The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth free porn video

THE MEEK SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH ? by: Way Zim What Came Before: In the early years of both a new century, and new millennium, the people of Earth discovered they were not alone. Planetbound observers spotted what they thought to be a rogue asteroid entering the Solar System near to Jupiter orbit, an assumption soon enough disproved as the object made a series of deliberate corrections to it's already eccentric trajectory. And as both the global scientific community and the military began to speculate about intelligent control, a strong signal from the strange visitor broke into the Earth's communications net with an image and a message! When a challenge was issued by the Norwin, a warrior race whose leader, Jondar, resembled nothing less than the Norsemen of old, Earth had to respond by sending an aggressively masculine team of emissaries to negotiate a possible treaty with this paternally dominated race. But once the two cultures met, things went terribly wrong. The miscalculation of size between the colossal Norwins and the much smaller Earthmen, the Test of Prowess which consisted of a simple wrestling match, The transformation of the losing Earth representative under a process known as The Change to a more pleasing shape... His authority lost, along with his outer male form, Colonel Aaron Christopher soon found him/herself rebuked by Friend and Foe alike, stripped of rank and respect as his second, Kamal Bashir, instigated a series of humiliations, which culminated in the former leader's submission to her crew's carnal desires! Back on Earth, the news of The Change, as well as the Imminent Invasion by Jondars' race, was ineptly kept under absolute secrecy by General Warren and his aide, Captain Trish Stevenson. But a curious reporter pricked the conscience of the Captain, now the reluctant guardian of the feminized Colonel Christopher, resulting in a blow up of global proportions, only a few days before the Norwin were expected to arrive. But even the socio-political firestorm which swept across the planet was soon dwarfed by the Invasion itself. The Norwin first crippled the tech dependent military with a sophisticated EMP weapon and then spread The Change before them like some hideous gaseous pink carpet! American President Thomas Bradley proved his ineptitude as the Invasion rapidly changed the conquered Nations men into simpering fem-males, neutered and outwardly altered to better serve their lecherous alien masters. But with a disastrous plan of placation in the works, General Warren made a deal with the devil, the Machiavellian Mistress of the White House, First Lady Madeline Bradley, hoping to save the remaining males before the final Norwin solution of sexy sterilization was completed! But as both the General and the President fell in dramatically different ways, before a rock and a hard place, Captain Stevenson discovered the beginnings of a plot by Madeline to both save the Nation and serve her own corrupt ambitions. As Washington DC was brought down before the Norwin advance, the First Lady and newly promoted Colonel Stevenson ordered the fallback of the survivors to sanctuaries from where they hoped eventually to throw the Norwin off the planet for good! Occupation; She stood at the edge of the ridge, staring through her field glasses at the Norwin occupied town from the heights of some three thousand feet. While the rocky overhang provided some cover from the tiny crescent patrol ships, single man craft much smaller than the great horned mother ship or the flat iron bottomed Dusters, still the human pulled back each time a shadow flitted past her dubious hiding place. Colonel Stevenson had been watching the Kentucky town almost every free moment since the enemy had taken it some four months ago. She was simultaneously amused and embarrassed that Madeline had chosen for their sanctuary the one place, which would become a hot spot for Norwin activity only a week after the human colony had moved into their new home! But for the time being the four to five families, mostly civilian White House Staffers, some with already feminized men in tow, were safe from the prying eyes of the scouts living within this old system of mines, which honeycombed the rocky ridge behind her. The shelter had been hastily enlarged by the army engineers, filled with an ample cache of supplies, enough to last for some time if supplemented with periodic raids of the valley below. Of course the circumstances under which volunteers would readily scavenge for these necessities had not included sneaking through a major Norwin presence. Trish sighed heavily, her early morning vigil finished as the danger of discovery by the enemy increased with the rising sun. Besides, she didn't like to leave Aaron alone too long with Madeline and her playmate/puppet, the late President Tommie Bradley. Pushing through the dense undergrowth, the soldier cautiously made her ascent toward the hidden entrance to the caves, some two hundred feet up the steep shale cluttered animal track. While the cover from trees and other flora had been excellent, still she was suspicious of the ease with which the colony had evaded discovery thus far. From her observations, once the crisis of The Change was over, most of the fem- males were taken indoors, likely given over to individual masters or thrust into collective brothels for general use by the Norwin males. The few, which she'd seen out, were under the control of the Norwin females. The alien women were an enigma for the puzzle solver. Demure and submissive before their males, the manner with which they treated the belled Earthmen was anything but gentle. Many times, Trish saw the fem-males felled by a firm shove or cowered by a cuff from their massive mistresses. What was it that kept the Norwin women so blatantly dominated by their males but capable of such open aggression toward the castrated captives? As Trish spotted the large flat rock a few yards from the camp, she considered the only real option open to her. If the humans were to find out anything useful about their conquerors, they would have to send a spy into the town. "Halt and Identify yourself. " a hushed youthful voice declared with such authority it made the Colonel grin. "Trish Stevenson. " she answered at once, pleased to see the sentry who emerged from the brush to the left of the stony tabletop. "Trish! " the girlish exclamation came from a sweet sixteen military brat, Diane Turner. The young woman, her enviously athletic physique shown off by the tan shorts and matching light shirt, gave her mentor a warm embrace, the moment somewhat awkward with the small machine pistol getting in the way. Diane, her fresh face beneath a short auburn pageboy still holding to freckles, had been a late addition to the Tyner Colony, she and her feminized father the only surviving family since her mother's death many years before. Major James Turner had not even been called to battle when The Change unexpectedly swept over their home in Waynesboro, Virginia. His daughter pulled her still changing parent into their SUV before the second sweep by the Norwin Duster. Somehow they managed to find their way to a small airfield near Monticello where she finagled a ride for them aboard an army helicopter headed West. Raised within the structured environment of the military, she naturally found in Trish a comforting presence while the Colonel responded easily to the shy adoration from this fiercely intelligent girl. "Colonel Stevenson, you mean," the officer laughingly chided the teenager, resting for a second on the table rock. "How's sentry duty going?" "Pretty quiet... ma'am," Diane remarked with such a mild tone of annoyed relief that her surrogate parent raised a curious brow. "Mistress Madeline's holding court, as usual. And Joey's been chasing after Aaron, again...," she confessed, waiting for the storm clouds to appear. Where Diane had been a godsend of Discipline and Cooperation to the colony, her masculine antithesis, Joey Fields, a gangly walking hormone of a teenage boy, was the bane of Trish's existence. He was the son of a press secretary, weasel-like in face and disposition, but coddled by Madeline's notion of keeping the true males healthy and happy. This opinion, lead to the first open fracture within the human hive, a fierce disagreement between the Queen and her Warrior Chief... "Then I'd better do damage control then," Trish sighed, her fingers lightly touching the young woman's shoulder. "Joyce'll spell you in about fifteen minutes, OK? " Diane nodded gratefully with such a sweet smile that the Colonel felt a soft motherly ache. But such moments of sympathy were fleeting, the flow of good feelings vanishing at once as Trish entered the caves... The short narrow tunnel, well hid behind strategically arranged brush, lead into a common area of sorts, large and roomy, which held the simple creature comforts allowed the forty odd survivors. While no electronics, apart from the communications gear to link them with other colonies, was allowed, nothing to help the Norwin locate their sanctuary, they had an extensive library as well as games for the kids present. All of it was needed to keep them entertained during the far too frequent downtime. Three tunnels off the communal chamber each lead to Housing, Storage, and a modest armory, which gave only dubious comfort for those who'd seen the aliens at work. And what passed for quarters, from tiny rough hewn rooms barely large enough for two people, to slightly larger family caves, consisted of hollowed out rock with a thin curtain across the entrance for privacy. Trish frowned slightly as she saw the meeting was over, wondering what new game Madeline was playing today. But her mood lightened somewhat when she spied the firm but almost spindly frame of Joyce Wallace coming toward her. Along with young Diane, the elderly schedule coordinator for many of the Pentagon heads was the Colonel's strongest ally, a welcome combination of sanity and experience in a deceptively frail fifty eight year old body. For all her years in Washington, Joyce knew where the rightful power lay in the Tyner Colony, even if the lemming like majority didn't. "You think you could relieve Diane right now? " asked Trish quietly, even as the gentle woman gave her a comforting wink from behind bifocal lens. "She's been spending too much time on duty." "Not unlike some other young lady I could mention," Joyce chuckled dryly. "I'd like ta scold you for putting yourself at risk so much. You're the only one in this cave who'll get us through the Occupation in one piece..." "If we can figure out just what the Norwin are up to, aside from the obvious...," complained the officer lightly, catching an odd look from her friend. "What is it?" "Oh, just one of a couple things which Madeline brought up today. She thinks we should send some spies into town on recon," Joyce remarked with a cautious tone. "Did she?" Colonel Stevenson responded, once more caught off guard by the First Lady's devious mind. "What was the other thing?" "You know what that is," the elder woman answered with an exasperated huff. 'The fem-males," Trish nodded, her concerns brought to the foreground. "Where's Aaron?" Joyce turned her head toward the central tunnel. "It's only been a minute...," she began, but the officer was already gone. The grunting sounds from within their quarters confirmed her worst fears, a low feminine sob galvanizing the soldier to immediate action as she pulled back the curtain. Within the few minutes that Joyce had seen them disappear down the tunnel, Joey Fields had already pushed the weeping Aaron face down on the army cot, his pants around his skinny legs as the bully pressed hard against the fem-male's ass. Trish had this absurd image of a mongrel dog stuck to a show bitch, but only for a second before anger took hold of the woman. "You sorry little shit!" she screamed. The rape turned surreal, the awkward struggles of the boy to free his engorged member, his conquest crying loudly while this crazed and well armed woman grabbed his shoulders... Trish succeeded in separating them without hurting her charge, Joey losing his erection enough for Colonel Stevenson to pull him away. But he found only a momentary support before she threw the teen through the flimsy barrier where he hit hard the rough floor. But she was only just starting, her boot catching the little molester squarely in his exposed ass as Joey tried to simultaneously pull up his drawers and himself with one motion. As she kicked him, his pasty face slammed into the stone foundation and the brutal boy began to cry for mercy from the still advancing soldier. "Colonel Stevenson! Stop!" demanded a voice from the common room, even as Trish debated whether to simply beat the kid to death, or put a couple bullet in his heads. She saw Madeline standing there wearing a no nonsense look, challenging the other woman to continue her retribution upon the bruised and soiled brat. "You've done enough, for now," the defacto dictator added with a soft smile. Joeys' parents were already hustling their son away, not without some choice looks toward the officer who lightly fingered her pistol in its holster. Madeline, the conciliator purposely stepped between Trish and her moving target. "Take care of Aaron," pressed the First Lady in faux sympathy. "Then I need to talk to you." Her rage was slightly diminished by the mention of the girl, the sounds of fear and pain lessened to a few sniffles. Twice in one day, Madeline had pushed the right buttons in her military counterpart, Trish nodding absently as she turned to tend to the trembling half-naked fem-male. "I don't what's happened to mem," whimpered Aaron piteously, the very image of betrayed beauty, even with her face tear streaked and unmade. "The Norwin fucked me, My own men fucked me, but this boy..." "It wasn't your fault," her guardian insisted, but in the back of her mind she remembered how out of control General Warren had been, back aboard the Ares. "That's the joke, you see," the petite fem-male remarked with pained irony. "I taught boys like that how to be men. Taught them to be tough, self sufficient and superior. Now it comes back on me, and all I could do was let him mount me..." She fell back to sobbing uncontrollably and all Trish could do was hold Aaron tight. She was wondering on the other casualties of this odd war against such an irresistible force as The Change. *** While across the ravaged planet, scattered groups of free humans struggled to find any kind of weapon to use against his conquering hordes, Jondar sat brooding in Las Vegas, pondering over the sluggish progress of his troops as one of his Lieutenants brought him the latest reports from the field. He wore his crown upon a troubled brow, ruler of half a world being no true ruler at all. The great desert expanse had been easily conquered, with the exception of that one tiny nation near to the inland sea. It had proved itself stubborn, launching a useless missile attack against the great ark as the Norwin ship settled into Earth orbit. As the Invasion began in earnest, The Change sweeping unchecked across the few pockets of plenty in this sun-blistered land, the meager forces sent against the invaders fought on till the mind altering affects of the Norwin weapon weakened their will to continue the struggle. But before the Norwin could complete the conversion process, this obstinate little Nation did something unthinkable, sending its women to war against Jondars' ground units! So taken back by this affront to the proper order of civilized worlds, the feint succeeded in holding the advancing alien army just long enough for the remaining Earth males to vanish from sight, gone to hiding places where Jondar and his males could not easily find them. This troublesome opening foray to the eventual conquest of Earth signaled a pattern of resistance in the westward swing of the Norwin military, the rough terrain effectively keeping The Change from reaching every crevasse and cavern. These natural obstacles to an even dispersal of the gaseous weapon finally forced his commanders to bypass several trouble spots to keep the army moving ever forward. Jondar found his own eastward advance far easier, most of the Great desert falling before him as true Earth females, draped in those oddly concealing dark clothes, eagerly turned their males over to the enemies, many offering to serve as Keepers in the Norwin brothels. But his greatest triumph came later when they moved to lusher pastures, finding new people of lighter complexion and strange eyes. These aggressive males fought well enough, even with their missiles disarmed and the planes felled from the sky with the Norwin's EMP weapon. And when the ruling body of elders, were converted, Jondar discovered some interesting things about these Earth people. First was the amazing variety of pleasures to be had, even among the most repressed of the Chattel. Jondar was astonished by the specifics of their sexual offerings, some even suggested by the converted in their eagerness to please the Norwin masters. Second, in contrast to their ardent embracing of the carnal, the altered males showed great shame before their betters, red-faced and timid in their posturing. This combination of extreme vice and fallen virtue allowed the warlord to find the specific symbols within each conquered nation to best subjugate its people. Finally, he found that with the communications net, a sophisticated interweave of variable wavebands which encircled this lush world, the as yet unaffected lands observed the downfall of their neighbors as Entertainment! With this knowledge, Jondar began a propaganda campaign of televised images, which began with the parade of transformed elders, comely matrons in shimmering rainbow silk who knelt before the exposed members of the Norwin conquerors, and concluded with the all too easy coupling of Jondar himself with the already weakling leader of the Ameercas! These Ameercas! So prosperous a territory with a lazy populace who turned unexpectedly fierce when their lord was turned into Chattel, but rather than engaging the impenetrable alien armada with a frontal assault that would surely fail, several cities in the path of the advancing force sacrificed themselves to The Change. This action bought time for others to successfully evacuate most of their males to sanctuaries well hid from the Norwin scout ships. "You sure these figure's are correct for this province?" Jondar barked at the message bearer, a fair haired youth who fidgeted nervously from his lords' annoyance. "Who's in command of converting this Can Tuckee?" "You don't know, sire?" exclaimed the boy, true surprise evident in his face. "Your own aide, Gendal. You gave him the commission yourself, sire...," his meek voice fell to silence at the storm gathering in the rulers' fierce eyes. "Go to Gendal," Jondar told the scribe after a fearful pause. "Tell him that I'll come to see his progress, or lack thereof, within a few days." "At once! Sire!" exclaimed the youngster, more than ready to escape the potent wrath of Jondar, bowing briskly before making a hasty retreat to do his master's will. And as the door closed, leaving the Norwin warlord in relative quiet, he rose from his chair, striding across the gaudy gilded suite in this towering Earth built pleasure palace to the great window which overlooked his decadent domain. This Vegas had been a prize, an already erected Xanadu for the Norwin males. The games of chance within the glass and stony monuments to Pleasure, the costumes and other adornments to best display the attributes of the Chattel, so easily conquered as many players refused to leave the tables even as The Change took them. But such pleasures were empty gifts for Jondar, his concerns about his chosen heir overriding the urges of his baser desires. Gendal, an almost beautiful boy, fair haired and quick minded, had shown such promise. He stood at Jondars right hand during the war councils, learning what he must if he would someday lead. The Norwin chief reflected upon that first meeting with the Earthers, wondering if that was where the trouble started. Gendal had obviously been very curious about these tiny people, and if rumors were correct, too soon after the victory in the Great Desert, there was talk that Gendal had taken a fem-male as consort... "Soon enough," he mused ruefully to himself, his thick fingers idly stroking the heavy red-orange beard. "I will find out just what Gendal is up to in this Can Tuckee..." *** She lay nestled against his broad back, this tiny dusky beauty who'd come to Gendal like a sweet mirage out of the Change cleansed desert. And oh how she'd fought, tooth and nail holding to anger long after the others had been calmed within their altered bodies. How long had it been since Gendal chose this Chattel, alone among the converted, to take with him as Jondar's main force pushed onward to the East? Long enough that he knew the others spoke often of his solitary devotion to the dark female who awoke such strange emotions within him. But even the rumormongers didn't know how Gendal bonded with this girl, how he confided his most hidden dreams to her. How, on the times when she willing submitted to his advances, Gendal hoped that he might someday release that fiery spirit suppressed inside this desert fem- male. "Gendal," her soft voice, slightly muffled by those silky lips caressing his shoulders, arousing the youth so as he slowly turned to face her. "Kamal," he whispered back, frowning slightly at the deep concern which wrinkled that lovely exotic face. "Jondar's coming," she remarked bluntly and he nodded before kissing her childlike face tenderly. "Yes," he answered simply, a light hand hoping to smooth out the worry lines with a touch. "Do you think he knows? About us? " "Only hearsay," Gendal answered with false confidence. "He's more concerned about the delay in converting the whole of Kentucky. Your people have hid themselves quite well." "My people...," she murmured with dull regret, even as Kamal felt him press his member against her. "I wonder if I can call them 'My People ' anymore. Am I still worthy?" "You're worthy of that, and much more. " her master and her love scolded fondly, wiping away bitter tears as he gently entered the fem- male. "And as for the rest, let your worries come to me." Darkness and Divinations; "We're at a critical moment of decision, you know that," the austere auburn haired leader of the free world told Trish with such solemnity, the Colonel almost spoiled the moment by laughing in Madeline's face. They walked together amidst the long shadows of the early evening, the Norwin patrols quiet for the moment, while Aaron and Tommie followed at a discreet distance behind the two true females. For all her speeches, the woman warrior wondered if the First Lady had ever seriously thought on a counteroffensive against the Norwins in all this time. "And you've come up with some ideas, I understand," remarked the soldier with such an obvious undertone of irony that her companion briefly flashed a cool angry look toward Trish before regaining her composure. "For all your observations, Colonel," Madeline countered with a haughty arrogance. "You've seen nothing to give us even the slightest hint at possible weaknesses within the Norwin society?" "Nothing yet," admitted the Colonel, sparing a glance back toward the two fem-males, each a contrast of the other in demeanor and dress. Aaron, while demure in her bearing, still held to a core of confidence, which Trish had worked so hard to revive. Those soft hazel eyes gazed out from beneath the lovely sandy blonde tangle with a strong intelligence sadly lacking in her fellow fem-male. Tommie was the direct opposite to the converted former Colonel, chatty and bright in conversation, but quick to bow to Madeline's overwhelming presence. The petite raven-haired fem-male also tended toward forced fashions of an openly provocative nature, the tan bikini style halter and tight shorts a dramatic contrast to Aaron's light green blouse and trousers. With her husband's overt wardrobe choice for her Change induced girlish figure, Madeline seemed to make of Tommie an example for the rest of the seven fem-males within Tyner Colony, a poster girl of total servitude by which the First Lady hoped to bring the settlement's true men to her corner. But while Madeline had never told Trish the specifics of her plans for the faux females, the Colonel understood from Diane and Joyce they were to be nothing less than sexual surrogates to keep the males busy while the real women carried on the business of survival. "And what of word from the other colonies?" pressed the didactic dictator of her military counterpart. "Given the infrequency of the broadcasts, short and on a variable band to keep the enemy from getting a fix on our location, little more than what I've discovered during my own observations," Trish answered brusquely. "But several groups are still coordinating the building of remote towers on ridges some distance from the source of transmission. Once that's in place..." "The Norwin will likely have converted even more of our men to The Change by then," Madeline chided her angrily. "We need to get some hard information, as quickly as possible, to better formulate strategy. And that means..." "Spies," sighed the Colonel heavily, seeing the trap which the other had set for her, a snare using the soldier's own good intentions against her... "Or a single spy already trained in reconnaissance and information retrieval. You have someone particular in mind, Madeline?" "I want to call another meeting for tomorrow afternoon," she told the soldier, an expression of supreme confidence in those cool eyes. "Will you let me know your answer before then?" She knew that this ambitious woman was using the truth against her. That if it came down to a vote, Trish might win the colony through deeds over words. But the running clock allowed little room for debate, no time left for the Colonel to quietly assemble the resources she needed for a full-scale military retaliation against the alien oppressors. "I'll let you know by morning, Madeline," she responded, feeling almost as helpless as Aaron when he'd meet his fate aboard the Norwin ark. *** "I have just one question for you, Trish," asked Joyce with a matronly annoyance which made the young officer smile. "Are you friggin insane?" "Perhaps," confessed Colonel Stevenson as she, Diane and Joyce, as well as James and Aaron, all sat in a little used section of tunnel, far away from prying ears. "But Madeline's right, for once. It's beyond time for this..." "...Trap!" the teenager exclaimed, upset that her mentor was even considering going into Town alone. "Madeline just wants you out of the way, so she can do what she wishes with Daddy and the rest! You know she does!" "I do know it," laughed Trish bitterly. "But I'm also thinkin of the Greater Good here, not this little pissing contest between Madame Machiavelli and myself. We need to send someone among them, specifically a women in disguise as a fem-male..." "Ah Hell, I'll go," Joyce interjected suddenly, her alert eyes sparkling with a mischievous humor. "It's not like I'm doing anything else important right now." "But you do have an assignment," countered the Colonel softly, her strong slender fingers reaching out to touch the elder's hand lovingly. "I need you to keep the colony from falling apart in my absence. Madeline still underestimates your influence over the others so I could sure use your help. Please?" As Joyce muttered a soft acquiescence followed by a mild curse, idly swiping at suddenly damp eyes, Diane coughed slightly. "Uh, I have a suggestion? As to who could go?" "Not you!" both Trish and Joyce forcefully countered at once. Diane shook her head slowly, sparing a glance toward her father and Aaron. "We could maybe use a fem-male instead?" At her soft but sly proposition, the youngster was taken back as Trish impulsively took her soft face between strong fingers and pressed a kiss upon her forehead. "You're brilliant and beautiful!" gushed the officer. "But it wouldn't work. " "Why not? Both Dad and Aaron are trained officers. They could still spy..." "Because The Change killed their ability to stand up under direct intimidation by any strong authority, Norwin or Human," countered Trish quickly, touched by her friends concerns. "But I do need their help. Help in understanding what it is to be a fem-male..." *** Kamal found herself alone, as Gendal left to prepare for Jondars' arrival. Even after four months, trapped in this weak feminine shell, concubine to the provincial governor of Kentucky, the Syrian siren kept returning to that Change shrouded desert where the hero became Houris in what seemed to be endless contrition to Allah for his/her sins. What tears she cried were inside and invisible, The Change induced weakness coming from a different source than with the others of her kind. Of her kind... Kamal knew as she was turned over to the enemy by those whorish betrayers of Humanity that she would need a protector. Even as she'd fought tooth and nail against the fear which threatened to destroy what little masculinity was left inside this false flesh, the former macho commander watched the Norwins closely, observed their deferential manner toward the blond youth. She used what gifts of seduction had been taught her second hand by all the women in her long lusty life, used them to secure a place of comfort and confidence, to better fight the soft changes that usurped her once sharp male mind. But even as Gendal took her, Kamal wonder who was seducing who... She'd understood where Aaron had failed, even admitting her own complicity in the downfall of her friend ... Allah forgive her. Strength was not a wall against adversity it was a fluid action. You bowed before Fate when need be, as the Yanks would say 'Go With The Flow.' She just hoped that she didn't lose herself in the process. *** Diane couldn't stop from staring at the very different Trish who stood in self-conscious splendor before the tall narrow mirror. With the pleasure chest of goodies contributed by the domineering First Lady, Colonel Stevenson found herself stripped of more than surface authority under the tutelage of her former charge, Aaron Christopher. The colony as a whole aptly reflected the mixed reaction to Madeline's gleeful announcement that the willful woman warrior was to spy out the land, disguised as a fem-male. The few who stood solidly in Trish's corner understood its necessity, while both the fence-sitters and those happily gathered beneath Madeline's decadent banner waited with eager anticipation to see how far down the Colonel would fall... One bruised and belligerent boy also waited, with sly encouragement from the darkly ambitious ruler, to use Trish's vulnerability for his own purposes ... "Where did I go?" wondered the officer aloud, blushing at the muscular but still quite feminine body, exposed for the world to see. Her usually unmade face was painted boldly with rouge stained cheeks and a deep scarlet gloss on her once thin lips. Those bright eyes seemed invisible beneath the insanely long lashes, which Madeline had insisted upon. If clothes made the woman, the saucy salmon pink mini corset, all ruffles with spaghetti straps, effectively unmade the soldier. To her further debasement, the outfit was fleshed out with a pair of skimpy satin hot pants, sealed up on one side with a velcro strip. "Oh, Trish," the teenager whispered in sympathy, the older woman recovering from the shock enough to embrace her disciple. "It's going to be alright," she told the trembling girl firmly. "Not after Madeline forces you to parade before the colony, it won't," Diane responded angrily. "She'll force you to submit, in the worst way she can think of ..." "And that'll be the test, for you as well as me," Colonel Stevenson replied, lightly stroking the other's fiery tresses. "But you remember what I told you. About what's expected from both of us..." "While you're gone, I'm to continue working on the tower while Joyce takes care of the colony," Diane recited, little comforted by the image of her mentor, nearly naked before her. "But ..." "No buts," Trish insisted, even as she heard Madeline calling to them. "You do your job, as I know you will. This is tough on all of us, but we do what we must to survive." *** It was a display of power, as she found the whole of Tyner Colony waiting as the officer entered the common room, looking decidedly less authoritative in her sexy costume. But the power was handed to Madeline, for now, as she openly challenged Trish to see if she was ready to face the task ahead. "You look so sweet, my dear," those fiercely covetous eyes ogled the exposed curves of her rival, smiling with gentle disdain, as she would her own feminized spouse. "But you still carry yourself like a warrior. Loosen up your walk and wriggle over here." Trish couldn't look toward Aaron, the girl red faced with the shame she knew her protector must be feeling but couldn't show. She felt the fool, allowing her hips to swing a bit, her eyes turned down slightly as Colonel Stevenson moved toward Madeline. "How can you hope to fool the Norwin?" demanded the First Lady with such venom that even her supporters let a collective gasp slip, but still the underdressed officer did nothing. "How do you hope to convince them you're a weak little fem-male, unless you can make us believe? On your knees, girl!" There were no half measures here, no way to get out with any semblance of pride. But Trish recited her silent mantra to block the emerging terror at her loss of identity. "I've been trained for moments like this," she scolded herself, a second before a severe cuff to the face knocked the spy to the rough floor. She first thought that the Dom dictator was playing rough, but as Trish prostrated herself before Madeline, the scantily clothed Colonel discovered that her adversary had brought a helper to bring Trish down. The hand which had dealt the humbling blow belonged to Joey Fields! "What do you think you're doing, Madeline?" Joyce interrupted, her aged expression reflected outrage at this perversion disguised as play- acting. "Joyce," the subdued whisper from the fallen officer further fueled both Joyce's and Diane's anger, even as Trish sought to quell their fierce defense of her. "Stand down ..." Another blow from the teen abuser, his hostile glare a mix of triumph and lust. "You don't know your place yet," Joey scolded, even as he took hold of her head. Trish found herself eye level with his crotch, discovering to her dismay that his button fly was undone, Joey's stiff member jutting out for all to see. "Tell them you like what you see," he ordered harshly. How long she knelt in indecision was brief, but for Colonel Stevenson it was forever as she considered taking back her control and castrating the boy right there and then. But unless she sent another in her place, the suffering which she experienced now would be visited a hundred-fold upon the whole of Humanity.... "I like what I see," she muttered. "You tell them," he held her face now, otherwise weak finger pressing against her cheeks to force open those scarlet lips. "You tell them you beat me because you wanted my cock for yourself. You tell them that!" "I anted ur qawk," Trish answered oddly, even as her master pressed his head forward, forcing her to take it all in. She could taste him as Joey released, the flood running down her throat. The cowered Colonel hoped that this would satisfy, her humiliation enough for the boy as his manhood pulled out from her mouth with a loud pop. But if her audience was stunned by Trish's swift sexual subjugation, even her enemies were horrified by what Joey did next! It happened in a matter of seconds as the young thug turned Trish round, his hands at her waist before moving down to tug hard at her hot pants! The sound of tearing velcro alerted the audience to his intent too late as Joey thrust hard against Trish's exposed ass, the extreme pain from his entry making Trish scream in spite of herself! But before Joey could further his intended rape of this hated woman, the cold metal muzzle of a handgun pressed hard against the back of his head, Diane's harsh voice in his right ear. "You stop this! Now! You sick little shit!" "Ms Turner," Madeline's attempt at intervention fell upon deaf ears as the outraged young woman began to pull back on the trigger. "Your brains, or whatever passes for brains, splattered all over the cave! What do you think about that, asshole!?" Diane asked, the audible click from a chambered bullet accenting her intent. He withdrew quickly, Trish falling as Joyce rushed forward to catch her, only to have Diane strike him hard with the pistol across his face, the sound of his nose breaking reverberating like a gunshot throughout the cave. Justice ill-served by the sight of the boy knocked out cold, but Diane was more concerned with her mentor, silently trembling with the rage she dare not show. Trish was bleeding slightly as Joyce tended to her, but the elder woman took time to flash the hostile girl a look of caution. She could see the gun held firm in white knuckled hands... "Trish..." a world of hurt in that sweet young voice, but Colonel Stevenson attempted a smile of comfort, even as it turned to a grimace halfway through. "I always considered this from the Norwin, not from any of us," remarked the soldier through clenched teeth. "I should put the asshole outta his misery," muttered Diane unhappily. "Put a bullet through both his heads..." "Help me up, both of you," the voice of command called the elder and younger to attention as their compatriot struggled to stand, still able to modestly refasten her hot pants with one hand, understandably unfocused at the moment. "Get me back to my quarters." Aaron was teary eyed in contrast to the grim faces of both Joyce and Diane as Trish gingerly tested the cot and her ability to sit upon it. "I'm going at first light." "After what just happened? You need time to heal..." "Joyce, after what Joey did and Madeline allowed, this just proves the need for action over reaction," Colonel Stevenson countered, the weight of the world evident in her words. "Complacency is killing us, as surely as the Norwin. I can't fight either without solid information on my side." "Submit like the willow," this simple declaration from the pretty fem- male startled the real women as Aaron kissed her friend and savior on the lips. Something of the man still resided behind these feminine childlike eyes, struggling to be set free. "Make a small place in the back of your mind to keep your strength in reserve." Trish suddenly grinned with a confidence and inner peace given new form by her charge's obvious adoration and own resiliency. Not for the last time, she wished she'd known the soldier before The Change and pledged herself to try and return what Aaron lost inside ... "First light," she repeated to her co-conspirators. "And don't forget your assignments." But even as each made their own promises to hold tight the dream of a resolution to the conflict ahead, dark forces were already plotting to thwart them, from within and without... Elsewhere in The World; Paris, France. The Norwin warlord, Danar, sang the praises of Jondar as he was given this city as a reward for dealing with the tough nut, which had been Europe. While many pockets of resistance existed still in the more remote regions, reports of free humans fleeing toward imagined sanctuaries northward, yet the other states slowly began to fall to The Change. This land of sweet wines and sweeter chattel, surrendered even before the first sweep of Dusters crossed the Rhine, the town and city fathers abasing themselves before their betters to become the most immediately submissive of the Euro-Fem-males. Denar enjoyed the fruits of his conquest, the lush decadence of Paris where even the mayor and his former mistress serviced the warrior in a place they called Cabaret; The Wild West. But as tinsel clad dancers performed onstage and his concubines below the table, Denar found the welcome short lived while neighboring provinces just outside the city were shook by the concussion wave to follow a tremendous blast ... St Petersburg, Russia. The Norwin rule of this great old city was solemn compared to the other provinces set along more temperate climes. The small occupying force found their conquered chattel willing though singularly unimaginative, giving almost as an afterthought of obligation than of lust or honor. Within two months, the Norwin soldiery practically jumped at the chance to leave their frigid beds behind to pursue the remaining free humans which lived in the sparse seemingly unlivable barrens to the north ... The Japans. Once conquered, these small people, fem-males and their women seemed Inter-changeable from one another, polite and restrained in their dealings with the alien occupation force. Subtle and giving until several in the Norwin leadership were killed by normal females who took the place of their transformed mates in the bed-chamber. Not used to such resistance, the Norwin males were at a loss to either explain it or take action other than leveling several towns as a warning ... Expected Enemies and Unexpected Allies; Trish saw the heavy hand before it struck her, the Earth woman able to move just enough to lessen the impact of the blow as it knocked her to the ground. Thus had been the routine between the human and her keeper since the spy had entered the town some four days ago. The scantily clad officer had escaped detection up to the moment she'd entered that small back alley well within the town's borders, wondering just how to introduce herself into the bustling fem-male population. But Fate intervened as two Norwin youths spotted the woman standing in momentary uncertainty just off the main thoroughfare. "You!" declared one of the alien males, towering over Trish at seven feet, even in gawky adolescence. "Come here!" She had thought they'd seen Trish for what she was, calling out an alarm to their elders, but teenagers were apparently the same no matter the species. She'd scarcely come within reach than the bolder of the two, a gangly beanpole of a giant, his deep green eyes reflecting obvious lust from beneath a rough raven haired mop, deftly stripped the hot pants from her. He took hold of her hips, controlling the human female like some doll as his erect member pressed against her. Even in the midst of the anticipated pain, Trish remained amused. Why did men, young or old, seem to like the ass so much? After that, the only thoughts she'd been capable of, was trying not to scream out. After the Norwin boys had their way, with their pretty but otherwise placid plaything, both mildly disgusted with her dull apathy during the rape, the boys had pulled Trish roughly to her feet. Dragged along between the two of them, she found herself escorted to where an elder male was directing the dispersion of fem-males to different sections of town. "An untagged fem-male?" the oldster, almost at the edge of obsolescence with his white hair and sagging cheeks, remarked with great annoyance. Colonel Stevenson felt his dull expression tighten in unaccustomed concentration, but her fear of discovery went unfulfulled as he reached for an odd implement. "Those idiots, sons of offal! they know that every Changling should get the brand at the moment of round-up! You! What is your name?" She'd thought quickly, knowing that a female name would have given the game away, but Trish smiled inwardly as she wondered what her father would have thought of the joke ... "Jacob," the spy told him with trembling fearful voice, the ancient alien deftly adjusting some settings on the almost ivory looking slender rod. At a gesture, the two lads took hold of her legs, spreading them wide as the wand radiated an obvious heat at its' blunt end. With a quick practiced thrust, she received a mark on her upper right inner thigh, the old male grunting with satisfaction. "For record keeping, you're Jacob 7. You'll be assigned, soon enough, to either a public house or to auction for a special master. Off with her then..." *** "You're a slug, you know that?" demanded Hagna, the mistress of the house to which Trish had eventually been taken, in every sense of the word. Oddly enough, the house of pleasure where the comely agent was brought had been just that before the Invasion, perhaps recognized as the same by the perverse minds of the Norwin males. Barely through the door, the old woman who'd be her keeper took over. "Dead between the sheets, barely suitable for anything else," muttered the ancient, Hagna still a handsome woman even through the gentle knit of wrinkles, which broke up her otherwise smooth face. "But Lord Gendal wants you all working, so ..." Trish had seen the commander in charge of Tyner just once as he visited the pleasure house. The giant had seemed so much younger than she, scarcely older than those rough children who'd ravaged the spy upon her entry into town. But the blond haired boy caught her attentions far less than did his fem-male escort, a dusky Arabian beauty, who sparked recognition in Trish's memory even before Gendal spoke her name . . . 'Kamal.' " ... The Maker only knows what he saw in creating you in the first place." Hagna went on, oblivious to the distraction of the lesser female. "Cast you off, if I had my way. But his will is law." "His will be done," murmured her charge softly, surprised by the almost invisible smile which upturned the stern mouth of the Norwin teacher. "As it is told," Hagna answered almost reverently, before returning to form but without the ire of before. "Now get that laundry done before the noon bell, or you'll soon enough feel my will on your backside. Get to it." But even as she returned to her sudsy servitude, Trish knew that she had to find Kamal, and discover just how much of the soldier was left beneath the submissive's sexy feminine mask. *** Meanwhile, in the heights above the town, a decidedly human and very determined young woman followed an almost invisible track just a few hundred yards below the ridge. For Diane Turner, even the few days since Trish had gone were terrible, Madame Madeline wasting no time in remaking the colony over in her own image. There was only one stopgap to her plans, Joyce Wallace, the elder woman working overtime to counter the persuasion of the First Lady with her own patient rhetoric. Also, Madeline had sent her fem-male spouse to Aaron as a shapely and quite seductive peace-offering to the lonely Changling who'd begun losing assertive ground in the absence of her soldier guardian. Even while both Joyce and Diane tried to keep up her lessons, Aaron shown signs of a gradual backslide under the pressure of Tommie's persistent playful advances. But Diane wasn't able to be there all the time, consumed as she was by the project, which Colonel Stevenson had laid on her, the communications tower, which was their lifeline to the other survivor camps across the country. Under the Colonel's orders, three likely candidates had already begun the construction of a mess of metal and wire within a clutch of trees some seven miles to the North-East of the colony. But to get there meant using a narrow trail, which traversed quite treacherous fields of fallen shale. While Diane was up to the task, the otherwise cocksure teen couldn't help but gulp unconsciously at the edge of one such fall, which extended sharply down to the lip of a sheer drop of at least eighty feet. Still, she steeled herself for the crossing, perhaps only a cautious two dozen steps to reach the other side, knowing that the others awaited her at the site. But as the girl gingerly tested the fall, progressing slowly with an occasional cascade of loose stone rattling down the steep slope, Diane discovered by mid-point that she wasn't going to reach her destination after all. The youth never saw it coming, this abrupt avalanche which descended from the heights, the ground beneath her moving as the impact from a great boulder shook loose the fall, the entire slope carrying Diane along with it toward the edge of the abyss! She had no escape, nothing to cling to as the girl found open air beneath her. The plunge, toward a messy death, was unexpectedly stopped by the rough branches of a large pine slowing her descent enough that Diane landed upon a narrow shelf just beneath the drop-off rather than continue to fall to the rocks below. But while fortune saved her life, it didn't keep her from breaking several ribs and shattering an arm against the granite projection. Diane went numb from the pain, fighting the tendrils of unconsciousness, which wrapped themselves around her brain. It was her silence which saved the teen, a mix of voices from the overhang filtering through her dulled senses so that Ms. Turner understood her peril at letting them know she lived still... "Is she dead?" asked a deep bass, movement from above sending a tiny shower of pebbles down before Diane's sanctuary. "Madeline said to be sure ..." "You want to jump after her?" demanded a lighter feminine voice. "The girl went right over the edge." "I don't know," the first speaker remarked somewhat nervously. "There should be a switchback further down the trail. We should check it out ... " But before further investigation revealed the crippled youngster to her mystery attackers, Diane heard them shouting to one another as she also heard the familiar droning sound of an approaching Norwin ship. Their retreat was noisy enough, but apparently did not alert the scout craft to their presence as the vessel made a lazy pass by her shelter, the drone diminishing quickly as it apparently vanished over the ridge behind her. Still, Diane had never thought she'd be grateful to the Norwin for anything. Yet as the silence fell about her, no signs of either alien or human conspirator returned to bother the girl while she lay in motionless pained contemplation of her situation. She knew that help would not come, that if she didn't try to save herself the only option left would be Death! *** "You've found nothing," Joyce Wallace repeated incredulously while the two scouts looked embarrassed. "There's only one trail she could have used, and still there was no trace of Diane? None at all?" "We went all the way up to the tower and back, Joyce," protested Tess Walker, a tall, slender, and decidedly non-athletic former White House archivist, her once immaculate raven black hair matted and bright eyes flashing with annoyance. "There was a sign of fresh disturbance, a slide of some sort halfway there but ..." "Did you investigate? " Ms Wallace demanded angrily. "She might be hurt, unable to answer ..." "It's a sheer drop, maybe a hundred feet straight down," interrupted Toby Roberts, an intern from Wyoming, sharp angular face beneath a shaggy mop, his once equally focused mind dulled by the growing complacency beneath Madeline's reign. "I got as close to the edge as I could, but there wasn't a body or anything." "Nevermind," the elder woman answered with obvious disdain. "I'll go myself. Thanks for trying." Thrilled to be dismissed the pair hurried off while Joyce returned to find Aaron back in her quarters, primping before a small handheld mirror like some teen prom queen. The fem-male had the good graces to look guilty, even as she wore a dove-white bustier and hip hugger panties loaned her by Tommie Bradley. Madeline's handiwork was evident in the bold mascara, thick lashes and deep scarlet lipstick, which adorned the beautiful neuter. "I need to go out for a bit, hon," Joyce told her, biting back a sarcastic comment about Cheap Whore makeup. As fragile as Aaron's psyche was, she didn't need any further help from the former supervisor to retreat into a shell of complete submissiveness. "No sign of Diane." The matter of fact remark couldn't hide the trembling of Colonel Christopher's painted lips, even as she tried to affect a brave face. "You do need to go. Keep looking till you find her." What mysterious force dwelt within the fem-male, chemical or something else, it brought Joyce to the edge of tears as she held Aaron tight for a time. "I can't leave you in Madeline's hands," protested the guardian. "What would Trish say?" "What would she say if we left Diane out there alone?" the simple logic needed no force of confidence for Aaron to say it. Those bright moist eyes were enough for her companion even as the fem-male softly smiled. "If we lose them both, we lose the war." Joyce had no words to answer, only a tearful mute salute to this belled but unbowed beauty as they held each tight. *** News of the impending arrival of Jondar had circulated throughout Tyner colony, making Kamal even more nervous than before, though she adopted a calm complacency about her master as Gendal paced the bedchamber. "Still we have no idea as to where the camps of the resistance are, and Jondar is expected this very afternoon," fumed the youth impatiently. "If even one of their number could be caught, but no, they remain well hid despite our best efforts." "But it's not your fault," Kamal soothed, even as she bid her lover to come sit upon the soft mattress. She knelt behind him, her delicate fingers deftly rubbing the tension from those impossibly broad shoulders. "That's not how my lord will see it. The Norwin prevail, always. We've done so on nearly a hundred worlds, and we must win here as well," he explained patiently. Kamal sighed into his long mane, once more uncertain as to where her loyalties lay. If it came down to supporting her paramour, which would ultimately doom the Earth to a future under the Norwin yoke, was her own survival that important? "What can I do to ease your worries?" she asked him. "Go to the mistress of the House and see that all will be ready when Jondars' ship lands," Gendal ordered with a sad smile in his voice. "All else will have to come from me, I'm afraid. Now go, and do my bidding!" With the bark in his words, the Arabian beauty felt the great gulf between them, Houris and slave obedient to his will. Could there ever be any love in all of this? But even as Kamal made haste toward the domestics quarters, she felt a slim hand touch her shoulder. Staring with deep concentration, a vaguely familiar and quite human woman drew the fem-male away from the crowded noisy chamber. "Kamal Bashir, we need to talk," Trish Stevenson told her, even as her reluctant companion recognized General Warren's aide. "I guess we do," Kamal sighed as that feared moment of truth forced a decision sooner than she'd hoped. *** His great bushy brow raised in alert impassivity, or so it seemed to the modest honor guard as Jondar slowly descended the ramp from the command ship. But even as he gave formal nod to his would-be successor, Gendal caught that glint of disapproval reserved for more private moments between them. "Your reception does me honor," the chieftain told the youth, even as a dozen fem-males prostrated themselves before him in the oddly tight corsets and tight weave lower garments which a most proficient aide told him were Daisy Dukes. Disappointing in their concealment, so unlike the looser clothes of Norwin females, and yet all the more alluring because of it. But Jondar had more serious business to deal with before sampling their pleasures. "Not Honor enough for you, milord," the sandy haired governor responded easily, chilled by his master's blunt rebuke. "True enough. But that will come later, since there are things to discuss between us," the elder rejoined easily. Gendal knew, he felt the dark energy flowing as they moved inside to his private office. And as the door shut, Jondar caught his young acolyte with a powerful backhand. "You were meant to rule here," the brazen bruise on Gendal's right cheek belayed the deceptive cool, as the warlord watched with faint approval the restraint in this chastised boy. "Yet still there is a strong rebel faction which surrounds this town. Why?" "I understand we still have such pockets of resistance across the waters," the young Norwin responded with a tight voice, the storm raging behind a stony mask. "So I'm left to wonder why I've been singled out among your generals." Jondar smiled with a deeper purpose, his eyes watching for signs, satisfied that Gendal was properly woken up. "Because you alone have shown the qualities I need. When this old hunter falls before the pack, who will take his place? But you're so young still, unmarked and that's my fault. You need to be blooded with victories, not stale-mates or retreats. Especially not on this world ..." "Milord." "We use these conquered so casually, as we may," Jondar lectured idly, even as he lounged back in the too small leather backed chair, which ill-supported his great frame. "But they are neither wives, or younglings, or clan. They are the beaten, the offal beneath our boots, the beaten. To raise even the most enchanting of the Changlings to the level of a Norwin female ..." "Rumors," Gendal blurted out and his lord chuckled. "The severity of such politics undermined leadership as effectively as any wound. But I will help you prove such gossip to be unfounded," Jondar responded, glancing about the room as if the object of his derision might come out of shadow. "Help me?" the young warrior blinked as his superior nodded with grim humor. "Once we've removed this stubborn element from our midst, I return to Vegas and I will take your chattel with me," Jondar told him. Gendal knew, understood that the great chieftain was not talking of suspicions, only certainties when he spoke of taking Kamal away. But with this promise, an otherwise unspoken emotion forced itself to the foreground of his own confusion, Gendal understanding something about where his own loyalties lay. *** Unaware that she was being traded as easily as a low card passed from hand to hand, Kamal finished her talk with Trish, knowing little except that the sultry fem-male was privy to a plan to counter the Norwin and finally overthrow the shackles of sexual slavery. But what the revolution needed was an object, a secret to rally the few rebels around. With that in mind, Kamal had told the Colonel to seek out Hagna. "She's mistress, not only to this household, but to everything concerning the history of her race," the Syrian siren explained. "I couldn't get close, because my relationship with Gendal has made me suspect among the real females, human and Norwin alike, but if you can loosen her tongue." "I'll get on that," Trish promised. "I'm sorry I can't let you in on the plan, but ..." "Tell me nothing, and I can't spill the bean to Gendal under duress," Kamal had sighed. "But will you come for me when you're ready to leave?" "I will, a few days at the most, depending on how well I do with Hagna," her beautiful superior confessed. "Now get back to your duties, say nothing of seeing me if you can. With fingers crossed, we can outthink these barriers even if we can't outfight them directly." Kamal was ready to leave but was gently surprised as Trish, looking decidedly less the soldier in her halter and hot pants, leaned over and kissed her hard on those scarlet lips. "You ... be alert and be very careful." For one skating upon cracking ice, Kamal wondered if her spirit was that strong. But with that kiss, she found inspiration enough to try.... *** "You look very sweet, Aaron," Lady Madeline cooed as the now unchallenged leader of Tyner, and much of the remaining free people, lightly stroked the fem-males' long tresses. "While this isn't exactly your first, I think that Joey'll approve. Without Joyce, the colony fell in line to the First Lady's plans with only a few grumbles from family of the affected fem-males. Surprisingly, few among the Tyner males actively sought out the Changling chattel which Madeline offered. Joey Fields was largely alone in his runaway sexual appetites. And of his preferred targets was Aaron Christopher ... She looked so virginal in the dove-white babydoll, the former Colonel knew that the ever violent youth would be more inclined to rape her, thus his true nature came out. An alternately pampered and bullied weakling, Joey got out all his frustrations in the forceful penetration, but as with others of his kind, the teen was never satisfied. At least between other fem-males and the men who used them, there was a chance of mutual release, even a facsimile of kindness. But with her brutal paramour, Aaron found only pain. *** Trish thought often of Aaron, Diane, and Joyce, as she worked beside Hagna in the kitchens and the laundry. Perhaps her meek but cool manner awoken a rough kinship between the Norwin overseer and her human slave, but Hagna seemed to strike Trish with less frequency than before. Likely the Earth girl was less a threat as concubine since few Norwin males sought out this cold fish after sampling her unenthusiastic talents in bed ... But even as the head mistress opened up, she still revealed little for the spy to use until the imminent birth of a Norwin child also gave birth to a faint hope for the beleaguered Earthers ... "We administer the elixir some hours before Ranan takes her final contractions," Hagna told her aide, even as the two of them rummaged about in the apothecary in search of potions. "It will give the young mother back what she will need to birth her child." "What does that mean? 'Give Back'?" blurted out Trish with such aggressive curiosity she expected the elderly giantess to betray her at once. But the old female saw only a pupil interested in her lore. "That which The Change took from the women of our clan so long ago, after The Struggle." "Hagna?" Trish asked softly, concealing her eagerness for this new bit of Norwin mythology behind a demure manner. "What was The Struggle?" "Long ago and far from this system, our people worshiped much the same toys which your race does at present. We found ourselves within a lengthy time of idleness and boredom, a creeping atrophy moving throughout the clans. What blood sport and games of chance the elders could devise to stave off the planet-wide tedium, were excluded from women by law," Hagna explained carefully, even as she swept the high shelves for her prize. "The Struggle were the Games?" Trish prodded lightly, Hagna frowning as she recalled this distant almost forgotten history. "We protested in softer ways, at first, in accordance to our gender, but soon enough the sparks of rebellion had been lit in a more fiery arena. Disorder reigned within city and countryside until the sage found a way to quell our passions, to save the Norwin from themselves." "The Change?" the spy asked, scarcely believing that the drug responsible for enslaving the men of Earth could ha