Our Hotwives

This one's a bit different - a heavy Femdom theme. Not for everyone. You've been warned...


A romantic cruise takes an unexpected turn when
Liz and Brett are marooned on an isolated island
where society is turned upside-down.



LOST

By Don Jetman



~1~


Brett opened his eyes and peered into the alien face of a sand crab, its crimson
claw waving a slow warning just inches from his face. Black sand stretched to
the horizon, bordered by a retreating tide that lapped at his bare feet. Liz lay
on her back beside him. Her arms and legs were sprawled at odd angles, her
creamy breasts and the white band of skin over her bare hips a stark contrast to
a golden brown tan. Was she breathing? Brett struggled to raise his head an inch
above the gritty sand bringing her into focus again, and saw that she was.

It seemed like only minutes earlier that they were tucked away in the cozy cabin
of the Dreamboat, a medium-sized schooner that was to take them on a romantic
second honeymoon. The storm came up suddenly, while they were making love. By
the time they heard the screams of the other passengers and crew, the ship was
listing to one side, already low in the water. They tumbled from the bed to the
wall of the cabin as the ship lurched suddenly and rolled onto its side. Briny
water burst through the single round porthole, quickly filling the cabin. Brett
found Liz's hand and pulled her close just as the deck above them broke away,
tossing them into a chaotic, frothy sea. He felt her hand go limp, then slip
away just before his world went silent and dark.

Now, squinting across the stretch of beach between them, he tried to call her
name, but found his best attempt was little more than a whisper. Even in his
confused state, he couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she was, so naked
and vulnerable on the sunny beach. Minutes ago they had been making love in
their cabin. Now by some miracle, they had been washed ashore together on an
unfamiliar beach, both weak and dazed, but alive.

Brett closed his eyes and dozed, thankful for their rescue in spite of the
terrifying disaster that must have left the others missing at sea. When he
opened them again, a small group of women had gathered around him, eyeing him
carefully. In the distance, others were helping Liz to her feet, offering her a
drink taken from one of the women's backpacks. He rolled onto his back and
looked up at them. The sight was stunning. They were nearly naked, wearing only
the tiniest of brightly-colored thongs and open sandals that laced to just below
the knee. He stared at the six pairs of perfect breasts hovering above him, then
up at the angelic faces that seemed to shimmer with light, haloed by the blazing
sun overhead. "Am I dead?" he wondered. "Is this heaven?" It was then that he
felt the wasp-like sting at the side of his neck. In seconds, everything went
black.

LOST



~~2~~

Brett woke in a hospital bed. The steady cadence of a heart rate monitor beeped
quietly beside him in the stark, white room. A female attendant stood by the
bed, watching him intently.

"Don't try to get up," she told him. "You're still weak, but you'll be fine."

"Where am I?" Brett asked, unable to keep from staring at her firm, bare
breasts.

"You were in an accident. You nearly drowned. Rest for a while. This should make
you feel much better."

She hung a large IV bag beside him and started a drip into the catheter already
inserted into the back of his hand. In an hour he was sitting on the edge of the
bed, facing a small audience of three women so much alike they might have been
clones. The tallest of the three asked his name and assured him that Liz was in
good health.

"You washed up on our island earlier this morning, apparently the victim of a
boating accident. The rules and customs here are much different than you're
accustomed to, so please listen carefully. We are a matriarchal society, a
society of strong women and compliant men. Women earn their title as Citizens by
virtue of our sex. The men here are subordinate, useful as husbands or
companions, but never attaining Citizen status.

"Our men's natural hormonal instinct for aggressiveness is kept in check by the
metal band just above your testicles. You were fitted with it just after you
arrived. The small chip attached to it operates remotely, in response to a
display unacceptable behavior."

She touched a simple pendant that hung from a delicate gold chain around her
waist. Immediately Brett felt an ache between his legs, as though he had been
kicked in the balls. He doubled over, clutching his genitals, gasping in
unrelenting pain. After a few seconds, she touched the pendant a second time and
the pain vanished.

"The band encircling your scrotum is sized for you personally, just small enough
that it can't be slipped over your testicles. I don't advise trying to remove it
- you will certainly cause permanent damage to yourself. We refer to the devices
as "harnesses", more for the purpose they serve than their appearance. You'll
see that all men here wear them, with no ill effects, as long as there is no
reason to activate them.

"We've given Liz a comfortable home, not far from here. There's no reason the
two of you can't live as husband and wife, as long as you accept our traditions.
Your harness is tuned to Liz's remote, and to the perimeter monitors surrounding
her home. Stay close to her when you accompany her outside her property. Stray
too far, and the device activates automatically. The pain increases with
distance, so there will be adequate warning before it becomes unbearable. I
don't recommend that you test its limits.

"Your penis has also been fitted with a cage. It's a temporary discomfort, to be
removed when we can be certain of your behavior. We can't have you impregnating
any of us, so until you're acclimated, it allows you to be immediately
integrated into our society.

"I'm sure you have many questions, but for now, this is all you need to know.
I'll escort you to Liz's home. Please follow at a close distance - we don't want
an embarrassing scene your first day."

Brett eased off the bed and rose to his feet. The metal cage was uncomfortable,
its bulk and weight an embarrassing reminder of his new status. It tugged at him
when he walked, bobbing and swaying with each step. Just as they reached the
door, Brett hesitated.

"C-Can I have some clothes?" he asked the statuesque blonde.
She turned to him, glanced up and down his body for a second, then showed just a
hint of a smile.

"Our men don't wear clothes here. There's no need. The weather's always warm,
and we've seen everything you have, many times. You'll lose your modesty quickly
here. Liz already has."

She led Brett down a long hall, then through two sets of heavy doors, into the
sunlight. They climbed a long, sloping ramp rising from the underground level of
a low, sprawling building. Brett followed reluctantly, surprised at the throng
of men and women casually strolling along neat walkways that snaked through the
surrounding tropical plants and grasses. He noticed a few men, always
accompanied by a stunning female companion, but apparently at ease, most even
cheerful as they strolled naked in public. Soon he found that all the men shared
a common feature - their penises were tiny - so small the metal ring seated
snugly atop their testicles glistened in the bright sun, fully exposed beneath
barely visible stubs of pink flesh.

A few of the women stared at his crotch briefly, then looked away, some
whispering to their companions and rolling their eyes with ridicule. What was
wrong with them, Bret wondered. His cock was bigger than any of these men - were
all the women here lesbians? Finally he guessed it was the cage over his penis -
it was the sign of a newcomer, a male whose cock scared or threatened them.
That's why they put the cage on him. It was all very strange.

During the short walk to their destination, Brett felt his penis stir as he
admired the gorgeous women around him. Twice Brett fell behind his escort, and
each time a nagging pain grew between his legs. The ache was enough to take his
mind off the nearly naked women at once, his erection failing to survive long
enough to touch the end of its cage. It was as though he was tethered by an
invisible leash as she walked ahead of him with a brisk stride of both
indifference and arrogance.

Liz ran to him and embraced him when they finally arrived.

"I was so worried," she told him. "Are you OK?"

Brett assured her that he was fine, but a little tired, glancing warily at his
tall escort still just a few feet away. When she finally left, Brett had many
questions, but Liz had few answers. She showed him around the five room bungalow
as though she had lived there for weeks, prepared a delicious dinner of fresh
fish and steamed vegetables, then led him to a small patio where they sipped
potent, tangy, ice-cold drinks and watched the sun set behind a lush horizon.
Later, they found the large bed together hand-in-hand, fell onto the crisp, cool
sheets, and slept.

LOST



~~3~~

On the morning of their second day on the island, Liz and Brett sat at the round
glass table in the kitchen nook eating a breakfast of fresh fruit and granola.
It was awkward for both of them after a day of probing and poking by the medical
attendants. Although everyone on the island was naked, or nearly so, the loss of
modesty was still uncomfortable for Brett. The climate was warm enough - the
island was a balmy eighty degrees during the day with a refreshing breeze, but
it was difficult for him to show the same uninhibited innocence of the
islanders.

Brett squirmed as he tried to reposition the wire cage that restrained his
penis. The cage contained tiny sharp spikes arranged in a circle, facing inward,
an inch from the end. He had been warned that erections were controlled by the
women on the island, and that until he was properly trained, the cage would
discourage him from misbehaving. He had been "discouraged" the night before
when, in her sleep, Liz had snuggled close to him, threw a bare leg over him,
and made some familiar pre-sex whimpering sounds. It took only a few seconds for
his erection to fill the cramped cage, swelling to meet the tiny teeth that cut
into the sensitive flesh around the head of his cock. The heavy wire ring that
surrounded his scrotum could be just as painful, if not more so if he sat in the
wrong position. Liz noticed his discomfort and glanced down through the glass
tabletop.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"It's tight," Brett told her. "It's hard to get comfortable when I sit."

"They said you'd get used to it, eventually," Liz told him, trying to be
sympathetic. "And later, they promised you wouldn't have to wear the part around
your penis. It's only to keep you from..."

Liz stopped in mid-sentence, looking up at him with apology in her eyes.

"Did they tell you why, Liz? Did they say why they don't want me to get hard -
why they don't want us to make love? How long is this supposed to go on?"

Liz looked down at her bowl as she ate. "Maybe they'll tell us today," she said
quietly. "We have an appointment at the Medical Center this afternoon."

Brett finished his breakfast in silence. She knew something he didn't - he could
hear it in the ominous tone of her voice.

LOST



~~4~~

The two women who arrived to take them to their appointment were as tall and
beautiful as any Brett had seen on the island - the smooth, bronzed skin, long,
slim legs, and firm breasts with erect nipples seemed to characterize every
woman he saw. They introduced themselves as Michelle and Amy, and explained they
were to chaperone Liz and Brett to the Medical Center for orientation and
additional physical exams. While they were cordial and talkative to Liz, they
virtually ignored Brett, except to remind him to stay close to Liz as they
walked. Michelle and Amy waited somewhat impatiently as he hesitantly moved
closer to Liz. Liz did her best to flash a comforting smile. Then she turned to
join her new friends and led him outside.

Brett followed the three of them closely, careful not to stray too far behind.
From the back, Liz could easily be mistaken for one of them. After just one day
her skin seemed silkier and more youthful and her body slimmer and tighter. Even
her step had a more energetic bounce, and she glowed with an undeniable hint of
sexual awareness. She's becoming one of them, he thought, but why, and how?

They passed scores of women on the busy walkways. All of them, blondes,
brunettes, and redheads, had the lean, hard bodies of athletic supermodels, and
many led a man beside or behind her. When he had been taken to their bungalow
for the first time, Brett had seen men and women walking together, nearly as
equals. Now, some of the men followed obediently, careful to stay within the
reaches of their invisible leashes. Strangely, all the men seemed at ease with
their position in this society, even when kept on leashes by beautiful women who
treated many them with apparent indifference. The men were slim, young, and
tanned, all with testicles bound by the same heavy wire ring. It was a bizarre
sight - each and every man led by his balls, prominently displayed by the
tension of the mental band. In comparison, their penises, which were free of the
menacing cage he wore, again all seemed very small, almost difficult to detect
in some cases.

As they strolled across a sunny, open area surrounding the Medical Center, a man
crossed in front of them, scarcely twenty feet away. He ran in long, frantic
strides, alone in the blazing afternoon sun. Just as he passed, his pace slowed,
he groaned, and fell to his knees. Desperately, he began to crawl, moaning
louder with each inch of progress. There was no reaction from any of the women
as they passed by. It was as though the man didn't exist. Brett stared as he
began to scream, finally collapsing, sprawled motionless on the emerald grass.
Pale and shaken, Brett quickened his pace, careful to stay even closer to Liz
and the pendant attached to the thin gold chain that circled her supple waist.

The Medical Center, like many of the buildings on the island, was a wide, two-
story structure made of rock and heavy wooden beams. It was unimpressive at
first sight, a mix of local natural materials assembled to appear soothing and
welcoming to all who entered. Once inside, Liz and Brett were told by yet
another bare-breasted beauty behind a glass enclosure to complete the brief
medical history form given to each of them and give it to the technician
assigned to them.

Brett sat close to Liz as they each filled in line after line of medical details
and highly personal information. Brett's form was entirely technical, with
questions about previous surgeries and diseases and any present disorders. He
found that a large percentage of the questions dealt with reproductive health,
some venturing into areas he had never been asked about:

"Has your semen ever had an unusual smell or appearance?"

"How often are you able to ejaculate within one hour?"

"What is the approximate volume of semen per ejaculation?"

"Have you had your sperm count and motility tested? What were the results?"

He had no idea how to answer some of them, so he guessed. What difference did it
make - it was none of their business anyway. When he finished, he glanced over
at Liz's progress and noticed that she had many more pages to complete. The last
was blank, with a single question at the top:

"List all sexual fantasies, both realized or imagined, and rate them on a scale
of 1 through 5."

Liz had filled in half the page when she caught Brett looking. She grinned and
angled the paper away from him, telling him, "Hey, don't look! Some of this is
kind of embarrassing - stuff I haven't even dared to tell you yet. Maybe
someday..." Although she was still smiling as she went back to writing, it was
unsettling to Brett that she would reveal sex fantasies to total strangers she
couldn't confess to him. She looked like she was enjoying this. What was
happening to her?

They came for Brett first, two muscular women that, for the first time here,
didn't fit the Barbie-doll mold. They were much too formal and stoic for Brett's
liking. Just after he stood and took a few steps toward them, the familiar ache
returned to his groin. When he stopped in his tracks, one of them approached,
touched a small black box at her side, and the pain vanished. As they ushered
him through a heavy set of double doors, he looked back at Liz. Now she wasn't
smiling.

Liz was taken to a small observation room that overlooked what appeared to be a
surgical operating room. Trays of instruments and equipment surrounded a
leather-covered exam table in the center of the room. She saw the door to the
room open and the two large women guide Brett inside. They walked on either side
of him, each grasping his upper arm firmly, as though he might try to escape.
Brett looked so helpless, she thought, and frightened as well. He glanced up at
the window and stopped, looked directly at Liz, and was pulled away toward the
table.

They laid him face down, securing his ankles and wrists with wide leather
straps. One of the women reached under the table, pulled his penis through a
round opening and removed his cage. Uncoiling a loop of tubing attached to a
nearby instrument, she inspected the end, applied a thin coating of lubricant,
and knelt by the table. Reaching up, she threaded a few inches of the catheter
into the end of his penis. With a barely audible hiss, the instrument drew the
air out of a condom-like outer sheath, snugging it tightly, keeping the catheter
firmly in place.

"Please, don't hurt him," Liz pleaded to her two blonde chaperones. "What are
they doing to him?"

"It doesn't hurt them," replied the taller of the two. "At least not after a few
times, after they get used to it." The second woman, a blond pixie with
electric-blue eyes, pointed to the room below as she explained. "By now you've
noticed that the women here are all attractive, and the picture of health. And,
I'm sure you've seen that our men have very little between their legs. We keep
them that way to remind them of their place here, and to be sure they never
impregnate any of us. The men you've seen here in public are hardly breeding
stock. But after a while, they do make good servants and companions, if that's
what you decide you want.

"We do all this with Mother's Milk. No, it's not what it sounds like. Mother's
Milk is made from semen. Our chemists modify it to enhance certain effects. It
works to our benefit, making us stronger and more attractive, slowing the aging
process to one-tenth of its normal pace. But the very same Mother's Milk
emasculates men; over time it shrinks their penises, kills their libido, and
makes them more compliant. It also gradually increases semen output, improving
the overall yield per man. You'll notice a gradual increase in his testicle size
in time, and a slight belly-bulge as his prostate production and storage
increase. But really, in time they accept their place in the society. They're
quite happy - we take good care of them, and many continue in the role of loving
husbands."

Liz grimaced as a technician eased a six-inch metal probe into Brett's anus. He
began to struggle against the straps and cry out as the instruments beside the
table came to life with red LEDs and display screens.

"It's known as milking," the taller blonde explained. Liz gulped and stared, now
fearful of what Brett might face. "It's really a very simple procedure. The
probe stimulates the prostate and seminal vesicles directly, causing them to
spasm and contract, expelling semen into the catheter. A light suction assures
he's fully drained, then draws the semen into a nearby container where it's
collected, stored, then processed by our chemists."

"So, it doesn't hurt him?" Liz asked tentatively.

"Uncomfortable is a better word. The first few times the probe triggers an
orgasm. Unfortunately, the length of time required to fully drain him can cause
uncomfortable spasms throughout his reproductive system. Mostly it's just very
exhausting. The men describe the side-effects as a disturbingly empty feeling
accompanied by a little soreness. As a bonus, we've found that they're unable to
achieve erections or orgasm for at least forty-eight hours afterward. But that
soon passes. After a few milkings, the probe begins to stress the nerves
responsible for orgasm. Soon the obvious external spasms never occur when
they're milked. They don't technically orgasm after that. The probe simply
causes repetitive contractions of the prostate and seminal vesicles and drains
the ejected semen with no side-effects at all."

"But, he can still have sex, can't he? After he recovers?" Liz was now more
fearful, concerned that Brett might be injured.

The tall blonde turned to Liz and took her hand. "Liz, things are done
differently here. Brett will remain a good companion and loving husband. But for
sex, we have much superior options here. As a Citizen, you'll have access to the
Stables. The men there can satisfy all your needs, and then some. We breed
them for that, and that alone. You and Brett can have a long and happy life
together here, but you'll soon find you don't need him for sex. And, he'll be
perfectly fine with that. Mother's Milk is in everything we eat and drink here.
You'll discover that the more you want sex, the less interested he'll be."

"But, he will be able to have sex though, I mean, if we want to?"

The blonde squeezed Liz's hand, trying to calm her with a soothing tone. "In
time, milking makes them permanently impotent. The nerves just can't endure the
repeated stimulation. But it's just as well, Liz. In time, Mother's Milk will
shrink his penis to useless proportions. He won't have anything to have sex
with. It's a kindness, really. It's much more humane to kill his sex drive and
render his penis useless than to have him frustrated and unhappy. He won't even
care that he's impotent, because sex will be the last thing on his mind."

At that moment, Brett's body stiffened. His hips jerked up and down as the probe
triggered a violent orgasm. A minute passed, then two, then three. His grunts
turned to moans of agony, timed with each pulse of the probe. Four minutes
passed, then five. A vial hung on the side of the instrument was half-full of
semen. Liz watched as the milky liquid spurted into the small container, slowing
to one drop at a time until it was three-quarters full. Brett groaned as the
pulses continued. His erection was larger and harder than Liz had ever seen it,
jerking with futile spasms as the last of his semen was extracted. After ten
full minutes the instrument was shut off and Brett collapsed onto the table,
limp and shivering.

"So, it's over now?" Liz asked.

"He'll need to recover for a while," the shorter blonde told her. "But while he
does, we'd like to show our appreciation for donating his semen."

Liz was troubled by the phrase she used. Liz hadn't "donated" Brett's semen -
they had taken it themselves by draining him with the grotesque machine. They
had forced his insides to spasm until his semen was extracted. She didn't want
credit for this - it would ruin him.

"For every donation here you'll get a pass to the Stables, Liz. We'll take a
look as your husband recovers."

LOST



~~5~~

They took an elevator up to the main level, exited the building, then strolled
across a sun-drenched park to a pathway leading into a heavily shaded clearing.
Liz stared at the inviting structure as they approached the heavy wooden double
doors. It resembled a huge ranch-style house, built of heavy wooden beams that
soared up to the peak of the roof. One of the women touched the small device at
her side and the doors swung open, inviting them inside.

The lobby was a large open area with a circular desk at the center. The girl
behind the desk looked up at them and smiled.

"Ahh, you must be Liz. I'm Bridget. Welcome to the Stables. The Medical Center
has transferred your credits," she said as she stared into the glowing monitor
in front of her. "Well, it seems they've been quite generous - lucky you." She
smiled warmly, anticipating Liz's confusion. "The men here are bred and selected
for their ability to provide you with the most pleasurable experience possible.
We call them Bulls, essentially because their single purpose is to satisfy our
physical needs. Although some women who come to the island aren't used to purely
recreational sex, in time they savor their visits here, without exception.
You'll find our Bulls not only visually stunning, but also well-endowed, with
staggering endurance and skill. So, if you're ready, let's show you to a
selection booth.

"They'll keep your husband at the Medical Center until you're finished. Just ask
at the front desk and they'll bring him to you. You can tell him where you've
been on your walk home, if you like. We're very open about the Stables to the
men here. In time, they understand that we have needs they can no longer
satisfy. Before long, they accept it as a way of life."

Liz fidgeted as she looked around the lobby. "I'm not sure Brett will ever
accept this," she told them. "I wouldn't know how to tell him."

"He will, you'll see," she assured Liz. "Eventually, he'll have to. Most of us
come here at least four or five times a week, some every day. The climate and
Mother's Milk give all of us a healthy appetite for sex. They've awarded enough
credits initially for three visits, but after that you'll receive credits for
one visit each time you take your husband in for milking. The credits are
transferred to your account the minute he's drained, so you can drop him off and
be here in time to use them. Oh, and we do ask that you have him milked at least
three times a week to maintain our supply of Mother's Milk. If you're like most
of us, you'll be bringing him in much more often. The Bulls are more than enough
incentive - you'll know what I mean very soon."

She showed Liz to one of a series of small rooms behind the reception desk.
Bridget followed her inside and seated her at a simple desk. An open album lay
before her, and Bridget placed a cool drink beside it.

"This will help. Everyone's nervous their first time."

Liz sipped the drink, looking down at a glossy picture of a naked man displayed
inside the cover of the leather bound book. He was stunning - a chiseled face
atop a perfect, slim, muscular body. His thick penis hung between his legs like
a heavy rope, not fully erect, but alive with thick veins that ran the length of
it. She couldn't take her eyes off him. Bridget reached down and turned the
page, revealing a photo of a second man with a heavier physique, but just as
perfect as the first.

"We've narrowed your choices this time to make it easier to decide," Bridget
explained. "Take your time - we've chosen six men who are most likely to fit
your tastes based on your intake survey. All of them are equally skilled, and
sterile, so no contraception is necessary."

Liz flipped through the pages, sipping her drink, completely taken in by
thoughts of sex with the men before her eyes. Finally, growing wet between her
legs, she turned back to the first page and pointed to the photo.

"How can I possibly do this?" she thought. "What would Brett think if he knew?
It would crush him. But my God, I want this man so much..." She looked up at
Bridget with uncertainty, her finger still touching the photo of her potential
lover. Her hand was shaking, but she couldn't seem to remove it. She glanced at
the half-empty frosty glass beside the open album, then back at Bridget.
Bridget's smile was warm and sympathetic.

"We were all nervous our first time. You're not feeling anything you don't
already want - we're just making it easier to adjust, easier for you to fully
appreciate your body's enhanced potential for pleasure. You must have sensed it,
even before you arrived at the Stables. Mother's Milk permeates the island -
it's in every bite of food we eat, every drop of water we drink, in our soil and
ground water, and even the air we breathe."

Liz shuddered at Bridget's explanation, now confused by conflicting feelings of
guilt and physical desire.

"B-but, this isn't real. This isn't me. I've never cheated on Brett. And this,
this drug, this Mother's Milk - it's like you're trying to make me someone else.
Besides, knowing where it comes from, that you take men's semen, Brett's semen,
by force, and change it into some kind of aphrodisiac for the women here, well,
it's just wrong."

Bridget picked up the drink and offered the remainder to Liz. "We're not trying
to make you someone else, Liz. We're helping you to be yourself. Haven't you
ever wanted sex with a man when your husband wasn't available? Haven't you ever
seen an attractive man and wondered what he would be like in bed? And what did
you do about it? 'Absolutely nothing' would be a very safe bet. That's not being
a woman, Liz, it's being a slave, kept in your place by the judicious use of
guilt and a perverted definition of morality. You can be anyone you want here,
Liz, not just comfortable in your own skin, but deliriously happy in it.

"And our men? Do they look unhappy to you, Liz? They have a good life here.
Those who don't qualify as Bulls adjust quite well to a life without sex. After
a very short time, they don't miss it. They become completely apathetic that the
women go to Bulls for sex. And believe it or not, they acknowledge their
contributions are a fair sacrifice for the idyllic life they enjoy."

Liz took her finger off the photo, accepted the glass from Bridget, and drank.

Bridget smiled, then turned to leave. "I'll be right back. Take a few minutes to
think."

Now alone in the small room, Liz stared at the picture. "My God," she thought,
"if Brett saw me staring at another man's penis like this, he'd..." But
immediately her thoughts changed direction, guided by the growing heat in her
belly, and the tension in her thighs that had become regular, unintentional
contractions pressing gently against the moist lips of her sex. Suddenly the
man's penis was a "cock". It felt daring and exciting merely to allow the word
in her thoughts. His picture seemed to come off the page, posing just for her as
she imagined what his full erection might be like. "It must be so big..." she
thought, "...it's so thick and powerful looking, even before it's hard. My God,
what would it be like to have it inside me, to feel him on top of me, taking me
like an animal? What would it be like - a man so different than Brett - a man
who would just "fuck" me instead of always asking to "make love?"" Again her
thoughts shocked and surprised her - "cock", "fuck" - she never used those
words, even in her thoughts. But now she wanted the man in the picture, more
than she wanted Brett, more than she wanted to be rescued from the island.
Nothing else mattered.

Bridget returned soon, smiling warmly as usual, holding a small rectangular key
card.

"Since it's your first time, I'll show you the way. Are you ready?"

Liz followed Bridget out of the room into a long hallway with door after door on
either side.

"The doors in this wing are lettered, as you can see. A second wing off to the
right has numbers instead, and a third to the left uses a combination of the
two. They have no special meaning really, just find the door that matches the
number or letter on your card. Ah, here we are."

She handed the card to Liz. It was a simple pink plastic rectangle, monogrammed
with a large "L" in swirled script. Liz looked up at the door with an "L" that
exactly matched her card.

"S-so, what do I do now?" she asked nervously.

"You put the card in the door, go inside, and have the best sex of your life,"
Bridget answered with a grin. Liz lowered her eyes, embarrassed that her
uncertainty might be taken as prudishness or rejection of her new sisters.

"But - what do I - how do we - ", Liz stammered. "Don't worry," Bridget assured
her. "Every Bull is highly skilled, both at sex, and at making you feel at ease.
He's aware it's your first time, so he knows just what to do. All you have to do
is be you, and enjoy him, of course. You can't do anything wrong - you're a
Citizen, he's a Bull. And remember, there are many more than you saw in the
pages of the album we made for you - enough to keep you deliriously happy for a
very long time. You'll see."

Bridget winked, turned, and disappeared down the hall, leaving Liz alone with
her little pink card. With a shaking hand and a body burning for sex, she slid
the card into the door and opened it.

LOST



~~6~~

Sex with another man, sex for purely physical pleasure, was easier than Liz
would have ever imagined. He was sprawled on a long sofa in the center of a
large, comfortably appointed room, welcoming her with a smile as she closed the
door behind her. Liz took a few steps toward him and stopped, staring at the
most perfect body she had ever seen. He was naked, one leg hung over the front
of the sofa, the other raised and bent at the knee to expose his steadily
growing erection. Liz was too nervous to speak. She moved closer, letting the
world outside slip away, surrendering completely to the sight of him, and to the
now rigid cock jutting from his bronzed, muscular body.

When he stood, Liz went to her knees as though in a trance, cupping his balls in
one hand and stroking the length of his erection with the other. When the
glistening droplet appeared at the tip, she took him in her mouth. His pre-cum
tasted like honey, his cock like fragrant cardamom. Sucking Brett had always
been not quite a chore, but a favor, something she did to please him in spite of
the salty, slightly bitter taste of his semen, and the seemingly endless time it
took for him to finish. But she sucked the Bull greedily, savoring the tastes
and smells of him, completely lost in the moment as her tongue caressed his
velvety glans. Nothing else mattered to her - her world was his hard belly, his
sinewy thighs, and his beautiful cock that drove her wild as she sucked.

Then, just as she felt the first signs of his impending orgasm, he pulled her to
her feet, carried her to his bed, and lowered his face between her legs. In time
she was oblivious to her own cries and moans that echoed through the room. She
began to whimper, outwardly begging him to fuck her. She used words she had
never used before, never in bed with Brett, never with any other lover in her
past. She cursed at him, ordered him to give her his big cock, to fuck her pussy
and make her come. Finally he rose over her, teasing her, allowing the tip of
his cock to part the lips of her sex slightly, then withdrawing. Each time she
fought his retreat by clutching his ass and pulling him closer, never quite able
to overcome the strength of his straining hips and thighs.

Suddenly, as if she had lost the few seconds that it took him to enter her, he
was fucking her. She was startled at first, overwhelmed by the thickness of the
cock so deep inside her, and by the vision of this perfect man. He hovered above
her at first, making her gasp as she watched his broad chest and powerful
shoulders flex with each thrust. Then the length of his body was glued to hers,
his bare chest pressed tightly against her breasts.

"Why can't it be like this with Brett?" The thought surfaced without warning,
threatening to destroy her steadily building ecstasy with a split second of
guilt. Then, just as quickly, she chased the thought away. "He'll be impotent
soon - and he won't even care. This is what I want - this man, this body, this
cock." As her guilt quickly faded, so did her image of Brett as a man who could
ever physically satisfy her again. In those few seconds, the relationship with
her husband shifted from mate and future father of her children to a sexless,
platonic love. It all seemed so comfortable, so right to Liz. As the effects of
Bridget's tall glass of Mother's Milk spread through her body and the final
acceptance of this metamorphosis swept over her, so did the most fiercely
consuming orgasm of her life.

LOST



~~7~~

As the weeks passed, they settled into their new roles - Liz as an aspiring
member of the Council, and Brett as a subservient house-husband. Each watched
the other's physical changes, but neither Liz nor Brett spoke of them. Brett
noted the subtle increase in size and firmness of Liz's breasts, the narrowing
of her waist, and eventually the prominent outline of her constantly engorged
labia and clitoris beneath the tiny thong. He still felt a pang of jealousy when
they walked together in public, never quite comfortable seeing Liz nearly naked
in front of so many other men. None of them ever seemed to notice her though,
except for the occasional casual glance.

But in spite of any rules or customs, Brett found he was unable to keep his
eyes off the other women. There were so many of them, their firm bodies so
tanned and lean, with an aura that flaunted a proud, unapologetic sexuality.
The only clothing they wore was the tiniest of thongs, mere threads that held
a small, brightly colored scrap of cloth against the pouting labia beneath it,
and the ever-present sandals that laced to just below the knee. It was a sight
too seductive for Brett to ignore. But each time he was caught staring a little
too long, the woman would roll her eyes in disgust, glance at his penis, then
smile slightly to herself as the confident stride of her long legs carried her
away from him. "At least I've never had an erection in public," he mused
thankfully. "I wonder why?"

Liz often stole furtive glances at Brett's penis, amazed and fascinated at how
soon it began to shrink. They had removed his cage after the second milking,
certain that his temporary impotence would make Liz's transition easier. Liz
felt sorry for him, but relieved in a way as well. After only a week of sex with
the Bulls, she doubted he could ever fully satisfy her again, even with his
normal size and vigor. It was better not to let him see the disappointment on
her face if they were to make love, and the diminishing size of his penis would
only have made things worse. She had taken him to be milked eight times over the
first two weeks, driven by her insatiable thirst for sex, the intense
satisfaction the Bulls provided her, and the yet-untapped collection of perfect
bodies and cocks waiting for her at the Stables. Although she knew in time the
milkings would make him permanently impotent, she found some comfort in the
knowledge that Mother's Milk would eventually kill his desire for sex
altogether. "It's a kindness to him, really," she thought. "It's for his own
good, the humane thing to do."

They attended social activities together almost every evening, sometimes
gathering with the others for an opulent luau in the large open gardens adjacent
the Medical Center, and sometimes at smaller parties in their own home or the
homes of neighbors. At the larger events, women socialized in small groups while
their husbands stood nearby, careful to stay within range of their harnesses.
Liz was hugely popular, and in time Brett made a small circle of friends as
well, all husbands with much longer time on the island. He soon learned the men
were just as free to chat among themselves, as long as the subjects of sex or
the women were avoided. Should one forget, a sharp warning from his harness
would serve as an efficient reminder.

As more time passed, Brett increasingly feared what he would become. The men
around him were all extremely lean with hairless bodies, their muscles atrophied
to soft, thin cords beneath tanned skin. Their penises had been reduced to tiny
buds of flesh, barely noticeable above slightly enlarged testicles encircled by
the metal harness. The effect exaggerated the appearance of the scrotum,
presenting it forward, displaying the most valued and vulnerable part of their
body to all women on the island. His penis was still large by comparison, but
had withered to slightly half its normal size, and he hadn't been able to get
hard since they arrived. Whatever the island was doing to him, it seemed
inevitable that he would evolve into one of the many men around him. The
realization was horrifying at first, but easier to accept in time. Liz was still
loving and attentive, even in bed at night, cuddling against him as she slept.
She seemed not to mind that they no longer had sex, and yet she kept her
satisfied smile, even in her sleep.

Smaller gatherings were more comfortable for the men. The perimeter sensors of
the particular home would be programmed to allow all of the men free access to
the entire house and property. There they could sometimes talk quietly away from
their wives for short periods while the women discussed more important matters
of maintaining and governing the island.

One evening, at a neighbor's home, Brett overheard a small group of wives seated
together on the balcony overlooking the thick wall of jungle near the edge of
the city. Vivian, a tall, stunning redhead and most vocal of the group, had
steered the conversation to sex.

"My God, I had the best fuck of my life today at the Stables! I did the new one
- have you seen him, the very young one with the enormous cock?"

They all laughed, fully accustomed to Vivian's scandalous stories of her most
recent sex with a newly discovered Bull.

"Please, Viv," Bridget interrupted with a sly smile, "I think you're
embarrassing Liz."

"Oooooo," came the response from the group, now all looking at Liz with hopeful
grins, waiting for an explanation.

Liz blushed, suppressing her own grin. "Me? Really, I have no idea what you're
taking about..."

"Oh pleeease, Liz. We all know Bridget works there, so, hmmm, maybe you have
something to tell us?" Vivian leaned closer to Liz, her grin now outrageously
evil. "Maybe something about his enormous cock? Been there, done that, Liz?"

The laughter of the others finally broke Liz's attempt to hold back her grin,
and she gave in. "OK, OK, I've been there, done that, Vivian. And yes, he's as
good as you say. Maybe better..."

The group howled with glee. Brett stood in the open doorway, listening to every
word. Liz covered her smile with her hand, surprised and a little embarrassed at
her own words, her firm breasts bobbing as she began to giggle.

"Oh, damn you Liz," Vivian told her, finally recovering enough to speak again.
"You should have told me about him sooner! You wouldn't be trying to keep him to
yourself now, would you?"

Everyone looked at Bridget. She was nodding furiously, again grinning, her
platinum hair bouncing at her shoulders.

Vivian looked back at Liz, playfully feigning shock and disbelief. "You've had
him more than once?"

Liz nodded.

"Twice?" Vivian asked, raising her voice in greater disbelief.

Liz shook her head slowly, now baiting Vivian, staring deeply into her eyes.

Vivian was on her feet now, her eyes even wider. "My God, THREE TIMES?"

Finally, it was Bridget who answered. "Try five."

The group erupted in laughter again until Liz eventually offered her excuse.

"What can I say? I can't help it. He's so good, and so, um, huge..."

Brett turned and walked slowly back through the house as his wife's laughter
assaulted him. Shaken and confused, he found a chair and collapsed into it. He
replayed each word of their conversation, shaking uncontrollably as the pieces
came together. It was why she didn't mind not having sex with him, why she
seemed so satisfied, and why she slept with a smile on her face. He couldn't
chase the image from his mind - Liz lying naked under this young Bull, her long,
pretty legs wrapped around him, his giant cock plunging into her as she moaned
with pleasure. There was a time when he would have felt blind rage at this
embarrassment. Now he felt small and defeated, powerless to intervene, or to
influence Liz in the slightest way. His jealousy and helplessness collided, then
escalated to a paralyzing crescendo. The scene of Liz and her Bull played
repeatedly in his head, until finally his jealousy was eroded to fatigue and
resignation. He was merely a spectator, observing from an impossibly
inaccessible distance as the final thread of Liz's sexual passion for him
unraveled and separated.

The men found him there, his body no longer shaking, his shoulders slumped, his
face pale and slack. They knew the signs all too well - each and every one of
them had fought the same battle and lost. And while their wives talked about
Stables, Bulls, and cock, the men quietly coached Brett on the same subjects
from the only perspective they knew.

"It's not so bad," one of them told him. "In time you'll agree that sex isn't
all that important - and that you probably weren't that good at it to begin
with. It's recreation better suited to women - it's always been that way, and
always will be."

LOST



~~8~~

"We have to talk, Brett."

Brett feared the look on her face. So much had happened over the past month, and
none of it held any hope he would escape his fate - whatever the full
consequences of that fate were. It was clear he was to be merely a slave like
all the other men on the island, but he suspected he had not discovered the
worst of what was to become of him.

"I was summoned to meet with the Council this morning. They explained that we
must earn our keep here, and a big part of that is up to me. I have to give them
a child - a child that will help the community grow and flourish. It's something
every woman here has to do, at least once. Most have had several babies as a
show of belonging and support for the community. If I have a child, I'll be
given a higher position here, and life will be easier for both of us."

Brett was stunned that they would demand a couple's child as an offering. What
kind of life would the baby have here? A girl would be looked upon as one of
their own, but a boy? Would a boy eventually become a simple slave, facing a
life of manual labor and servitude?

"B-but how?" Brett answered. "We haven't - I mean, I haven't been able to have
sex since we got here. I don't know what's wrong with me - I've never been
impotent before. How do they expect us to have a baby?"

Liz looked away for a second, then brought her eyes to meet his.

"Brett, you know I love you dearly."

She paused, waiting for a sign that he believed her. When she saw the proof on
his face, she continued.

"You also know that I go to the Stables several times a week. It's expected of
me if I'm to be part of the community."

Brett fought the anger and humiliation that welled up inside. He remembered the
first time he was taken to the Medical Center, the terror and humiliation as
they strapped him down and drained him while Liz was shown to the Stables for
her first reward. His anger began to erupt dangerously in the heat of the
moment.

"Do you like it, Liz? Do you like picking some random "Bull" and having sex with
him? How many have there been, Liz? Twenty? Fifty? More? Do they get you hot,
Liz? Now that I can't get hard anymore, do they do it for you? Make you come?
Make up for what I can't do?"

Liz touched the small pendant at her side, watched him gasp in pain for a few
seconds, then took two steps back and waited for him to recover. It was the
first time she had used the harness to control him, the first time she felt she
was forced to do so. When she saw his anger melt, she knew it had been the right
thing to do. Liz knew that if the others heard him she'd be expected to punish
him for his disobedience. When he went silent, she went to him and took his
balls in her hand, tucked a finger inside the metal band, and pulled him closer,
cinching his testicles upward, a mild warning that he must stop before suffering
more serious consequences. When she saw him wince, she withdrew her finger,
still cupping his balls lightly in the palm of her hand. The reminder to behave
was her responsibility now, but there was no sense making him suffer needlessly.

If he only knew, she thought to herself, how much pleasure the Bulls gave her,
how much better the sex was than anything she had ever experienced with Brett or
any other man. She did miss sex with Brett, the closeness and intimacy they once
shared in bed, but she found that even in as little time as a month she was able
to love him in a non-sexual way, as a kind of companion rather than a mate.
That, and regular sex with the Bulls seemed a fresh and invigorating way of
life. She was more of a woman than she had ever been, more uninhibited and
confident about who she was. She felt physically stronger as well, healthier and
full of energy every minute of the day. And with that came a constant thirst for
sex - not an obsession, but an ever-present awareness of her invigorated body's
needs. Yes, if he only knew the truth, what would he do? But, what could he do?
He was virtually a slave now, a second-class citizen in a world where, except
for the Bulls, men were kept as companions, pets almost, controlled by their
harnesses, their sexual appetite and ability to perform neutralized as
efficiently as gelding a stallion. Thanks to Mother's Milk, the social order was
assured on the island. Even if the men knew of it and its effects, as long as
they ate the food and drank the water there was nothing they could do about it.

"I'm to choose one of the Bulls to impregnate me. They're chosen to pass on the
most favorable genes to the community. I'm sorry, but the Council would never
let you be the father, even if you could. I meet with the Council tomorrow, at
the Stables. They've picked three of the most genetically superior Bulls for me,
and I'm to choose one of them to be the father. You must accept this. There's
nothing either of us can do about it. I'll have his baby, but you'll still be my
husband, and I'll still love you."

Liz stepped closer to him and put her hand on his bare chest. She could feel his
heart beating wildly, his muscles tense and trembling beneath his soft skin. Her
touch seemed to soothe him, and his pulse quieted. She fingered his genitals
gently, intrigued with how the simple ring of metal snugged his scrotum around
the fragile glands inside. They were like two firm eggs, she thought, so
sensitive and vulnerable, bound within their fragile sack. She marveled at how
at first the cage prevented any sex between them, but now, after a month-long
diet laced with Mother's Milk, only the harness was necessary, and then only to
deliver punishment. Taking the now tiny head of his penis between her fingers,
she raked her nails over it lightly, something that had always made him crazy
with pleasure. When it refused to come to life with even as much as a slight
twitch, she stopped. Looking into his eyes, she let a trace of disappointment
show through her smile.

"Try not to be upset, darling," she purred as she stroked his chest. "We can
still be happy here, if we follow the rules. We can still be husband and wife,
even if sex isn't a part of it. It's just sex. I can get that from a Bull any
time I want. Think of it as just a physical act, a service you can't provide
that I can easily get from any Bull at the Stables. It's the way things are done
here. You know that. Most men from the outside lose the ability to have sex here
on the island. I'm sure you've noticed that your penis is shrinking, just like
all the others. It will probably get even smaller, Brett, and you won't be able
to have erections here. I'll miss that, in a way - having you inside me when
we're in bed together. But we can still be close without sex. We can still be
intimate - you can still please me in other ways. Sex with the Bulls is purely
physical. I love having a penis inside me, having an orgasm with a powerful man
on top of me. I need sex, Brett, more than ever. But your ability to penetrate me,
to satisfy me with your penis, is gone. If you can't learn to accept it, to live
with it, then they might take you from me. They could make you a laborer on the
outskirts of the city. You'd be community property. Who knows how those men are
treated? I may never see you again."

Brett stared at her as she spoke. "You mean they've taken husbands from their
wives to be laborers? Community property? They've told you this? You've never
said..."

"Shhhh - not so loud," Liz whispered. "It's something only Citizens are supposed
to know. I shouldn't have told you, but I don't want them to take you from me.
You don't want that either, do you?"

Brett shivered as the reality of this new society settled in. He could accept
his fate as an impotent servant of a husband, or, be sent to the jungle to live
out the rest of his life as property, laboring under the whims and whips of the
women whose job it was to keep community property in line. It wasn't much of a
choice, but life with Liz was far better than the alternative. "I-I'm sorry," he
whispered. "I didn't know. I don't want to lose you, so I'll try go by their
rules. It's just that it's hard for me - to see you go to other men for sex, to
not be able to satisfy you myself, to not even be considered an equal to you. I
don't know if I can ever accept it, but I'll try. I will. For us."

Liz smiled as they embraced. She had planted the seed the Council had given her,
and it had worked. They had told her that in time, physical means alone would be
insufficient to tame him, and that eventually small portions of fear and
uncertainty would have to be used to control him. She had delivered the lines
just as they had taught her, in response to the exact behavior they told her
would occur. She doubted Brett would ever resort to physical violence, but it
had been in his eyes, just as they had predicted. They were masters of control,
and she was an apt pupil. So if control was necessary, she would do her best to
make Brett a model husband in this new society. But, if she controlled him out
of necessity, why did she feel a sliver of pleasure while doing it? At least for
now, she thought, it was better not to go there.

LOST



~~9~~

The next day was torture for Brett. Liz had slept late, but he rose early,
haunted by bizarre dreams of Liz, her belly swollen to immense proportions as
she continued to be serviced by a waiting line of muscular Bulls that stretched
out their door into the distance. He sat by the bed for a while and watched her
sleep. Her skin took on the hue of a fresh peach in the warm, early morning
light. As her long legs sprawled across the bed sheets, her breasts, now
miraculously firmer and higher on her torso, rose and fell invitingly with each
easy breath. A month ago he would have crept into bed beside her, his cock hard
and ready, her body wet and willing to let him take her. He glanced down at his
lap where the nub of his penis lay shrunken and unresponsive. It seemed to get
smaller every day now. He wondered if it might be some rare disease or hormonal
imbalance. He was losing his manhood in more ways than one, but was powerless to
do a thing about it.

Two Council members had come for Liz just after noon. They left together,
strutting along the curving walk that led from their house to the busy main
street. From a distance, they were triplets, heads held high, thighs flashing in
the bright afternoon light, proud bare breasts jostling slightly as they
disappeared out of sight. Brett stood at the window and watched them leave.
"She's gone to choose the man who will impregnate her, just like that," he
thought, "as though she was going shopping for a new dress." He thought of
escaping on his own, leaving her to the island and the Bulls, but he knew that
he couldn't, that it was only his anger and frustration that made him consider
it. She was still his wife, and still loved him - he was sure of that. But the
island was changing her - into what he wasn't certain.

He looked down at the metal ring circling his genitals. Trying to follow her was
out of the question. A few feet from the house and the perimeter sensors would
activate the device, bringing him to his knees with excruciating pain. Only Liz
could take him for walks, the device on her belt assuring that he stay close to
her as she led him by an invisible leash. He dreaded their daily walks to the
Medical Center - he felt like her pet, a possession that had to be leashed in
public, if for no other reason than to show everyone that Liz was his owner,
that she controlled him completely. It was bad enough knowing that she was being
serviced by a choice Bull while Brett's semen was forcefully extracted and
collected by the two smirking technicians. But learning that his semen was
payment for Liz's sessions at the Stables was the ultimate insult. And, there
was the matter of the semen itself - why did a society of amazons need semen
when they had genetically superior Bulls to inseminate them? Nothing made sense
here - his sudden impotence, Liz's easy acceptance of his subjugation, or her
surprising comfort with her own public nudity and overt sexual behavior. The
women had completely won her over within a day. That they had done it wasn't
just puzzling, it was a violation of their marriage. He had always been the
strong one.

Liz returned just after sundown, accompanied by a group of ten women. Each wore
a brief white wrap about her waist held in place by a woven cord of gold braid.
Brett stared as they entered, backing into a corner to keep his distance. Liz
approached him with two slim, statuesque companions in tow. She rested her hand
lightly on his chest, looked into his eyes, and spoke in a quiet but solemn
voice.

"You must do as you're told tonight. This won't be easy for you, but if you
disrupt things in any way, well, things could be very bad for you. Remember our
talk?"

One of the women standing behind Liz reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Please behave yourself - please?" Liz begged.

As she made her final plea to him they led her away to the bedroom and closed
the door. Immediately, two others took their place beside Brett, each grasping
one of his arms and leading him to a chair in the far corner of the room. As he
sat, one of the women touched the small device at her waist. He gasped as his
harness delivered a dull ache to his testicles. When they showed no sign of
giving him relief, he spoke up.

"What did I do? At least tell me why I'm being punished!"

The tall brunette on his right leaned over and took his harness in her hand. She
pulled until the band encircling his scrotum stretched his balls upward,
intensifying the pain.

"THIS is punishment," she warned him, as she stretched the harness tighter. "So,
will you speak again without being told to speak?"

Brett shook his head quickly, still gasping from the pain. But when she dropped
his harness the deep ache in his groin remained. It wasn't unbearable, but the
pain was enough to remind him of the consequences should he step out of line a
second time. The brunette looked down at him and smiled as she tapped the device
again, just briefly. It sent a burst of searing pain through him, paralyzing him
for a second. It was as though his balls had been momentarily crushed in a vise.
He collapsed back into the chair, panting, knowing that if he uttered a
slightest sound there would be more. When he looked up at her a second time, she
smiled and winked.

Several of the women busied themselves placing lighted candles throughout the
room, then formed a line on each side of the front door. Finally, the tallest of
them, an athletic woman with a thick mane of black hair cascading halfway down
her back led Liz from the bedroom. Liz walked behind her, completely naked, as
though in a trance. Her eyes were wide with a hunger Brett had never seen in
her. He stared at her hardened nipples and engorged labia. She was on fire with
lust, consumed with a heat that made her oblivious to her surroundings.

They had told Liz about the drugs they would give her - one to inflame her lust,
and another to enhance her fertility. They had promised that her pregnancy was
assured if she followed their instructions and participated in their ritual. All that
was left to do was choose her Bull, one of three that had been matched to Liz's
own genetic makeup, one who's DNA would combine with hers to produce a child
worthy of their society.

She had been taken to a special section of the Stables, one reserved for
matings. All Bulls in the recreational wing of the Stables had been sterilized.
They were chosen for their looks and performance, not for their genes.
But Breeder Bulls in the mating wing were fed fortified food and hormones that kept
them highly potent, ready to create offspring at the whim of any woman wishing
to contribute to the island's population. The Bulls lived in luxury compared to other
men, prized specimens that took generations to refine using the Council's advanced
knowledge of genetic manipulation and selective breeding. Their libidos were
kept in check using the onsite pharmacy, until of course, they were flooded with
sex hormones just before a breeding. But even during their repressed libido
phase, the Breeder Bulls' semen was highly concentrated with sperm, and those
sperm were nearly indestructible. Even though the women who fed and cared for
them were careful to wear protective gloves and clothing to prevent unwanted
pregnancies, every year there seemed to be at least one attendant who found
herself with child in spite of their best efforts to prevent accidents.

After winding through a maze of corridors, Liz had been taken to an empty room
with large one-way windows on three of the walls. Each of the windows allowed
a view of the individual living quarters of three Breeder Bulls. "Take all the time
you need," they told her. "Any of them will make a superior child. Choose one
that appeals to you. An intense orgasm on your part will increase the odds of
success. They're all attractive, in their own way. But if several matings are
required, well, we like to make the effort as pleasurable as possible. Just push
the call button by the door when you've made a selection and we'll escort you
out - it's a high security area, for obvious reasons." They filed out, the door
closed with the snap of the magnetic lock, and Liz was left alone to choose the
father of her first child.

They were right - she found all three of the men more than merely attractive.
Their bodies were perfectly proportioned, with the same smooth, dark, golden
brown skin as so many of the children on the island. Although distinctive, each
had the chiseled facial features that would have made him a wildly popular
celebrity off the island. Just watching any of the three of them had her pulse
racing - it was mesmerizing. She moved from window to window for over an hour,
unable to take her eyes off them. From the breathtaking eyes, bright with
intelligence and charm, to their beautiful cocks, thick and perfectly sculpted,
even in semi-erection, any of the three could have taken her then and there,
giving her a baby she would have been proud of. She finally made her decision,
a slim, athletic man whose face seemed to make love to her through the glass.
She thought back to the party where she had seen Brett for the first time,
how she had chosen him for the same reason, those kind eyes that made love
to her across the crowded room.

As she turned to leave, she peered into the third window and stopped,
unexpectedly held there. Although she had spent equal time watching Bull 3, she
hadn't given him equal consideration. He was larger than the others, at least
six inches taller and heavily muscled, his wide shoulders and thick chest
narrowing to a washboard stomach. Between his immense thighs hung a penis larger
than she had ever seen or imagined. She had been intimidated at first. Liz had
never been attracted to large men, the bodybuilders or popular athletes that
some women swooned over. Now she couldn't take her eyes off him. What would it
be like, she thought, to be taken by a man like that - to feel the strength in
his powerful body as he made love to her? To come, with his tight, muscular ass
in her hands, his massive thighs and hips thrusting beyond her control, his
thick, monstrous cock buried deeply inside her?

"My God. He's the one."

It was her own voice, but she could hardly believe it as it echoed of the bare
walls of the observation room. "What am I doing?" she thought. "Am I choosing
another husband, or a man who can get me pregnant? Do I want him to make love,
or to simply, well, fuck me until I come?"

The thoughts shocked her for an instant, but she knew it was true. They had
tried for five years to have a baby, without success. Testing just weeks before
their cruise had confirmed that Brett was almost sterile, with a sperm count that
lowered their chance of success to nearly zero. The cruise was their final attempt,
one last romantic hope that they might get lucky before seeking help from a fertility
clinic. Now, why couldn't she have both - a husband that could still make love to her
with his eyes, and a gorgeous, virile man who could fuck her in her bed and give her
the baby she wanted? There would be no emotional baggage with this choice -
Bull 3 was a walking, breathing, sex machine - Brett was her husband, her one true
love. She went to the door, pressed the call button, and gave them her decision.

Now she stood waiting, surrounded by the Council, craving not just to have sex,
but to be bred to the Bull of her choosing. Part of her was fired by the need to
be taken by the most powerful, virile man she had ever laid eyes on, but another
part was consumed by her need for a child, to feel her belly grow large and
round with life, created from the seed that would assure that her child would be
equally beautiful and strong.

Brett stared as two of the women led the Bull through the door between the
waiting lines of Council members assembled there. Not only was the Bull immense,
but he was the first man Brett had seen on the island who wasn't controlled by a
harness. The length and girth of the Bull's erection made Brett groan,
completely forgetting his instructions, and the punishment that went along with
disobeying. He trembled as the words left his lips, a deep, almost inaudible,
"Ohhh noooo - please, noooo..." The pain was immediate, throwing him back in the
chair, a pain that felt as if his balls were being torn from his body. Brett's
mind was reeling - the Bull was impossibly huge - how could Liz ever take all of
him? He could see from the Bull's agitated state that he was in a breeding
frenzy. His huge testicles were sperm factories working overtime, making the
seed that he would soon spew into Liz's belly. He would flood her cervix and
womb with millions of tiny invaders, each a hundred times more able than his own
to find her egg and penetrate it. The reality hit him squarely in the gut -
another man would be the father of Liz's baby, not Brett. As he watched the Bull
approach her, he could see it was inevitable. And he would have to watch them
mate, witness the very second when she would become pregnant for the first time.

Liz knelt before the Bull, taking his throbbing erection in her hands, stroking
him lightly with her fingertips, teasing him, coaxing his cock to grow even
larger and harder. She glanced up at his face now and then to make eye contact,
assuring him that she was in heat and wanted to be taken. She cupped his balls
in her hands and licked him - at first in small circles over the swollen head of
his cock, then longer, more attentive traces along the underside from balls to
the tip. Within minutes, the Bull's cock was shiny with her saliva, the long,
tortuous veins along its side bulging and pulsing, the fluted head oozing thick
droplets of pre-cum that coated her fingers and lips.

When the time was right, two of the women lifted Liz to her feet, guiding her
slowly away from the Bull toward the bedroom. The Bull followed, now bathed in
sweat and panting, his giant cock jutting forward as though determined to find
the welcoming slit between Liz's legs and dump its seed into her.

As the rest of the Council filed into the bedroom behind the Bull, Brett's two
chaperones pulled him to his feet and led him in as well. Brett felt the nagging
pain in his testicles increase as one of the women tapped the device at her side
once again. Now it was almost unbearable, so intense that he doubled over as
he walked. It required all his concentration not to cry out in pain. After guiding
him to a far corner of the room, the taller of the two, a stunning brunette,
whispered in his ear.

"It can get better or worse for you. We can fry your balls, or you can watch in
relative comfort - it's up to you."

Brett's breath came in short gasps. He struggled to respond, and finally
whispered with all the effort he could summon, "I'll watch them - I'll watch..."
The dark-haired Amazon smiled at him, then brought her lips close to his ear a
second time. "So, you've accepted your place? You've accepted that your wife's
Bull will sire her first child, and you approve?"

Brett looked on in horror as Liz lay back on the bed. Spreading her long legs,
she looked directly into the Bull's eyes, raised her arms to him, and motioned
for him to come closer. What was happening to her? Brett knew she had visited
the Stables, and that she had used the Bulls there for recreational sex. Now he
was forced to face the reality, not only that she wanted sex with the Bull, but
that she wanted his baby. Suddenly the pain doubled.

"P-please, please - no more," he gasped, cringing in agony. "I accept it. I
accept it all."

The brunette smiled with satisfaction, stepped to one side, and the pain
lessened to a barely detectable level.

The Bull now stood at the foot of the bed, centered between Liz's outstretched
legs. Brett looked for a sign that the events were orchestrated, that Liz might
merely be playing a part in some bizarre fertility ritual. The possibility
brought a sliver of hope to him. What if that was the intention, to show her
superior position and his submissive role in this matriarchal society? He knew
Liz would never really agree to be bred by an anonymous brute. Surely she would
have Brett's baby, or none at all. He refused to believe she would go through
with this - he knew her that well.

In a single swift lunge, the Bull climbed between her legs and sank his immense
cock into her, burying it to the hilt as he snorted and panted in an
uncontrollable heat. It happened in a split second, taking Brett by surprise. He
began to tremble, suddenly filled with fear and humiliation. Then in an instant,
the humiliation vanished, replaced with a conscious desire to avoid more pain,
pain that the brunette had promised might "fry his balls".

The Bull plunged into Liz, battering her with his muscular hips. Her body eagerly
accepted the tremendous jolts. She clutched his giant biceps with both hands,
her eyes wide, her grunts now audible with each of the Bull's strokes. Her body
looked so small under him, Brett thought. From where he sat, only her slim arms
and legs were visible, the Bull's hulking torso completely covering her. Now and
then her face would appear, partially hidden by a portion of matted hair, her
eyes closed, her lips parted slightly in a satisfied smile.

With Liz positioned directly between the Bull's monstrous thighs, Brett saw his
thickly veined cock skewer Liz over and over. Like a giant piston, it pumped
tirelessly, the egg-sized testicles a constant reminder of the Bull's potency.
Brett was shocked to see that she took all of him, every inch. He feared the
Bull's girth must be stretching her painfully, but then saw that she was
swallowing him up, her engorged labia clutching the pulsing column of meat
as it withdrew, and again as it plunged back inside her. At that very moment
it became clear to Brett that this wasn't just a symbolic ritual - it was likely
Liz would become pregnant before his eyes. He sank back into the chair, his
shoulders slumped, his body much like a pale, shrinking balloon as the air slowly
escaped. He was powerless to prevent what was about to happen. Each of
the Bull's violent thrusts brought the moment closer when Liz would welcome
his sperm and get her wish, to carry a growing child in her womb.

Suddenly the Bull let out a series of loud forceful grunts. Brett watched in
horror as a thick, white froth began to form at the base of the Bull's cock,
leaking slowly from the engorged lips of Liz's sex. But the Bull didn't slow his
assault - in fact he became more frenzied, pumping faster and with greater
force. Brett shuddered as he watched a river of semen flow from Liz, soaking the
bed sheets under her. The Bull paused, catching his breath, his cock still
completely buried in Liz's belly. Then, as if they were the only ones in the
room, Liz moved her hands to his ass and pulled his hips more tightly against
her. Looking up at the Bull, she begged in a quiet but desperate voice, "Please,
give me a baby. Please." Her words brought the Bull back to life. He began
again, thrusting and panting as though he had just begun to fuck her. Within
minutes, his semen flowed from her a second time. Brett saw the taught muscles
of her legs begin to twitch, at first clutching the Bull, then shaking
uncontrollably as her long, low orgasmic moan filled the room.

Witnessing her orgasm with the Bull was a devastating blow. Although Brett knew
she visited the Stables for sex, he had never allowed himself to visualize it,
and had made himself believe that Liz did it because she was expected to, not
because she preferred the Bulls to him. Now he knew firsthand, the reality of
her new desires thrown in his face as the constant nagging ache in his groin
reminded him not to show his despair. Brett could see Liz wanted this Bull - she
craved sex with him, she celebrated the sensation of his body against hers, she
lost herself deeply and completely in the orgasm he gave her, but most of all,
she wanted his baby. Now, Brett realized, she would get her wish. The Bull's
semen was everywhere, still flooding her, pouring from between her legs, soaking
the bed under her. He was helpless to prevent it, impotent again in his attempts
to give her a baby himself.

Liz clung to the Bull after he finished, as though she might coax the last few
drops of semen from him as he lay on top of her. All but two of the women filed
silently from the room, leaving Liz and her Bull gasping for breath on the bed.
Brett sat between his tall chaperones, shivering from both the cool night air
and the unrelenting ache in his groin.

Minutes passed. The Bull came to life again, sinking his cock into Liz with
long, powerful strokes. Liz took him in her arms again, moaning with each
thrust as the sounds of their lovemaking assaulted Brett in the dark of night.
The Bull came again, grunting with his low resonant voice - and within seconds,
it was Liz who cried out, almost laughing with joy as she let her second
orgasm wash over her.

And so it was through the night - for hours Brett dozed during their quiet
periods, and lowered his head in shivering defeat during their repeated fuck-
sessions that would ensure Liz would carry the Bull's baby by morning.

At dawn, two Councilwomen entered and pulled the Bull off the bed. As they led
him past Brett and out of the room, he saw that the Bull looked completely
drained, almost unable to walk. He was no longer erect, but his giant cock hung
like a thick, wet eel, still glistening with a mixture of semen and Liz's
juices. Brett's stomach churned as he was forced to compare the Bull's potent
weapon to the small nub that lay throbbing in pain between his own legs.

After the Bull was ushered out, the remaining Council members surrounded the
bed, at first offering their congratulations to a recovering but smiling Liz,
then helping her off the bed. Liz went to Brett, slowly, still a bit unsteady on
her feet. He began to tremble as he looked up at her. She was smiling, filled
with joy, her face stunningly radiant as she stood naked before him, her body
drenched from belly to mid-thigh with the Bull's semen. One of the women
crouched behind her, catching the sticky strings of semen that escaped from
between Liz's legs in a funnel-shaped glass container. Using what appeared to be
a large tampon, she swabbed the inside of the container, then inserted the
cottony plug into Liz's gaping vagina, sealing the remaining sperm inside.

Liz looked down at him, gently taking his face in her hands.

"Be happy for me, darling. I've wanted this for so long. Does it really matter
that much who the father is? Here, I don't need you for that, so you can finally
stop all that worrying about your weak sperm. Here, I can have a baby whenever I
want - and I want lots of babies, sweetheart, lots and lots of babies."

Brett felt dizzy. His vision began to fade, as though he was looking up at Liz
through a darkened tunnel. Her voice seemed distant, fading in and out as he
struggled to make out her words...

"...waited for so long...don't need you for that...your weak sperm...whenever I
want...lots of babies...lots of babies...lots of babies...".

Finally, as her face vanished altogether and her words faded into silence, the
only remaining sensation was the lingering ache between his legs. As a quiet
black void settled over him, even the pain melted away.

LOST



~~10~~

Liz edged through the partially open front door, shutting it quickly behind her.
She was still shivering a little from the stinging cold of the mid-January
Chicago afternoon. Brett woke suddenly, still trembling from the most bizarre
dream he had ever experienced. He had been in front of the computer, working on
his novel, and must have drifted off. He watched Liz unbutton her coat after
dropping the familiar blue gym bag.

"Good workout?" Brett asked from the adjacent den.

Liz jumped at the sound of his voice, then turned and smiled at him.

"My God, you scared me. I thought you were going in today to go over that new
author's galleys."

Brett had worked as an editor at the same publishing house for nine years. He
had finished his first novel after the first two, and was finally a few months
into his second. He adjusted his glasses and grinned.

"You look a little disheveled. Trying to outdo those muscle-heads again?"

He stood and went to her, putting his arms around the heavy bundle of sweater
and coat.

"Hmmm, up close, you're not so bad."

Liz laughed and wriggled free.

"Behave yourself. I'm all sweaty. I have to get my gym clothes into the wash and
I need a hot shower to get rid of the shivers."

He watched her shed her coat and head for the bedroom. Pregnancy agreed with
her. She was radiant and happy, more so than he had ever seen her. He had second
thoughts about her going to the gym after she had conceived, but her doctor had
given the green light for moderate exercise. She spent much less time there once
she was pregnant, but he could tell she still enjoyed an occasional good
workout. And, there was this sexy aura about her afterwards - the damp tousled
hair, the confident, satisfied sparkle in her eyes - even the slightly musky
smell of her sweat made Brett think of her new lithe, firm body, and her
admirable dedication to her sessions at the gym that seemed to lift her spirits
immediately after each visit,

Liz had purchased the membership at a local health club six months ago and
persuaded Brett to go with her. He went reluctantly, but never took to it. His
wiry body resisted much progress with either weights or the machines, and the
beefy "muscle-heads", as he called them, only made him more self-conscious. It
was unsettling to see the way some of them looked at Liz as well, and when he
complained to her, she just laughed, telling him how cute it as that he was
jealous. Work on his book became a regular excuse to go less frequently, and
eventually he quit altogether. Liz became addicted to it though, and was proud
of the changes in her body. It seemed to make her happier and more self-
confident, and maybe, he thought, it would somehow increase the likelihood that
she might get pregnant.

But it hadn't, at least right away. He watched her become a slave to the gym,
coming home sweaty and exhausted almost every night, showering, and falling
asleep early, always too tired for sex that night. She's overcompensating, he
thought - taking out her frustration at not being able to conceive. All her
friends were envious of her new body and teased her about becoming such a
"hottie", but Brett considered the underlying motivation and was more troubled
with each pound she shed.

Then suddenly, a little over two months ago, Liz surprised him with a vacation
cruise, a romantic getaway for couples only on a luxury yacht. Small and
intimate, with quarters for only four couples and a small crew, Liz thought it
the perfect way to make a baby. Brett had been appreciative, but had gently
warned her that romantic surroundings don't make up for a low sperm count. She
had never blamed him for that, but still had hopes that by some miracle they might
conceive naturally before contacting a fertility clinic. He was surprised by her
frantic insistence to try the cruise. It was as though her life depended on it,
so he agreed to go.

They made love every day while at sea, sometimes twice. Liz was insatiable -
coaxing and pleading with Brett to come inside her as they made love in the tiny
cabin. Then afterward, she'd tell him, "I have this feeling - I just know I'm
going to get pregnant this time." Brett could see that she was begging him to
believe it as well - the intensity in her eyes almost demanded he believe. So he
pretended to believe. It seemed that to Liz, everything was at stake.

Two weeks later, Liz announced joyously one morning that she was pregnant. She
had the proof in her hand - a home pregnancy test with a little blue plus sign.
Brett was stunned, and a little shaken, but just as happy as Liz. How could she
have known the cruise would be the answer? Still, he was sure they had just been
lucky, a one-in-a-million chance, as the doctor put it. They must have beaten
the odds.

Liz reappeared after her shower wrapped in a giant bath towel, her damp hair
clinging to her shoulders and neck.

"Am I showing yet?" she asked, as she lifted the front of the towel to expose
her belly, still rosy from the hot water.

Brett turned and stared. Her belly was as flat as ever. Still, seeing her naked
below the waist in broad daylight was a stunning but rare surprise - they almost
always made love in the dark. Her pubic hair seemed thinner, as though it had
been trimmed, making the lips of her sex appear larger and fuller than he
remembered. Probably just something that happens during pregnancy, he told
himself.

"I'm not sure, but you're absolutely beautiful, if that counts," he told her,
grinning from ear to ear.

"I don't think you're looking at my belly!" she scolded with a grin.

With a mock-indignant flounce she turned her back, flashing a glimpse of her
bare ass as she headed back to the bedroom.

"Oh, by the way, I think I'll cut back on the exercise for a while," she said as
she looked back over her shoulder. "I'm tired of going so often - kind of burnt
out, I guess. Anyway, I can always go back if I need it. I mean, if I get the
itch."

She shot him a Cheshire-like grin and vanished around the corner.

Brett smiled and shook his head, wondering how anyone could possibly "get the
itch" to exercise, and how a dream, no matter how impossible, could seem so
real.



~~The End~~

Yes, unusual but captivating. Well told.
Neat twist at the end.

I'm telling you all, Don is one of the best you'll ever read. Seriously. I just wish he'd write a book (never told you that before Don, but yeah).

SamWarrens wrote:Yes, unusual but captivating. Well told.
Neat twist at the end.

Thanks, Sam. I have tried to write for both camps, hotwife couples and cuckolds, but I never know how the more extreme stuff will play. Many of the ideas have been requests from one or both spouses of couples with varied fantasies, but the idea has to hold some interest for me to flesh it out into a story. It's more work than many understand. I rarely do requests anymore due to lack of time, and many of the ideas stay dormant and germinate for months (or years) so it isn't fair for me to promise results in a reasonable amount of time. It's also why I don't post a serial chapters anymore before it's completed. It always disappoints those waiting impatiently for more chapters, allows for plot holes that can't be corrected, and pisses off everyone if it's never fully completed.

Don

DavidnDaria wrote:I'm telling you all, Don is one of the best you'll ever read. Seriously. I just wish he'd write a book (never told you that before Don, but yeah).

Heh - some of my initial work was almost book-length. But I was twenty years younger with a lot more time and energy! These days my career can be all-consuming, and I'm actually a scientist, NOT a writer, so writing isn't a natural talent. For me, a serious commitment to writing would require at least two things - an editor and a muse. I had both twenty years ago, and it was still work.

For me, the actual writing is about 30% of the work and 90% of the fun. Spilling raw ideas onto the page, drunk or sober, is creation and discovery. It's living in the characters' skin, speaking for them, taking personal responsibility for each character's POV and testing it against the others'. Generous amount of alcohol can lead down delightfully unexpected paths.

Editing, revising, and excising precious meat from your newly born child is often gut-wrenchingly difficult. "Show, don't tell" is a reminder that's always lurking there in the shadows. It's where a proven, trusted editor is gold. Taking advice, even from him, is often painful, but almost always makes the story better. Learning this, to trust his judgement as a neutral reader, is one of the most painful introductions to writing. My editor back then was much more experienced than I, and his patience was invaluable. Working together as a team for long periods made it easier, but it's still often hard to give up a word, sentence, or paragraph that you once thought was "brilliant". A good editor lets you know that you may be the only one who thinks so. He's usually right.

A muse - well, that's another long story. Mine was a female writer with an exotic and unlimited imagination. Both sexy and funny, she was my motivation, often every day, until her unexplained disappearance. She was a good friend, and is very seriously missed to this day.

So, I love that some things I write speak to you, Dave. I love all the generous feedback - it's the only "pay" writers like me have received over the years. At the same time, I know that a serious book that appeals to a wide audience is far beyond my abilities, patience, and energy. At my age I've also learned that allowing a hobby you love to become real work always destroys the delight you once found in it.

Don

Don,

Well, you can't say I didn't ask. I remember your telling me about your muse and your editor in conversations we had. It was a shame your muse suddenly disappeared. Time is a big thing. I understand. In the meantime, it doesn't lessen the fact that you have a very, very rare talent and I hope you share the "jar" story soon.

Dave