Previous chapters:
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As soon as Vice raised his gun, the Galliard men responded, and suddenly Vice was looking down the barrels of eight heavy blasters, each capable of punching a hole through an inch of hypersteel.
It took everything Vice had not to waver, or blink, but keep his aim fixed firmly on the Galliard leader’s chest.
“Jayson Vice,” said the leader. “You do not want to do this. We outnumber and outgun you. The only possible outcome of a conflict is that you will be dead, and we will rape and take possession of all of your women, rather than just one.”
“Well, that’s not quite right,” said Vice. “I guess seven of you will will rape my women – but you, friend, won’t be one of them, because you’ll be dead when I pull this trigger.”
It was a bluff – not because Vice wasn’t willing to risk his life, if it came to it, but because the gun he was holding was a stun rifle. It wouldn’t kill anyone – and he wasn’t even completely sure it would knock a Galliard out, given their size and physique. He hadn’t dared to keep lethal weapons around the camp, on the general principle that the person most likely to be shot by them would be himself. Did the Galliard know that? Could they tell what his gun did? Had Female Pig told them anything that might give it away?
There was a long, tense silence – and then the Galliard leader spoke.
“We did not come here to fight you, Jayson Vice,” he said. “We are not your enemies. We are united by a shared desire to teach women their natural place as tools, as animals, as cum receptacles. We understand you feel possessive of your herd of bitches, as any male would. But one of your bitches has yet to understand her place. Female independence is a disease, Jayson Vice, and left unchecked, it will infect others. Your bitch is sick. Surely you wish her to receive treatment?”
Vice paused. He really didn’t know what they were proposing, and more information couldn’t hurt. “What is this treatment?” he asked.
“A simple rearrangement of the female brain,” said the Galliard leader. “A machine, located in our main camp. Certain concepts are embedded deeply and fundamentally in an unaltered female brain – her identity, her survival instinct, her autonomic processes such as her heartbeat and her breathing. The machine simply takes an additional concept – her essential inferiority to men – and embeds it as deeply and permanently as those other functions. Thoughts of rebellion and independence will thereafter be discarded by the bitch’s brain as quickly as they are formed.”
Vice was astonished. “That’s impossible,” he said – and then turned to look at his women. “Isn’t it?” he whispered.
They shrugged. None of them knew. Though it was certainly not a science any of them had heard of before.
He turned back to the Galliard. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
“Whether you believe or disbelieve does not change its truth, Jayson Vice,” said the Galliard. “You will find we have made many breakthroughs in the science of bitches, here on Persephone Nine. Once you no longer regard a bitch as human, or care about her comfort or happiness or rights or consent, many new avenues of discovery make themselves available.”
Vice had assumed that the Galliard would be limited to the technology they had brought with them when they had first founded their colony on the planet – technology that would now be around a hundred years out of date, and degraded and unrepairable to boot. But if what they were saying was true, Vice had made a mistake. The Galliard were significantly more advanced than he had given them credit for.
And with that realisation, a thought began to form – a thought as yet incomplete, but intriguing, and deserving of further consideration.
He put the thought aside for now, leaving it to his unconscious mind to turn over.
“What would happen to her after she was processed?” he asked.
“The process would leave her requiring close male control, discipline and supervision in order to feel happy and secure,” said the Galliard leader. “We would normally share that obligation among the men of the tribe, which each man taking a rostered opportunity to rape her and attempt to breed her. After she is impregnated, we would normally transfer her to the bitch pens, to reside with the other fuckpigs – but if you felt you had something of value to us, you could perhaps use it to buy her back from us – or perhaps trade her for another of your bitches, if there is one you are tired of.”
“She’s my property,” said Vice. “Why should I have to buy her back from you at all?”
“We are increasing her value by giving her the treatment,” said the leader. “And in any case you have forfeited your right to her by failing to properly instruct her in her worthlessness.”
“And so we’re back at our standoff,” said Vice, his gun still trained on the leader’s chest.
The leader sighed. “It is almost never the case that a bitch is worth killing a fellow male over,” he said. “Very well. Let me propose a deal. Allow us into your camp, and we will demonstrate to you the merits of Galliard technology by gifting you with a few pieces of basic equipment that will allow you to properly exploit your bitches. We will demonstrate this equipment for you, and then, if you do not want to submit your bitch for treatment, we will leave you alone.”
Vice narrowed his eyes. “Seriously? If I don’t agree to have Cunt treated with you, you’ll just leave us be?”
“You will still be watched, Jayson Vice,” said the Galliard. “And if we see signs of independence or… feminism… spreading to your other bitches, we will be forced to sterilise your entire camp.”
Vice could tell that the Galliard didn’t mean they would be prevented from breeding. This was the kind of sterilisation that involved fire and death.
And yet it was a better deal than Vice had had a moment ago. The Galliard were not bluffing when they said they could kill him easily, providing they were willing to pay the cost.
And besides, there was that idea that he was turning over at the back of his brain…
“Leave your guns outside,” he said. “Clearly you could physically overpower us, even without weapons. Let’s all put down the firearms and prevent any… miscommunications.”
“Very good, Jayson Vice,” grinned the Galliard leader, dropping his gun on the sand of the beach. “Let us, indeed, communicate better.”
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The women were terrified of the eight-foot-tall beastmen as they strode into the camp – and at close range, the pheromones of the Galliard were even more powerful. Vice saw that his women were finding it difficult to avoid staring at the monstrous cocks of the genetically-augmented colonists.
“Your bitches may feel free to suck our dicks as we speak, Jayson Vice,” said the leader. “It is, after all, the natural instinct of the bitch.”
Should he let the women suck the cocks of these strangers? Vice was torn. He wasn’t jealous, as such. The value of his harem wasn’t lowered by letting them service other cocks, and it was hardly as if Vice wanted to use them himself right now. And there was nothing that Vice liked better than seeing his women humiliated, degraded and submissive – and he guessed that admitting they wanted to suck the foot-long dicks of these monstrous invaders might be very humiliating for them.
But there remained a lingering fear – that his women would prefer these oversized fucksticks to his own more human cock, and desire to be collared by the Galliard rather than stay enslaved to him.
He looked at the women – and met the eyes of Telea. And all it took was one glance to be completely, unshakably confident that the beautiful, submissive former-lesbian would never leave him for anything.
“Go for it,” he told the girls. “If you want to suck our guests’ cocks, go for it.”
Telea was clearly imagining it, and she was wide-eyed as she stared at the huge cocks, but she moved to stand loyally at Vice’s side.
Cunt, too, simply moved closer to Vice – but then she spoke, whispering in Vice’s ear. “Sir,” she breathed. “I don’t want to be… brain-wiped,or whatever they’re going to do to me. Bred. Impregnated. Please…”
Vice sighed. Why couldn’t Cunt understand that no good would come of a woman voicing opinions within earshot of the Galliard? It would only make her situation worse.
“Telea, slap Cunt until she learns to keep her face-twat closed,” said Vice.
“Yes, sir,” said Telea immediately, and promptly slapped Cunt across the face three times. “Don’t be a stupid Laurel,” she hissed afterwards. “No one cares what you want or don’t want.”
Victoria and Amy, meanwhile, had tried to resist the desires the pheromones were inspiring in them – but their wills were too weak, and soon each were crawling across the ground, each taking the cock of a Galliard male in their hand, and then beginning first to kiss it, then to slobber and drool over it, and then to enthusiastically suck on it, gagging occasionally as its tip pressed against the backs of their throats.
The expressions on their faces told Vice they were humiliated – that they didn’t want to be doing this, and felt like disgusting sluts for so eagerly servicing the unnatural dicks. And yet they couldn’t help themselves. Their cunts were in the grip of the pheromones, and their brains would do what their cunts demanded.
The Galliard happily fucked the girls’ faces for a few minutes, until the leader shook his head.
“We have work to do,” he told the men receiving the blowjobs. “Mount the bitches, so we can begin.”
Before Victoria and Amy knew what was going on, their mouths were pushed off the cocks, and then vicious clamps were applied to their tits, each of which gripped a significant amount of their titflesh in an unyielding vice. A long loop of metal cable – maybe five feet in length connected each girl’s left tit to her right.
Then the Galliard picked the girls up off the ground, and turned them upside down, their heads down, their asses up. They lifted the girls up and ducked their head through the loop of cable, so that the cable now ran from the girl’s left tit, around behind the Galliard’s neck, and back to her right tit.
Slowly, they lowered the girls until their mouths were level with the Galliard’s cock. Obediently, the terrified girls opened their mouths again and began to suck. Then, the Galliard tapped the girl’s legs, indicating they should wrap their legs around the Galliard’s shoulders to support their weight.
The girls did this immediately – because by now they had realised the truth of their predicament. If they could not hold themselves up with their legs, then the entire weight of their body would be borne by their tits, via the cable running behind the Galliard’s neck.
The girls clenched their legs tightly around the men they were sucking – and this position left their pussy and anus spread directly below the Galliard’s chin. The Galliard who were carrying the girls were now passed tools, which had previously hung on the belt of the leader, and they proceeded to insert the handles of these tools into the cunt and anus of Victoria and Amy.
The tool that went in the cunt had a long, thick handle, with a little clamp hanging off near the head of the tool, and the Galliard attached this clamp to the girl’s clitoris, to stop her cunt muscles pushing the intruding object back out of her. The other tool had a tapered handle rather like a butt plug, which kept it neatly in place once the Galliard had spat on the girl’s anus and then worked the thick tool into her butthole. It was clear that both of these tools were specifically designed to be holstered in a bitch’s orifices in exactly this manner. It wasn’t immediately clear to Vice what the tools *did* – each ended in a piece of high-tech metal that might plausibly have been a welding torch, a drill or screwdriver, or a sensor of some kind.
With their dick-sucking female toolbelts “mounted” in place, the Galliard went to work. They made use of the existing materials in the base, the remnants of the Cinnabar Hawk, the fabricator, and the services of Rospar, and in a relatively short time it was clear that several devices of significant technological advancement were taking place.
There was nothing for Vice to do, so he sat, and had Telea come and suck on his cock, while he made Cunt masturbate and read passages from the Book of Galliard about how she was a parasite that fed on sperm, and how she was an empty vessel designed to be ejaculated into and impregnated. He thought that it might please the Galliard, or at least not make them any more ill-tempered.
Vice came quickly from Telea’s tongue, but it was pleasant to be in her mouth, so he kept her there throughout the day. By contrast, when Amy or Victoria managed to make the men they were mounted on ejaculate, they were simply transferred to a new Galliard, and forced to begin sucking the dick of their new wearer.
Vice was somewhat worried about them being upside-down for so long, so he broached the subject with the Galliard leader – who turned out to have the decidedly un-monstrous name of Confidence. (All Galliard men, it seemed, were named for a perceived masculine virtue, such that several of the other Galliard men had names such as Fortitude, Certainty and Practicality.)
“Do not worry, Jayson Vice,” said Confidence. “The semen of the Galliard has been crafted to have many benefits for a sufficiently talented bitch. They may be uncomfortable in the mounted position, but providing they drink enough of our sperm today, they will suffer no meaningful harm.” He laughed. “In fact, they will likely receive more helpful vital nutrients and vitamins from our cocks than from whatever out-planet slop you were fabricating for them.”
And for all their discomfort, Victoria and Amy seemed to also be deriving some pleasure from their predicament – or, at least, Vice saw them visibly orgasm on several occasions, always being when a tool was being removed from their cunt or anus, or re-inserted.
“Out-planet bitches spend their lives trying to avoid this reality,” observed Confidence during one such orgasmic display, “but they derive their greatest pleasure when they are treated like the mindless objects they are. A bitch desires for her holes to be useful. One must merely put those holes to use.”
And then, finally, the work was done. The devices – three of them – were completed. And the Galliard leader motioned for Vice to look upon their creations.
“Come here, Jayson Vice,” he said, “and see the utility that can truly be extracted from bitches, if one has but the machines to do so.”
And he laughed – a laugh that did not suggest good things for Vice’s four women…
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