed to have a nice big one!" "Not that, silly! Before, with Tara!" "Oh, that," Bill said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just stud duty. I felt kind of used, actually." But he couldn't fake the somber expression for long and broke out into the biggest grin Alison had ever seen. As Alison observed Bill and Tara over the next few days, they both looked profoundly happy. Yet there was no flirtation between them; they were formally polite with each other. And Bill was as attentive to Alison as ever, and made love to her a mere six hours after his fireworks with Tara with even more appreciation than usual, depositing his seed right where she wanted it. Alison thought maybe she had been missing something all these years, hoarding for herself a kind of love that was meant to be given away more freely. She looked at Amy and thought about what they all owed to her. Bill owed his life to Alison, but he also owed it to Amy, who had bought him at auction when no one else would have. She had pioneered the idea of having sex directly with Bill, so he knew a little about what to do during their first encounter. She had thought of the acetylene torch when Alison had asked innocently what she knew about tools to cut iron. Months later, she had the foresight to see that they needed to get far away from Mother Earth. Bill's first sexual encounter with Amy that wasn't through the cell bars wasn't quite as dramatic as with Tara, partly because Amy wasn't really trying to get pregnant. But Alison was present, obtained the same assurances of fealty from the participants, and once again found herself very hot and excited to see the two of them go at it. This time after Bill had unloaded in Amy, Alison invited her to stay and watch Bill pleasure her, and Amy admitted it was arousing to watch. They had assembled a ragtag library from books in the abandoned settlements, and in one of them they found that polygamy was a stable form of social organization. Feminists condemned it, of course, as it implied that women were property and that men could have multiple partners while still strenuously denying the same right to women. But this was a special case; the other women simply had no other options. It was also special because it was Alison, not Bill, who was calling the shots. There were lots of shots, and Bill never missed one. The fertility of the little group rose substantially. A woman's womb never stayed empty for more than a couple months if she wanted it filled. ============================================================ Chapter 10 The oldest children were twelve when an electrifying news story made its way to them. In the former state of Georgia, the Dworkinian militia had been called up to hunt down and capture a band of renegades. Approximately 300 women whose babies had been diagnosed as having the genetic disease of maleness had, instead of having the required abortions, fled over the years in a steady stream into the wilderness. They had banded together and supported themselves for many years with makeshift agriculture in an illegal settlement. But when the older boys had grown into their teen years, trouble began. First there were isolated reports of rapes at settlements in the area -- the kind where the women struggled or said "no", not the kind defined by political ideology. This was followed by hit-and-run gang rape attacks and finally abductions. The initial contingent of Dworkinian negotiators had been hopeful that the young men would surrender. When that didn't happen, they were confident of a quick victory by their militia, since they were armed with automatic weapons. But the teen boys had managed to locate firearms of their own. The militia had found themselves taking casualties from sniper fire in their exploratory raids. An entire patrol perished in an ambush. Many of the renegade women had surrendered when it became apparent that a military operation was in progress, some bringing their young sons with them. But the teen boys defied calls to surrender. Finally 3,000 militia had been assembled. Some adult women were found firing on their fellow women in fierce and primitive defense of their sons. Devious tactics by the boys resulted in another dozen fatalities among the militia. But the boys were cornered and utterly defeated. Fifty-five young men had been killed in battle. Twenty-four who had been part of military resistance had been publicly executed. Authorities refused to comment on the fate of the younger boys. Rumors were that some had been captured and imprisoned -- which was, after all, the fate of all males regardless of behavior. Hard-liners argued that such boys should have been publicly tortured and executed as a clear reminder to women that bringing male pregnancies to term without permission would lead to nothing but misery. They accused the Central Committee of waffling on the principles of Dworkinism. They felt that these veins in the society of sympathy for males needed to be rooted out and crushed completely. No woman involved received less than a 5-year prison term. Any who had fired upon their sisters in the militia received life terms without parole. The press suggested that similar problems on a much smaller scale had been handled quietly without publicity for years, but the magnitude of this operation meant its existence could not be suppressed. Was this not exactly what Amy had predicted and feared a decade earlier? The adults in Amy's band complimented her once more. The band judged that they should be relatively safe since they were still far from any major approved settlements, their band was quite small, and there were of course no rapes going on. They did try to think of mechanisms they could devise that might totally rule out that possibility of rape when their boys got older. As a fallback strategy, Tara suggested that they build a large jail, and if any investigators were expected, they could lock up all the males until the crisis was over. She was reminded that the law forbade raising more than 5% male children under any circumstances. --------------------------------------------------------- It was a large room, with three double beds. A dozen strategically positioned candles gave a soft light. In the room were six naked people. Five had breasts and notable hips of varying sizes, but they were all of one basic pattern. Nothing was visible between their legs except a thatch of hair. The sixth looked quite different. This person was much taller, with a bushy growth of hair on cheeks, throat and upper lips, as well as some on the chest. Between the legs, this person had a thatch of hair but clearly visible organs. A fleshy tube stuck out from his body, six inches long. As it rose from his body, it revealed a sac with with two roughly spherical lumps. It was Bill: the male, the man. "This man is Bill, my husband," said Alison. "He produces semen, the stuff of life, and he is the only one among us who does. You all have been offered the right to receive his semen in a small container to try to induce pregnancy when you wish. Correct?" The others all nodded their assent. "Yet you have also all indicated that you would instead prefer this man Bill to personally penetrate your bodies with his penis: to puncture you, to thrust rudely into the depths of your vagina and spew his semen into your innards. Correct?" The others all nodded. "And you have agreed that my price for allowing and ordering Bill to accommodate you in this fashion is to allow him to perform on you this same act of violence and domination and humiliation..." The four women all smiled, and Molly covered her mouth to avoid laughing out loud. "... whenever I command him to." The others all nodded once more. "Who here today wishes to become pregnant?" Nancy raised her hand timidly and curtseyed. "Bill, lie down on your back..." When he did, she muttered, "I've got to take the edge off," and she proceeded to impale herself on his hard cock. "See? He's mine!" said Alison. She proceeded to hump up and down. "And he feels *so* good up there," she said about thirty seconds later, then concentrated and shut her eyes and shuddered. She collected herself and pulled off. After collecting herself for half a minute, she said, "Bill, take a sample and see if you think Nancy is in season." Bill went over to Nancy, who lifted her right knee with her right hand and steadied herself on Bill's shoulders with her left. He slid his finger to the center of her hairy spot and pressed inward, taking a swab of fluid. He raised it to his nose and sniffed. He smiled enthusiastically at Alison. Alison's next command was not to Nancy. "Very well. Amy, hands and knees!", she said, motioning her over to one of the beds. When Amy had complied, she said, "Bill, fuck her deep." As Bill moved up behind her, Alison leaned over to look intently at Amy's face. Bill aimed, nuzzled his tip into her opening, and gave a mighty shove into the first vagina he'd ever been in. It felt great, her pussy taking him all the way in, squeezing firmly. He couldn't see Amy's face, but he imagined it showed pleasure. Alison seemed pleased by whatever she saw. "Enough," said Alison, and he withdrew. "Tara, present!" she ordered, and the procedure was repeated. Bill could easily tell all five pussies apart with a mere stroke. Tara's was a bit warmer than the others, but not so deep -- he always felt his tip nuzzling and bumping against the end wall of her vagina. "Molly, bitch time!" ordered the alpha female, and Bill relished in plunging his prong into the long, tight channel. He gave several strokes, but stopped when he felt himself starting down the path to orgasm. "OK, Nancy, lady's choice," said Alison, and Nancy chose the receptive missionary position. Bill mounted and slid into the slightly rough, slick vagina of a fertile woman. When he had achieved his depth, he began a vigorous fuck. The others all gathered around, fingers between their legs, rubbing or pressing or fluttering. "Go for it, Bill," muttered Amy. "Yeah, do her good," added Alison. "Shoot it out deep," said Tara. "Lots and lots of it," said Molly. Bill looked around at the approving collection of femininity, at all the pussies he had just invaded, and then down at the woman who wanted to get pregnant. He was the only one who could manage this, and Alison left the tactics of the final assault up to him. And an assault it was, diving in and out fast, hard and deep. But Nancy apparently enjoyed this sort of violation, for within a minute she gasped and bucked upwards as her orgasm struck. Bill kept pounding, pleasure building, penis bulging, primal urgency overpowering him. Ecstasy hit, and he kept pounding in and out as his cock spewed his seed right at her fertile spot, then mucked it all around the area with his continuing thrusts. When he was done spurting and dribbling, he pulled out. "Good job," "Way to go," "I'll be up in a couple weeks,"... said the others, as they put on their minimal clothing and filed out. Nancy got up to leave too, and that left Bill and Alison. They lay together, talking and cuddling for an hour. --------------------------------------------------------- Alison didn't have to command Bill to fuck any of the others. She left it to his discretion. Her only rule was that for every time he made love to one of them, he had to do the same to her too -- or at least offer, as her interest waned considerably late in pregnancy and for three months or so after birth. All of the women had healthy sexual appetites most of the time. They knew they had to share, so their arrangement with Bill was that they were willing any time he had time and interest. He tried to get to every pussy at least once a week. The math and the rules required him to do Alison a half dozen times each week as well -- which he was delighted to do. --------------------------------------------------------- Thomas was 24 years old. There were 53 children, including Addie's two by way of her husband Isaac. The community was known by the rather unusual name of "Amy's Vision". Meanwhile, power had shifted in the Central Committee. The younger generation had finally taken control. The edict had just gone out: communities could vote to stop forced abortions. Almost all did. The population would over time return to nature's intended ratio of one male to one female. The Central Committee enjoyed a surge of goodwill from this single change. But they had a problem, and they knew it: How could they transform their society to accommodate a rising tide of boys? How could they do this without reintroducing the patriarchy? Some thought all would be well since they started out from a just society uncontaminated by male influence. Others thought it would require eternal vigilance. There were more immediate concerns. How should they deal with the existing males who had lived as slaves all their lives, some of them notably bitter and angry over their treatment? Who would serve as role models for the tide of boys as they grew up? How should they deal with the pent up demand of women for male sex partners? Illegal settlements whose younger generation was predominantly male still existed, but the young men had been raised without Dworkinian values. Some had clearly reinvented the values of the patriarchy, sometimes in virulent form. One of the last actions of the old guard had been extensive military campaigns to wipe out many such communities, but they had missed many more groups than they had found. The Central Committee was negotiating partial amnesties for such groups. One enticing prospect was the availability of many women as sex partners if they demonstrated their willingness to rid themselves of patriarchal values. Some items remained nonnegotiable. It was agreed that men would be forbidden from joining the military or police and from owning firearms. They would not be allowed to vote. One of the most subtle matters involved how men and women should relate to each other. Reform-minded activists scoured the countryside and found a dozen places in North America where men and women lived together. In some, male dominance had re-emerged, and others were clearly dysfunctional in other ways. Amy's Vision was the best example they could find of a community that both worked well in practice and showed reasonable equality between the sexes. As a result, a small army of women descended to study them. All residents were interviewed in great depth. Documentaries were made. They participated in the development of curriculum plans for instructors on how to set up successful communities following similar principles. Over the years they watched video of how boys behaved and how they were treated and offered their frank assessments. --------------------------------------------------------- Bill and Alison lay in each other's arms, drifting off to sleep. They had just that evening seen video of some 8-year-old boys and girls interacting that struck Bill as optimistic. "It's weird to think I'm the role model for the entire male gender of a nation." "You're a great role model." "Not all men are going to want to pledge to obey their wives." "Yeah, they know that. It's just a good transitional stage, a good way to make it more palatable to the women with hard-line sympathies." "Amy says that whole thing about not being in the military and not voting is just temporary, too. Society will change once half the adults are men again." "She may be right. She even thinks things will go back to the old ways, or maybe even worse, if men decide they want payback. I sure hope she's wrong." "Me too." They lay silent a while before Bill continued. "I was so close to being snuffed out by Washington Lake if nobody bought me. If Amy had gotten a cramp in her arm or something and not bid on me, I'd have been dead within a few days at most. And then if you hadn't risked your life to get me out of Rachel's clutches --" "If I hadn't done that -- if I hadn't at least tried -- I couldn't have lived with myself. And if I hadn't had the courage to get to know you and become your lover in the first place, I don't know what would have happened. I would have trudged through life, had some halfhearted partnership with some woman, probably, had a few daughters, aborted a few sons." "I guess I never had any big decisions to make, really. It was all pretty obvious for me. I was in danger, but I didn't have any control." "You could have stayed silent with Rachel and let her starve you to death with dignity." "What dignity?" Alison thought a moment. "I guess that's often the way it is when one gender is in charge. Way back in history, women pretty much went along for the ride. A fair number of them were happy -- about as many as men, I'd guess -- but the men made all the decisions." "Hmmmm. Makes sense. So maybe for a while at least we'll have a society where the women are more in charge than the men, but it's still pretty much equal?" "Could be. Amy would probably know best." "Yeah, she probably would." Alison's hand rested lightly on Bill's cock and then began stroking it softly. It did its natural thing. Bill looked at her questioningly. "One more baby. I'd like one more baby. You willing to try?" "Of course, my dear, if that is what you command." They grinned at each other. In less than a minute of Bill's expert finger work, Alison was ready. She lay back, spread her legs, and lifted her arms in surrender. Bill mounted, glided in, and began a gentle rowing motion. Alison smiled and Bill smiled back. All was well. ============================================================ What did you think? I'm always eager for comments, whether positive, negative or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com.