This story is set in the high-fantasy world of Arth-Keros. More information on Arth-Keros is available to ATR paid members! (Click here to view memberships in the store.)


When Aylee turned 18, she would never have predicted that less than three years later she would find herself kept as human cattle by the Goblins of Nibrahig.  But the degradation leading up to that fate was less surprising.

Aylee and her sister Hana were born in the Potentate of Vass, in the Inner Lands of Arth-Keros.  Like almost all the lands of Arth-Keros, Vass was ruled by men, and its women were fated by their connection to the Nine Impure Natures to be forever enslaved and controlled by those men. 

Where other nations of Arth-Keros built their wealth upon agriculture, or military might, or sorcery, Vass had set itself apart through its pursuit of science.  Its technological advances gave it a competitive edge in navigation, defence, transport, and a range of other fields.

Perhaps its most important discovery had been the discovery of gynaetic energy.  The Great Deducer, Halistrax IV, had revealed that the connection of women, through their cunt and tits, to the demons that had forged Arth-Keros, meant that there was a potent current of untapped primal energy running through every female.  By means of a Halistrax Field, that energy could be harvested through the sexual manipulation of a woman, or even expressed in her bodily fluids.

By the age in which Aylee was born, Vass enjoyed free gynaetic energy in every home, powering lights, heating and other appliances.  That energy was provided by the Great Battery, a looming structure in the heart of the capital, which housed nearly 700 caged young women, whose non-stop rape and sexual torture ensured the wealth and prosperity of the nation. 

All citizens of Vass were encouraged to visit the Battery and take their own turn creating the nation’s energy by raping one of the women there, and Aylee’s parents had taken her for her first visit on her 18th birthday.  Aylee had been scared and horrified at the misery and pain on the faces of the caged sluts within, but her father had encouraged her to lift her skirt and force one of the chained women to lick her cunt, and Aylee had reluctantly done so.  As the girl’s tongue had parted Aylee’s labia, her empathy for the trapped girls had drained away, replaced by lust, and she had known that it was right and proper for women to be abused in order to bring pleasure and warmth to so many.

Raping the girl at the Battery was Aylee’s first direct sexual experience with another person, so her father had a painting commissioned of it, and hung it in the family dining room.  The look of slutty sexual ecstasy on Aylee’s face in the picture, as she threw her head back, her long red hair streaming down behind her, made Aylee blush every time she saw it.

“It’s a good picture,” said her father over dinner that night.  “It will remind me of you when you’re gone, Aylee.”

Alarm began to sound in Aylee’s mind.  “Gone?  What do you mean?” she asked.

“You’re 18 now, Aylee,” he said, gruffly.  “It’s time you were of use to the nation.  I’m apprenticing you to the Watchful Guild of Alchemists.”

“I’m to be an Alchemist-Slave?” Aylee exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch.  Enslavement to the Guild was not as bad as being consigned to the Battery, but it was a far cry from Aylee’s hopes for her own future.  “Father, you can’t!  Please!  I wanted to do carpentry, alongside you in your workshop!”

“Don’t be foolish, Aylee,” said her father.  “Carpentry is men’s work.  You’ll go to the alchemists, and that’s that.”

And there was no further appeal.  The next day, Aylee’s few belongings were packed in a bag, and her father took her by gynaetic carriage to the tall tower in which the Alchemists made their home.

Alchemy was a gynaetic science focused on the bodily fluids of women.  By means of a Halistrax Field, the cunt juices, piss and breast milk of women could be extracted in a way that left the fluids imbued with energy.  These liquids could then be used in alchemical processes to create potions and tinctures with powerful and useful effects. 

In the early days of alchemy, the fluids were extracted from women who were kept chained and caged, who had little value except as cattle to be milked.  However, nearly 100 years ago it was discovered that the imbued fluids lost their potency faster when they were handled by men, and so the alchemists began to train women to do much of the work of production and experimentation themselves.

Now more than half the guild was made up of “Alchemist-Slaves”, who both produced the vital fluids, and then processed them and experimented with them, under male direction – and this was to be Aylee’s fate.

When Aylee arrived at the tower – a monolithic pillar rising nearly twenty storeys into the sky – she was taken within its dark, oppressive depths by robed male alchemists.  In a sealed basement room, she was stripped naked, and her tits and pussy were measured and documented in humiliating detail.  She blushed as her breasts were declared to be “adequate, barely” – and then squealed as they were placed in a vice and squeezed to test her pain tolerance.  She remained in the painful vice as her vagina and anus were then lubricated with soft oils and penetrated with a series of dildos of increasing size to test her internal capacity.  Her examiners noted that she failed to orgasm from the violation, and Aylee felt a surge of guilt and inadequacy at this observation.

Afterwards, she was fitted with a Halistrax Collar – a thin loop of silver around her neck that created a Halistrax field throughout her entire body, ensuring that all her fluids would be suitable for alchemy.  The collar was welded in place, and Aylee shivered as she realised that it would never again come off while she was alive. 

She was assigned to the control of Master Klax, a thin, bald male alchemist, who was surprisingly kind most of the time, but who could become icy and cruel at a moment’s notice.  She learned she would sleep in a kind of dog-bed in his chambers, at the foot of his bed.  She expected, with numb horror, that she would be his sex-slave, but discovered to her surprise that this was not true.

“Don’t be a fool, girl,” said Klax, when Aylee asked if he would fuck her.  “Sexual activity has dramatic gynaetic consequences within a Halistrax Field.  Fucking you while you wear that collar would probably be safe enough, by itself, but doing it so close to the many finely calibrated devices within this tower could cause untold damage.  If I am to rape you, it will be under controlled circumstances, for scientific reasons, and not otherwise.”

She learned her first task would be to begin producing milk – and to do that, she would need to craft a Potion of Bovine Bounty.

“You can create it from your piss, your cunt juices, and the semen of a bull,” said Klax.  “You will collect the reagents, and then I will instruct you in its preparation.”

No female child in Vass reached maturity without becoming accustomed to being treated as a sub-human decoration and future sexual object.  Yet even so, the process of producing the reagents was humiliating and degrading to Aylee.

He made her masturbate while she tried to piss, and insisted on watching her do it.

“Urine produced by a woman who is aroused is vastly more potent than otherwise,” Klax told her.  “It can be difficult to do this, as arousal tends to swell shut the urethra, but with proper training you can learn to relax the necessary muscles, and piss and masturbate at the same time.”

It took her hours until the pressure in her bladder was sufficient to let her squirt her piss into a small cup.  Klax would not let her orgasm at any time in the process.

“Just as I cannot lightly rape you without jeapordising the instruments in the tower, so too must you be prevented from orgasming,” Klax said.  “Your collar will ensure you do not find your release without explicit male permission.”

She screamed in frustration as he said this, because her body was shaking with the need to cum, and the idea of not cumming – not *ever* cumming – was overwhelming.  Klax slapped her across the face as punishment for the unsolicited noise.

She soon had small containers of piss and cunt-slime, so Klax took her down to the cattleyards for the final ingredient.  In a dusty outdoor enclosure, Aylee undressed in front of a large black bull.  Klax dosed it with a syringe of something, to keep it docile and safe, and then Aylee knelt beneath it and began to masturbate its huge cock. 

“These are not truly bulls,” Klax told her as she worked, “but gifts of Ulos the Herdmaster, who gives women the nature of the cow.  A bit of the primal power lives within them, which you extract here.  Keep the cock aimed at your face as you masturbate it.  As a woman, you are less than any male animal, and you must show respect.  Your degradation will give power to the sperm, and increase the effectiveness of our final potion.”

And shortly afterwards, the bull ejaculated, bathing Aylee’s face and tits in its cum.  She cried a little, mostly from the humiliation, but also because she had been rubbing her cunt as she stroked its cock, and she desperately wanted an orgasm that she was not allowed to achieve.

Back at the tower, Klax instructed her in the usage of the various devices by which the fluids could be refined, purified, modified, and combined.  Under his direction, Aylee slowly teased her slutty liquids into marriage with the bull sperm, and then distilled the result into a pale, milky liquid.

The final step was to inject the result into her tits.  Klax gave her a sharp syringe, and encouraged her to masturbate before plunging it into each breast, in order to counter the pain with endorphins.  Aylee did as she was bid, but it was still excruciating.  She screamed as the fluid burned in her breasts, beginning to stretch them, and enlarge them.

“Good girl, Aylee,” said Klax.  “You will have very great pain in your tits for the next three days.  You will be able to think of little except how much your udders hurt.  Because you have done so well, I give you permission to orgasm until I speak to you next, providing your tits are in pain at the time.”

And immediately, Aylee’s body began to shake, as the orgasms she had been denied began to hit her, one after another.  It was the first time that Aylee had orgasmed from pain, fear and degradation, but it would be far from the last.

In those first moments as the pain coursed through her breasts, she could barely think, let alone move, and so Klax had to drag her by her hair to the dog bed in his quarters.  She lay there for three days, weeping and masturbating as her breasts swelled larger and larger.  She orgasmed almost non-stop throughout this period, and the connections in her brain between breast pain, crying and pleasure were burned so deeply that for the rest of her life Aylee would never again be able to experience pain in her breasts without feeling extreme misery and extreme arousal.

Finally, on the fourth day, the pain subsided, and Aylee was able to look down and see what she had done to herself.  Her breasts, formerly petite, elegant buds – barely a handful – had swollen into obscene melons the size of an Orhanian gourdfruit.  They felt full – painfully full – and as she watched, a thin trickle of milk leaked from each nipple. 

She realised that for the rest of her life, the first thing that anyone would notice about her would be her tits.  Not her tits, she corrected herself.  Her udders. 

“The process is permanent, and irreversible,” said Klax, standing over her and watching her, “but why would you want to reverse it?  What good is a female with small tits?”  He nodded, satisfied with her new body.  “You will find you need to be milked three times daily, or else the pain from the milk filling your udders will be overwhelming.”

Aylee whimpered, but Klax ignored her.

“Now, get up, Aylee, and follow me to the milking machine,” he said.  “You will find the mechanical milking is also painful, but it is the fastest way to express your milk.  And we will need a great deal of your milk to fuel our next project.”

“Our next project?” Aylee asked, numbly, trying to get to her feet and finding that her huge new tits were throwing off her balance.

“The creation of gynaetic energy at the Great Battery requires much alchemical support,” said Klax.  “We feed the bitches potions to keep them docile, stupid, aroused, and for other reasons.  However, you are first going to learn the potion that increases the sensitivity of their breasts and pussy, so that they find rape more painful, thus generating more gynaetic energy.  Won’t it be lovely, Aylee, to know that you are helping the city?”

Aylee thought about working every day, painfully pumping milk from her tits in order to make rape more painful for the 700 helpless women in the battery.

“Yes, absolutely,” she said, knowing that that was what Klax wanted to hear.

But even then she knew that she could not stay here, in servitude to the Guild.  It may take her time, and careful planning, and she didn’t yet know where she would go.

But she would escape.  And she would allow nothing to stop her.


If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love The Ternish Betrayal – A Novella of High-Fantasy Degradation, available from my creator site for only $3.99 USD! (Click here to view in store.)


12 thoughts on “Story: Aylee the Alchemist-Slave, Part 1

  1. Her tits swelled to the obscene size of… grapefruits?! A fairly small fruit… did you mean watermelons or something larger?

    1. Good point. I have no idea what I was thinking here. Grapefruits are big compared to an almost flat chest, and maybe that’s what I intended, or maybe my brain was just disengaged. I’ll change the wording here and in my master file to something else.

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