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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.
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