                                  Lost

                            by Night Writer

                               Chapter 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. She 
was naked, her arms and legs 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. 



                                 Chapter 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. Our way of life here is much different 
than the one 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, again by simple status of their sex. 

"Our men's natural hormonal instincts for aggressiveness are 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 of 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 removed. 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. 



                                 Chapter 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 a circle of tiny sharp 
spikes near 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. 

                                    ~~*~~

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, 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 
the man 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 unintimidating 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 to 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 with 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 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."

A technician attached electrodes to his buttocks, perineum and 
testicles. Liz grimaced as she then 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 electrodes stimulate the pelvic nerves that 
control ejaculation. 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 
and stored." 

"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 after the first one or two milkings. After that, the 
process begins to stress the nerves responsible for orgasm. 
Eventually, the nerves fail completely, and orgasms never occur. The 
procedure simply expels the 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 many 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. The more you'll 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."



                               Chapter 4

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 upward 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 round 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 several 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, and 
after that you'll receive credits 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 soon enough." 

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. 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. 

"Is this - it? Mother's Milk? Is this why I feel so, um, tempted to 
do this?" Liz stared at the glass now, as though she might see some 
trace of the semen that gave the liquid magic its potency. 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. The men not only know we go to the 
Bulls for sex, they completely accept it. 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 "D" in swirled script. Liz looked up at the 
door labeled with a "D" 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. 



                               Chapter 5

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  
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.  And with the heightened concentration of Mother's Milk surging 
through her body, the final acceptance of this metamorphosis swept 
over her, as did the most fiercely consuming orgasm of her life. 



                               Chapter 6

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. 

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 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."



                               Chapter 7

"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. 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. 



                               Chapter 8

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 fanned 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 taped 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 earlier that afternoon 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 practically 
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 mating. All Bulls in the recreational wing of the Stables had 
been sterilized. They were chosen for their looks and performance, 
not for their genes. 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. These 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 such 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, 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 their 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, choosing Bull 2, 
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 
off 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 in her home, 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 - 
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. 

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 this wasn't just a symbolic ritual, 
that 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 her climax, 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, five, then fifteen. 
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. Within minutes 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. 



                         Epilogue - Chapter 9

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 teased.

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, and 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. He watched her become a slave to the gym, coming home 
sweaty and exhausted almost every night, showering, and falling 
asleep early. 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, at the last minute, 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.  

Four 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. The lips of her sex appeared larger and fuller 
than he remembered, and matched the rosy red blush of her belly. 
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~~


