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!


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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.

============================================================

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