The Fall of the Feminine

[SoftGameHunter]

Teaser: Humanity hangs by a thread. Men huddle in their stockades as the last bastion of civilization while roving bands of feral women roam the land. They prey on one another at will in a complex ritual of mating and violence. Does the future hold any hope, or is humanity destined to scrounge its way to a final doom?
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
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Title: The Fall of the Feminine
Author: SoftGameHunter

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Another oldie of the archives. I think this was an RC contest entry once.
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The Fall of the Feminine


It was like a dream-state. He paused, heart pounding, senses on fire, listening, watching. They were out there, circling, hunting by scent and sound. Feral. Vicious. Not deadly, but the next worst thing. And in the end, maybe deadly too. He was alone out there, cut off from the team. A man in the wild without the team was lost, and the women had him surrounded. He tried to lay low, to hear them. They were out there, just past his conscious senses. He could feel them lurking, hovering, coming for him. They had his mark now. They could smell his erection as he tried to evade them. If they caught sight of him, that would be the end. He had nothing. No weapons. No clothing. Just him, naked and defenseless, hunted by the women. Stalked by the creatures of lust. Unwashed. Unheeding. Unmindful of their former humanity. They would rape him half to death. Their nails would shred his skin. Their teeth would chew on him alive. If he was alive at the end of their rampage, he could crawl back to the stronghold, missing a hundred mouthfuls of his flesh, bones broken, teeth broken, eyes broken. The first rule of going outside was, with good reason, don’t get separated!

Rafael woke with a start, sitting upright, sweat soaking his bed linens. His hand shot out, seeking the comfort of the barracks wall. And then to his body. The scars were there. The mangled bits of flesh. But they were old scars now. Healed. Healed but never forgotten.

“Did you draw the hunt?” It was the voice of Jim, two bunks over.

“Tomorrow,” Rafael replied softly.

“The pep makes your dreams wonky. Yours especially.”

“Uh huh. I’m fine.”

“Nah, you’re not fine. Can’t be. But you will be. Everyone is, pretty much.”

“Happy thoughts.”

“Exactly.”

Soon Jim’s light snore returned. It was quiet in the barracks again.

Six centuries took their toll on society. While womankind fell into barbarism, mankind fared better but lessened by the experience. Millions of years of evolutionary mating practices cannot be discarded in so few generations without generating chaos and conflict that can scarcely be predicted with any accuracy. Each new war, each environmental catastrophe, each global cataclysm came without warning as the men of the world watched their women slide away from them. The genome was broken.

“You’ve done this before. You ain’t some kid,” elder Markus said. “Hell, you’ve seen as bad as it can get, and that’s more than most of us. You’ll do fine. And remember the poon tang you’ll get before the day is out. First dibs, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” Raphael said quietly. He hadn’t seen as bad as it could get, and everyone knew it. But it wasn’t for anyone to say out loud. Broken concentration meant men got killed. At dawn, they were gathered, and at the appointed time they filed out one of the stockade gates, the team of twelve. They walked silently but carefully into the woods, trudging through the first mile.

“Time to begin. We’ve got your back,” Markus said.

Raphael nodded and removed his robe. He was naked. All eyes were averted. Six centuries of enforced company of men living with men had only enhanced a brazen heterosexuality. The lust of virtually all men was focused laser-like out into the primordial forests where the women ranged, themselves naked and savage. In need of taking and taming and trouncing. But ritual and responsibility loomed, and his erection, enhanced by the pep, was already ready for the hunt. His masculine pheromones were in overdrive. His body on display. His cock inviting every woman that might lay eyes on it and slobber lustfully.

He took off. “Starting east,” was all he said out loud. Soon his companions were out of sight. If all went well, he would be in sight of at least one of them at all times. Things usually went well. Nine times out of ten. And for the rest…

He walked, quickly, pacing himself, not wearing himself down. He tried for silence, setting a wide, slightly arcing loop towards the north. The cool air put his senses on overdrive. His cock was throbbing almost painfully. Even in the cool air his nutsack was sweaty. Every feral female in a mile could probably smell him. And they would want him. The only question is if they could be lured out.

He stopped several times. They were out there. His friends, but the women too. He could catch sight of them, a slight branch shake here, a crunch of pebbles there. They were crafty but uncoordinated. They hunted as a pack but had no true pack mentality. They were still humans. And with limited language they couldn’t hunt like a tribe, nor as a true pack. But they had numbers.

The devolution of the female entailed no loss of brain capacity. They did not revert to apes nor to anything known in evolutionary history. Their brain damage was not even genetic. The leading theories in the years when medicine still thrived favored a prion-virus mutation. It attacked limited regions of the brain, but it attacked them well. Savage, primal lust and rage competed with terror and paranoia for their conscious attention. Nothing was stronger in a female’s mind than to find and rape a man. Rape him half to death and beyond, in groups if possible. And then to feed on his flesh. But if nothing was stronger, a close second was terror and the fear of being trapped, which is exactly what the men had to do. Luring one or more females into a trap became the most advanced hunting knowledge mankind possessed.

No hunt was guaranteed success, and Raphael knew it. He also knew everyone would judge him. He would be called a coward. Certainly any man that didn’t want to risk it could find ways to subtly warn the women off. Not with threats, but by appealing to their fear nonetheless. But that, he was certain, would be the end of it. No advancement. No leadership potential. No private quarters. And certainly no mat-mat when he got older. He ended up, therefore, down at the beach. The rocky beach wasn’t easy on his feet. The women, running around naked their whole lives, wouldn’t care about the rocks. They would see him as cornered. And they’d have plenty of time with him. He could feel his heart pounding, rushing blood through his head. He had to trust his companions to cross the distance fast enough while still luring the women out far enough. And during that time…

There was no faking the fear. The women thrived on it. Just as they thrived on the smell of his crotch, sweating into the forest air for hours now. As he stood near the water at the low tide, he began to see them emerge. It looked like a dozen of them. Mostly pale, but with a few light darkies mixed in. Their hair was groomed after a fashion, and they were dirty but not utterly filth-encrusted. Not most of them. Two of them to his left seemed to have fallen especially far. Naked, all of them, with sleek, firm muscles running up and down their toned bodies. Their grins of victory mixed with slobber and hissing. And most of them had their juices leaking out of their cunts. They wanted sex, badly. They were out of the woods now, circling around, surrounding him. They were closing in. A hundred feet. Seventy-five. Fifty. Technically he could try to swim for it, but they were known to be swimmers. He saw no sight of his backup. Nor should he. But they were grinning lasciviously at him now, licking lips, crudely grabbing their own crotches. “Male,” one of them hissed. It sounded more guttural and human, but she could say the word. Male, which he was. And they weren’t. They hunted males. Hunted, impregnated via, and then disposed of dead or alive.

“Stay back!” he said. Backup or no, he cringed at the thought of these creatures getting at him. Again. “I’m warning you! You bitches! I’m warning you!” he shouted.

Twenty feet. Ten. One pounced. The rest followed.

Evolutionarily speaking, females gang-raping males is a non-event. Females can always offer sex and find willing partners. The lone female rapist is an aberration. Females might gang up for other purposes. The female gang killing is unusual, but happens. The female rape gang is essentially unknown until modern times with the fall and the reconstruction of some semblance of society.

Raphael was buried under the female flesh as they pounded him down onto the rocky ground. He felt the first warmth of pussy. It enveloped his cock, wrapping around it tightly and squeezing as it pressed down. He couldn’t even see it, and he heard only the frenzied screams of the female hunting party. One sat with her cunt over his face, grinding into him. He felt her slapping him. “Sock lock! Sock lock!” Suck, and lick. Before they could hit him with a rock, he thrust his tongue out into the female’s snatch, licking the lustrous funkiness from her hole. His cock, though, after so many hours, was ready to blow. He might, he knew, cum before the females could be captured. He felt his balls rumbling, readying to blow. To fill and plant a baby in one of the savage creatures. And he did, grunting and spewing his cum into her as she rode him hard.

He felt a bite. On his leg. He screamed as the teeth dug in and bit him bad. But then he heard lower pitched shouting from all around. The females had been surrounded, caught completely off guard. With the ocean on one side, no one was looking inland. And now the men were there, nets flying, clubs swinging, iron clanking. The females tried to scatter. The cunt on his cock was quickly yanked off him, almost hurting as the suction was broken. He lay there gasping for breath, clutching his injured leg where a chunk of muscle and skin hung barely connected by more muscle and skin. And around him they finished the hunt.

“Nine! We got nine of them!” his friend Jim was shouting, rushing over to him. “Seventy-five percent capture! Brilliant, Raffi, brilliant!” Seventy-five percent. It was indeed astounding. He’d never been on a hunt with better than ten percent capture. Usually they mostly scattered and the men focused on one or two, perhaps three. The beach had been risky, and some of the risk played out, but the haul!

A man that is captured by a female rape-gang faces a long road back to physical and mental health. The trauma of the gang rape, no matter how much bravado a male puts on about enjoying it, is overwhelming. The feral, savage female is more beast than human in temperament and action. She rapes and she rapes hard. Penile injuries are not unknown, though the use of pep keeps the male member in hunting parties as stiff as possible. She also scratches. She bites. She bites off flesh and eats it, usually while her pack sisters are taking their turn at the rape. Most of them feast after taking the man’s sperm in her belly, but a few get greedy and eat before sex. A man nearing the end of his gang rape is in a dire situation indeed. When the lure-man’s backup hunting party fails for any reason, he can be physically and emotionally crippled.

Wheaton was serving as hunt medic, and he got Raphael’s wound disinfected and bound up. “It won’t be as bad as the other scars,” he assured him. “No one will even notice this one.”

“Come along, enough of that!” Markus said, walking over and slapping Raphael on the shoulder. “You’ve done it, boy. You’ve achieved the ultimate fame! From the low to the high, eh? Come on, you get the privilege of first fuck. Which one do you want to start with? Hell, name your order.”

He walked along the upper beach, away from the rocks and more secluded from view. The females were screaming, frothing, and thrashing about, but they were each bound spread eagled on the ground, tied to trees or boulders or stakes in the dirt. But they were helpless, vulnerable, sexy, and his to choose from. With the horror of the hunt behind him, Raffi now felt his fear fading fast and his lust building in its place. These nine females had just tried to rape and devour him. They wanted to get pregnant by his cum and then eat him. Well, they had the first goal in common anyway. He looked them over. They were young, vital, vigorous females. And their cunts still flowed with their lusties. They were enraged, probably terrified and just not showing it, but they were also unbelievably horny.

“Start with her,” he said, pointing to a buxom redhead, grinning at her as he let his eyes roam over her body. Even in her dull state, she got his meaning just fine and shrieked at him. “Let’s see,” he continued.

“That there’s the one that got you in the attack,” Markus said, pointing to a muscular black-haired girl. Raphael gazed at her. Yeah, she looked like an alpha bitch. She was strong and powerful. She would get first shot at him. Well, good for her. He didn’t need to rape her now. She already had his seed. She’d just take it from the other men now as well. He ticked off the girls one by one in the order he liked. After the first few he didn’t really even care. But since only one of them had gotten him during the hunt, and since as the lure he’d been on pep all night, he hoped to put big loads into at least four of them, maybe five. The rest got smaller loads as his strength would fade.

“Alright, lucky boy, go to it!” Markus said with another slap on the shoulder. As the elder and the hunt master, he set about assigning the rest, making sure each of the captives got at least one big load from a rested man. Normally that wasn’t a problem, but with twelve men for nine females, he had to make sure none of the pussies got only small, weak loads.

That wasn’t Raffi’s concern at all. He was into the fun part now, one he hadn’t enjoyed since his last time luring in a successful hunt, a couple years back. He stood over his first choice, the redhead with the big, fat titties and the white skin. “Well, now who’s having fun?” he asked her, pressing his foot to her crotch and tapping her pussy. “Huh? Thought you’d just gang rape a man? Chew me up a little?” He leaned over. “I know you can understand me, bitch! At least a little bit. Well, you’re still going to be fucked today. Just not like you planned.”

She screamed and strained at her bonds as he laid himself down on her. He could kneel in the dirt by her crotch, as they were up off the rocky beach. He pressed his cock head to her sopping wet gash, swirling it around so she could feel him probing her, testing her out. She tried to buck and writhe, but there was no slack. If the men knew one skill, it was tying a woman tight so she wouldn’t be surprising anyone. He pressed hard, but she took him easy.

“Yeah, no tightness in you, bitch!” he sneered as he began to fuck the captive animal girl. She grunted and screamed under his assault. “Do you know what I’m saying to you, you fucking cunt? Do you? Fucking animals! Well, if I put a baby into you, you can remember this moment. And if it’s a girl, you can tell her in your grunt language about how mommy got knocked up while tied to the ground like a punk bitch!”

She screamed in such rage that Raffi was momentarily startled. It was as if she actually understood that sentence, complex though it was. But no matter. He just pumped her harder and faster. He was still full of pep. Soon his cum was flowing into her and down her insides to her belly. Maybe he’d knock her up, maybe one of the others would. Maybe no one would and she’d get it again the next time she tried to hunt a man.

The matter of language in the wild, feral state of woman is a subject of some debate, as society lacks the means to do real research. It is widely believed that they learn some language just from the brief interactions with men, and by passing down some words and grammar even back to the beginning. Though the women are in a reduced state now, they still descend from language-using beings, and as stated elsewhere, they maintain considerable learning capacity. The fact that in mat-mat they developed actual conversational ability suggests that young women in the wild state lack only opportunity to practice language, not that they lack capacity. And yet, communications with the wild females have never extended much beyond single-word grunts and occasional phrases, badly pronounced.

Raphael sat, satisfied and sated. Beyond sated, really. Exhausted was a better word, as his cock finally rested soft again, the pep out of his system. He had his clothing and shoes back. He comrades were finishing with the nine women. Everyone fucked everyone. That was the rule, or at least the goal. With nine, some of them just couldn’t manage it even with pep. But each of the women got multiple loads of cum in them. Each of them would have their chance for pregnancy. To keep them angled correctly, with cum flowing down and in, and also to keep the women from wading into the sea and scooping anything out of themselves, they would be left as they were, bound up tight, angled so their heads sat on the downslope of any surface. It meant sacrificing a bit of rope, but they produced plenty of rope in the stockade. Eventually the women’s pack sisters would find and free them. They always did. There was the remote possibility that a bear or other predator would find the women first, but that was rare. The women let out combinations of screams of misery, screams of rage, screams of fear, and scream of defiance as the hunting party moved to abandon them. Raffi grinned at them. He’d owned all of them, and even managed to fuck the alpha bitch a second time, adding a tiny bit more juice to what she’d taken from him. She almost bit his face when he leaned down to lick hers, but it was worth it, mocking her, defiling her, and totally owning her.

And then it was home. Home to celebration and relaxation. None of them would be called up for a hunting party again for a while, and it would be an even longer while before Raffi was required to be the lure, something he would probably always hate and fear. But for now, that day, he became the hero as word spread of his clever luring of the women out onto the beach by the water where they formed only a semi-circle around them and thus left a blind spot. He wasn’t the first failed lure to over-compensate the next time around. But he was among the most successful at it. Thus, the food and the booze flowed to his seat at the table with wild abandon and he enjoyed his herodom.

But aside from being invited to address the council of elders about his strategy, his fame seemed to be short-lived. Such was life. Everyone got lucky sometime or other. At least Raphael was no longer the walking damaged. Life in the stockade continued as normal. Every few days they sent out a hunting party. And the slow trickle of pregnant feral sows into the stockade continued as normal.

It was always an awkward affair, especially for the first-time mothers. Finding themselves with child, larger, weaker, and their bodies surging with new hormones, the pregnant females out in the woods ended up abandoned by their pack sisters. Too slow to move, they were a liability. After all their efforts to become pregnant, achieving it for the first time meant fear, despair, and humbling submissiveness.

Raphael finished his regular tasks tending to the fields and happened to the outer wall as word that a pregnant sow was approaching. This was always fun to watch. The ones who’d had children already just came walking up, sometimes crawling as they got closer. After a lifetime snarling and fighting men, they now crawled to men for support during their weak time. But the firsties, they were the awkward ones. They didn’t know what they were doing. They didn’t know why they were doing it. Driven by instinct that countered every last waking day of life experience, they had to approach the men and gain protection and sustenance. They had to let themselves willingly be rendered at men’s mercy. Watching a firsty out in the fields beyond the wall, sobbing, screaming, turning back and forth, trying to figure out what she was doing, it was both sad and amusing. These naked, slightly bulging but still sexualized animal girls. Of course, some of the men liked them bulging, and it was a rare supplicant that didn’t get her cunt filled with loads and loads of cum during her stay at the stockade. Rare indeed.

Raffi peered out. It was a firsty alright. She was on her knees, about two hundred feet out, crying, clutching her belly, which wasn’t even showing. At all. “Hey, Franklin,” Raffi said, pointing.

“I see it,” Franklin replied. “Flat and smooth. What do you think? Is she faking it? Trying to lure us out?”

“Wait a minute,” Raphael said, looking closer, and swearing under his breath. The red hair, the white skin. There was no doubt. “That’s the girl I picked first during the hunt last week! I know that one!”

“Well she can’t be here on account of your kid in her,” Franklin said. “Not after a week.”

Up on the wall, the men watched the lone woman. She had all the hallmarks of a firsty, yet there was no sign of the baby bulge. Finally they reached a decision. Down at ground level they opened a small, thick door. Raphael agreed to be one of the two men that stood outside, beckoning her to enter.

“Come on, you remember me, don’t you?” he yelled to her. She knelt out in the field, paralyzed with fear and indecision. But finally, in spurts and fits, she crawled her way towards the wall and the door. There was no sign of her pack sisters. There was no sign of anything beyond a lonely naked animalistic human woman. She knelt at Raphael’s feet, looking up, looking down, looking sideways, grunting, whimpering, showing all the signs of terrified confusion.

Given the circumstances of the great fall, it was fortunate that males and females, for all their lack of mutual understanding, fell into an instinctive and ritualized pattern regarding childbirth. The pregnant female, ruled by hormones and instincts she couldn’t understand, submitted herself to the men she had spent her whole life hating and trying to rape and eat. And the men, regardless of their own personal opinions, remembered just fine that without babies, the species dies. So they took the women in, fed them during their pregnancies, and then cut them loose when the child was born, alone if the infant was a son. The last few months of captivity were the most awkward, as the males of the remaining society continued to keep the new mothers captive to feed the infants. But the women reverted emotionally to the animal feral state almost as soon as the cord was cut, the only change being they grasped the needs of child rearing and feeding. Men of stature applied to be picked for adoption of the boy children, though usually such men had a mat-mat around to actually attend to the child when he was young.

It wasn’t hard to pull duty watching the preggies. Just volunteer. Raphael volunteered because he wanted to see that redhead again, the one he raped first, the one with the thin belly. At least, as thin as her voluptuous frame allowed. She was no shrinking flower. She was in her own cage, just like the rest. She had water, food, straw to sit on, space to stretch out in. The special section of the stockade was made for the preggies. Now he stood in front of the redhead’s cage while she cowered at the back wall, staring up at him.

“Well, remember me?” he asked with a sneer. “Last week? I fucked you good. But I don’t think that’s my baby you’re carrying. If you’re carrying at all. How much do you understand me?”

Her only answer was a dull stare from behind a light layer of dirt. They’d hosed her off and scrubbed her down first thing. But like all the females, she managed to get herself dirty. A woman to dirt was like rain to down. It just happened. Now she stared up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. He moved right, and she moved left. He moved left and she moved right. She stayed in whichever corner was furthest from him. Her naked body jiggled nicely as she trembled in presumed fear. But her eye contact never faltered.

They weren’t alone. The preggies never were. They stayed docile. They took their food. And they took whatever else their male captors gave them. But that was the whole point. No one cared. No one would say boo. And no one would question Raffi’s claim to this woman. He smiled and opened up the door. She practically glued herself to the back of the cage, filling in the corner like a jelly mold. He leered at her nude body, his idea of female perfection, if it weren’t wrapped around feminine savagery. Ancient literature spoke of the emotional bond between man and woman. Laughable. It was just an endless dance over power. And now he had it. He took off his shirt and set it aside. Then his pants. Then everything. Even without pep, he was ready to wreck her body.

“We, hate, you!” she whispered, struggling to force the words from her lips. Raphael stopped for a moment. Surprised. Females sometimes used words after a fashion, but three in a row? Even so, what did it matter.

“Is that right?” he asked. “Well we hate you too. Animal girls. If we didn’t plant seeds in your bellies you’d be no use to anyone!”

“Nnnno!” she struggled to say, louder. She pointed at his body, wagging her finger, pointing at all of him. “We! ATE! You!” She burst out laughing, still pointing. Pointing at all the missing pieces of his arms and legs and torso. “We, don’t, hate, you. You, are… delicious!”

“You little cunt!” he snarled, leaping at her and raining fisticuffs down on her head and body. She screamed and tried to fight him back. And she had the strength, but he had more, and he had leverage. And soon he beat her down onto the ground and pinned her there. She screamed and roared as he parted her legs and plunged his cock into her, raping her again for the second time in a week. She screamed so loudly, in such angry despair. She and two other preggies in their cages. As for the other women, the other preggies, there were a dozen or more of them. They just watched, passive, intrigued but no more.

“Who’s tasty now, you whore!” Raphael shouted at her as he plowed her. She tried so desperately to pull free, but to no avail. He had strength and size. She had nothing, and probably had mixed up hormones as well. He flooded her belly with more cum. She wailed and pulled away from him as soon as he relented. He stepped back. She spat at his feet, but was still quivering in shock and fear.

“So, you can speak a little,” he said. “A smart female. Is that it?”

“I, speak,” she said.

“Is it hard? Talking like a human?”

“Hard to speak,” she said. “Too many words. Confusion.”

“Why are you here? Why did you come here?”

“Baby in me,” she said. “Two months. Baby inside me.”

“You’re early.”

“Early.”

He shook his head. Talking to her was like talking to a wall. Or a child. Both were smarter than a female, even if this one did have three-syllable words at her disposal. He didn’t want to talk to her. He really wanted to rape her again, and he guessed he could manage it. As he stared at her body, sweaty and dirty and sleek, he had a new idea. He’d seen imagery of it, but that was it.

“Come here, you!” he snapped, grabbing at her. She struggled again, though not as much. He flipped her onto her knees and bending forward. Doggy-style. But as he pressed his groin to her backside he touched her other hole. Her butt hole. Anus. And maybe, he thought, that would be fun too. He pressed harder. She squirmed and squealed. She tried to pull away. She was trying to say something. Perhaps to correct him. But he pushed harder and she seemed at once to realize it was no error. He was going to fuck her ass. And then her cries and struggles got frantic. He pushed and pushed, and slowly he pushed his prick into her dry ass.

“No! No!” she screamed. “No! Not!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, now thrusting into her. She wailed in real pain now, thrashing about under him, but he kept a death grip on her. She could just take it. She could just endure it or else. No, there was no or else. She could take it. Period. So Raphael spent the next twenty minutes recovering his mojo and ass-raping the pregnant woman, but he finally did squeeze out another dollop of jizz that went straight into her bowels.

He left her there, like that, weeping and shaking while lying in the straw on the floor of her kennel, trying to comprehend what had just happened to her. He dressed and left.

Sex practices in the post-civilization were rudimentary. The separation of the sexes into two distinct camps with no voluntary overlap greatly reduced the casual opportunity for pregnancy, and with it the propagation of the species. Both sides resorted to hunting down their opposite. Women hunted in packs seeking men to provide semen. Men hunted in packs seeking women to take semen. And both then went through the lengthy countship of women walking up to the stockade to be fed and cared for, only to run off, daughter in tow. It was a system designed to promote maximum penetrative sex. While some oral sexual contact always remained, anal slowly faded from consciousness. Ass rape rarely occurred to the men, and presumably never in the reduced minds of the females. The occasional rediscovery of anal rape would presumably be an extreme trauma to those females that were subject to it, but a rare one.

He was outside again, naked. Sporting a boner. But there was no hunting party. It was just him and the dim morning light and the heavy fog. And somewhere out there, they waited. Or she waited. He didn’t know which. But he lost his advantage and now he was on the run again. He tried to run, but it was too late.

She came at him out of the fog. The redhead. She tackled him and smashed his head into the ground. “Rape me? I’ll rape you and I’ll devour your body! You child! You belong to me!” She was naked, like him, but with none of the vulnerability. She straddled him and wrapped her pussy tightly around his cock, squeezing it, slamming her pelvis down on him, squishing his balls a bit, slapping his face and holding his arms pinned.

“Fuck me, you boy. Fuck me!” she hissed. She choked him and he felt his cock about to blow.

Raphael was awakened rudely. Markus was there, shoving him so hard he nearly fell off his bunk. “What did you do to that redhead we brought in, boy?”

“What? I just fucked her. I didn’t break any rules!”

“Get up!” Markus said, grabbing his intact ear and pulling hard.

“I’m getting up! I’m getting up!” Soon they were marching out of the barracks. At the front gate a new hunting party was getting ready, with another young man soon to be stripped down as the bait. But they ignored that and went straight to the kennels with the preggies. And over to the redhead’s cage.

“You! That’s him!” she said. “He’s the man! He did things, something, to me! He raped me.”

“No such thing as rape in here,” said Silas Jones, the watch captain, with a smirk.

“She got up, opened the cage herself, and tried to flee,” Markus said.

“It wasn’t hard,” she said. “Not when the cloud’s off from my mind. Not when I think good again.”

“So, you little whelp, what did you do to my prisoner?” Silas demanded. “I’m responsible for these creatures!”

“I fucked her. I, oh.”

“What?” Markus demanded.

“I fucked her ass. I used her anus like a pussy. She didn’t like it much.”

“I wouldn’t expect,” Silas replied.

“There has to be more than that,” Markus said.

“Well she was talking to me first,” Raphael protested. “She used sentences. She had three syllable words. And she came in here on her own without a belly bulge. She said she knows she pregnant already, after two months.”

All eyes were on the redhead. She sat in her cage, hands bound behind her, scowling at them all, not even trying to hide her nudity or cower from their gaze. “A female that talks?” Markus asked.

“Well she’s talking even more now. Obviously, it can happen!” Raphael said.

“Indeed.”

“I think I want to go,” she said. “I’ll handle my own pregnancy.”

“You’ll go nowhere,” Silas said. “I’m ordering you to be bound spread wide and kept near a guard station.”

“No!”

“Yes,” he said calmly.

“So she was talking. She must be smart,” Markus said. “But now she’s smarter?”

“Much smarter,” Raphael said. “She was struggling to talk before.”

“And you ass raped her.”

“I heard of it before,” Raphael said. “It didn’t make them smart.”

“No, but this one started that way.” He paused. “I need to speak to the council of elders,” he said, hurrying off. Silas walked off too. “Guard the bitch. If she gets out, I’ll hang you myself.”

Now Raphael looked down at her again. She glared up at him. “Well, this is different,” Raphael said.

“Yes.”

“I did something to you,” he said. “I’ll bet it was the ass fuck. I’ll bet the ass fuck made you smarter.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“You might show some gratitude,” he said, grinning. “I gave you your brain back, probably for the first time in your life.” She glowered and looked away. “Yeah, I knew it. You know it. Ass fucking made you smarter, and now you owe me.”

She still said nothing. Raffi opened the door, now lashed shut with a more sophisticated knot. She skittered back from him. He shut the door and started undressing. “I don’t want that!”

“I don’t care,” he told her. He grabbed her and flipped her onto her belly, then pulled her pelvis up, seeking out her anus again. This time is spat on her for some lube as she struggled harder. “Don’t squirm. It will just make you dumb again.”

“Please, not again!” she begged. “I just want to have my child and leave in peace! Aaghhh!”

He slammed his cock into her butt, hard. With her hands tied she was even more helpless than before. He rammed her hard and fast, using the pent-up energy of his dream. Only now he was back in command as it should be. He soon shot more jizz into her bowels.

When they returned, he was outside the cage standing guard as they left him.

“Don’t bother lying, Raphael,” Silas told him. “The foreman of the watch already told us you ass fucked her again. We really don’t care.”

“The elders have agreed,” Markus said, gesturing to all the women in cages. “We’re going to ass-fuck them. All of them. Over and over. Cunts off limits for now. Just the butt. And we’ll see what happens to the dumb ones. The ones that can barely say three words.”

“Do you think it will matter?” Raphael asked.

“It may be nothing. It may be everything,” Markus said. “If nothing else, it will be a new kind of fun.”

“We’ve got twenty-seven in the stockade overall,” Silas said. “And they trickle in. The ones out there have no reason to stop. If we get good results in here, we’ll start ass-raping the hunted ones too. If we can fuck some sense into the females, I’d say that’s a win.”

“A win. Yeah,” Raphael said.

“And make a hero out of you, boy,” Markus said. “So keep your fingers crossed.”

The six-century night began to end with the discovery of recto-neural regeneration. Always present in semen, the need to procreate put the cure more and more into the vaginal cavities where the female body’s defenses broke it down. But the thin rectal lining offered no defense. With a dozen applications, even the dullest of the females showed mental progress. Intelligence rose and, most importantly, aggression declined or ceased entirely. For six centuries men had meaningful emotional connections only to post-menopausal women who, abandoned by their pack-sisters, came crawling to the stockades and taken in permanently by rich men of prominence. Now the bond of male and female began to return to the masses.

Epilogue

“They’re officially opening our forest up to the general public,” Eve said. “That seemed to take a while. Compared to others.”

“This is remote territory,” Raphael said. “Some of your pack sisters didn’t want to be found. Especially not when they figured out they were vanishing. They weren’t smart, but you were all always cunning.”

“And ferocious,” she added. “don’t forget ferocious.”

“Ferocious, feral. Insane. I know, believe me.”

“Do you think we’ll be allowed to wear clothing someday?” she asked.

Raffi shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of mistrust to overcome. While we were trying to maintain civilization, you all were running around tearing it down. Naked. A lot of the older generation will never look on a woman and see anything more than a female. At least a quarter of us were gang raped by you once in our lives. It’s a lot to look past.”

“Yeah,” she said. She gazed out the window of their bedroom atop the central keep in the stockade. “I wonder if there are any of them still out there.”

“I hope not. Not when civilization and brain power is available for the low cost…”

“Of only three ass-fucks a week for life,” she finished speaking with him in perfect unison. “Promise you’ll never abandon this ass?”

“Let’s take a look,” he said. She grinned and turned around, parting her butt cheeks with her hands. “Oh no, not ever!” he replied, pulling her down and rolling her onto her belly. His cock was hard and ready. “Ask for it,” he said. “Ask the way I like it.”

“Really?”

“You know what I want,” he said, rubbing his cock head around her puckered anus.

“Please fuck my brains in,” she said with a feigned sigh.

“Gladly, my love,” he said, driving his cock into her butt. “My pleasure.”