alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Traitor Frequency

Chelsea was a neuroscientist, and she was lucky.

Lucky because she had a stable job and a practically unlimited research budget, which most of her peers would literally kill for.  And she could use that budget to progress research into women’s brain health, and advance the health of women generally.

The catch was that the funding came from Chained Venus – a wealthy lobby group that actively advocated against the rights of women.  They believed that women were biologically inferior to men, and they were paying for her research in the hope that she would find proof.

Chelsea did her best to fob them off with studies into women’s visuospatial skills, their learning aptitude, and abstract reasoning, knowing that the results would show only trivial differences between the sexes, or replicate things that were already well-known. 

But Chained Venus demanded results – something juicy, and meaningful – and they were beginning to make it clear that if Chelsea didn’t find something, her funding would be terminated.

Hopeful of finding something that would satisfy her backers, Chelsea undertook a wide range of studies, testing things that no one had specifically studied before – mostly because there was no particular reason to think they would yield interesting results.

But one test *did* yield those results.

Chelsea thought it must be an error when she looked at it.  Over a test of 200 women, those who had been exposed to a certain pattern of alternating subsonic frequencies had proved significantly more likely to agree with misogynistic and patriarchal statements. 

It wasn’t a small thing.  95% of women exposed to the sound agreed with the statement that women were inferior to men.  89% agreed with the statement that men should make decisions for women.  81% agreed that the most important parts of a woman’s body were her breasts and her vagina.  

55% agreed that it was reasonable to rape a woman if she didn’t consent to sex.

52% agreed that women should not be able to vote.

Of the set of women who agreed with every misogynistic statement, five were lesbians, and two actively worked in the field of women’s rights and advocacy.

When Chelsea followed up with the subjects a month later, the findings were even more disturbing.  The agreement rate with the misogynistic statements had fallen – but only by a very small amount.  Of the respondents who had been single at the first experiment, nearly three-quarters had entered a sexual relationship with a man – including two of the lesbians.  Of those who had jobs or were engaged in study, two-thirds had quit.

Chelsea hadn’t recorded what the women were wearing on the first occasion, but she noted with discomfort that they almost all seemed to be dressed in more sexually provocative clothing at the follow-up.

Acting on a hunch, Chelsea asked the women if they had experienced sexual harassment or assault since the first experiment.

A third of the women said that yes, they had been raped.  Almost all of them reported that they had orgasmed from rape.  Almost all of them described the rape as being their own fault. 

It seemed impossible to Chelsea.  Surely these results couldn’t be real? 

And yet they were.  Chelsea had discovered something – some backdoor to the female brain – that made women… what?  Hate their own gender.  Think of themselves as animals for men to control.  Become traitors to the idea of female empowerment.

A “traitor frequency”.

No one had said those things to the women during the experiment.  Those thoughts had just surfaced in the women’s brains of their own accord – when Chelsea had exposed them to the frequency.  It had turned them into submissive bimbos – and they had stayed that way, even after the sounds had stopped.

Chelsea wanted to put the research in the bin and forget that it had ever happened.  No good would come of this.

But two things stopped her.  The first was that Chained Venus needed something – something very much like this.  If Chelsea could give them something solid but harmless arising out of this, they would go away happy, and she could get back to doing real good for real women. 

And the second was that the results were *weird*.  They implied something about the human brain – or at least the female brain – that no other research had ever brought to light.  If the brain could be changed by certain sounds then, yes, that had scary applications, but it could also have good ones.  It could treat mental health, dementia, memory loss…

And so Chelsea followed up on her study.

Her first work was merely to eliminate variables.

No, the sound did nothing to men, whether they were already misogynists or otherwise.  She found no meaningful variation in their thinking.

No, the sound did not work outside of the very controlled environment of her lab.  The slightest change in acoustics eliminated the effect, and it also didn’t work if the subject wasn’t giving the sound their full consensual attention.

No, the sound didn’t work if it was recorded and played back, or transmitted over the internet, radio, or telephone.  It needed to be produced live, from the very specific equipment that she had used to produce it. 

All of this was bad for Chelsea.  A sound that could only be created in Chelsea’s lab, and only used on consensual subjects, was clearly not what Chained Venus wanted.  Nor could she explain *why* it worked, or what else could be done with it.

She ran another test, on another fifty women.  This time she specifically selected for women with high intelligence and feminist opinions.  Many of them were lesbians.  Most of them professed to hate men.

She left them listening to the sound for three times as long.  When she tested them afterwards, every last one agreed that a woman was biologically more like a cow than a human.  48 agreed that women learned best from being slapped and raped.  45 agreed that a woman should have no say in what men did with her body.

They understood what had happened to them, she found.  They knew that they used to be feminists, and that her experiment had changed them.  They just… didn’t care.  Their new thoughts were correct, and therefore their old thoughts were wrong, and they were grateful to her for correcting them.

Four of the women had science backgrounds, and they specifically asked if they could work with her to help progress the research, to “show more women the truth”.  Chelsea was uncomfortable with this offer, but they were offering to work for free, and she needed the help, so she said yes.

She checked back in with her first cohort of test subjects, and found that over half of them were now pregnant.  One of the lesbians was working as a sex worker, and reported fucking four to six men a day.  She set no limits on what they could do with her and encouraged them to be violent.  She said she was still a lesbian, and she still hated fucking men, but she knew that this was her purpose and that she couldn’t live with the idea that she was denying her body to men.

Curious to see what would happen, Chelsea took the portion of the cohort that hadn’t radically transformed their lives, and re-exposed them to the sound.  When they came out of it, many of them were already telephoning male friends to offer their body for the man’s pleasure.

Three months on from the initial results, though, Chelsea still didn’t understand any more about the sound, or how to replicate it.  What few insights she had made were sourced exclusively from her new misogynist assistants, who had proved to be invaluable.

The girls worked around the clock to reverse-engineer or expand the sound.  They seemed to be sexually aroused by their work, and performed their experiments with a lustful flush on their cheeks. 

They had set up a scoreboard in the lab, to see which of them could seduce the most lesbian or bisexual feminists, lure them to the lab, and then expose them to the sound.  A pretty blonde named Grace was leading, having flirted with, tongue-fucked, and then bimbo-ised no less than 33 other women.

Chained Venus were still harassing Chelsea for results.  In desperation, she told them what she had discovered about the frequency so far.  When they heard she had a soundwave that could turn women into submissive sluts, they shut down all her other research and ordered her to focus exclusively on the frequency.  They gave her a deadline of two months to produce usable results – and if she failed, they would fire her, and get her new assistants to continue the work.

Chelsea knew, in her current state, she wasn’t going to crack the problem in two months.  Not because she wasn’t smart enough – she certainly had the brains to do this.  But because there was something holding her back.

Her feminism.  She didn’t really *want* to improve the frequency.  She knew it would be used to mind control and degrade women.

But she also didn’t want to be disgraced and unemployed.  And, at the end of the day, that turned out to be more important to her than her principles.

One evening, Chelsea walked into the testing lab, stripped naked, and seated herself in front of the speakers that produced the frequency. 

Then she turned them on.

When they auto-disengaged, nearly an hour later, Chelsea was frantically masturbating, having already orgasmed five times.

She already knew how to do it.  How to buffer the frequency with supporting tones, so that it could be reproduced effectively in noisy environments, even when the target was barely listening.  You could put it in pop songs.  Podcasts.  Internet ads.  Videogames.  And every girl who heard it would rearrange her brain to accept the fundamental, inescapable idea that she was a fucktoy who needed to be owned and controlled by men.

Just like Chelsea did. 

She wondered who she should ask to own her.  No one that she *wanted* such a relationship with – she knew that she was too stupid to trust her own thoughts and opinions. 

Chained Venus.  They would know.  They would set her up with a man who would rape her and beat her tits and train her to be a good little fuck-kitten.

Just the same as every other woman in the world would soon become…

===

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Chelsea accidentally discovers a sound frequency that makes women betray their gender.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Persephone Nine, Chapter 30 – Final Preparations

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Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine

===

It took Vice hours to get Victoria back to the camp.  To start with, he couldn’t get close enough to her to have a proper conversation.  The hounds would growl at him menacingly whenever he came any closer than shouting range.

But he understood what Victoria had planned to do, and he knew as soon as he saw her that she had succeeded.  She was pregnant with a Rapehound litter, and now the Rapehounds would defend her.  He was able to ask her if she was hurt, and she was able to indicate that her pussy hurt but that otherwise she was fine.

The second problem was that the Rapehounds wouldn’t let Victoria walk – only crawl on all fours.  Whenever she tried to stand, they would first growl, and then nip at her tits, before finally pushing her back to the ground with their weight.  And so Victoria was forced to crawl on all fours.  Vice didn’t know if the Rapehounds thought this had some benefit for their litter gestating within her, or that they thought it kept her better under control, but either way it was damned inconvenient.  It was already late on the second day since they had received the rescue signal, and at his best calculations the Galliard would reach the camp before sundown on the third day.

He was grateful that they let her move at all.  He was worried that they might keep her at the site of her rape, or spirit her away to a lair or den, but instead they let her slowly crawl in the direction of her choosing, her ass waggling and her sand-spotted tits swaying beneath her.  They kept pace with her in a rough circle all around her, preventing anyone else from drawing close, but they seemed content to go wherever she chose to go.

Vice found himself feeling a strong surge of jealousy.  Victoria was *his* bitch. It was *his* right to rape her and impregnate her – but now some animal had cuckolded him.  He was strongly aware of the gun he was carrying.

But it was unproductive jealousy.  What Victoria had done would help them.  And these were just animals.  Soon he would steal Victoria away from them, and she would resume her rightful place as one of his fucktoy harem.

When they reached the camp, another dilemma presented itself.  Vice had no intention of letting the Rapehounds inside the camp.  They may not be attacking him or Victoria, but he didn’t trust them around the other girls.  And, in turn, the Rapehounds would not let Victoria enter the camp without them.

In the end Vice had to settle for leaving Victoria outside, crawling with the wolves outside the gate. 

However, he did find a compromise of sorts, and Telea was the one who suggested it.

“Put me in a locking chastity belt,” she said.  “So they can’t fuck me even if they want me.  And then send me and Rospar.  Rospar’s not alive – they might let him close.  And they’ll probably let me close because I’m a female.  I can see if Victoria’s okay, and do a gynaecological examination.”

“You mean Rospar can do one,” said Vice.  “You’re not a doctor.”

Telea blushed.  “Actually I studied Reproductive Medicine on New Sappha as a minor when I was at Navigator’s College,” she said.  “It was considered important to train as many young women as possible to help throw off the patriarchal forms of gynaecology practiced on other planets.”

“What’s patriarchal about gynaecology?” asked Vice.

“Well, lots, as New Sappha teaches it,” said Telea.  “But one thing is that my people believe men’s interested in reproductive medicine is limited to having women birth children safely, and otherwise is not interested in the woman’s experience.  On New Sappha women are almost always fertilised artificially – without a man – but we believe that reproduction should be a joyful experience.  At gynaecological visits, the patient is sexually stimulated to associate endorphins and joy with birthing, and usually receives an orgasm in each inspection.  When she finally gives birth, her body is pleasured by partner throughout birthing, and the orgasms and pleasure she experiences help her bond with her child and incentivise her to be impregnated again.”

Vice looked at her sceptically.

“You’ll see,” said Telea.

Vice reluctantly fitted her with the chastity belt, and Telea went out with the robot ROSPAR to see Victoria.  It was already dark by now, but he was able to fix a light on the Rapehound pack outside that was enough to see by without antagonising them.

At first Vice thought the plan wouldn’t work.  The Rapehounds rose, and their fur bristled, and they growled.  

But then Victoria, seeing the problem, lay down on her back and scooched herself under what appeared to be the leader of the pack.  She reached up and pulled the tip of its cock down towards her mouth, and began to suck.  Immediately, the mood of the pack changed, and Telea and Rospar were allowed to draw close.

Several of the hounds sniffed at Telea, licking at her chastity belt.  When they realised they couldn’t access her hole, they rose up and licked at her tits, apparently seeking milk.  Telea giggled, but continued approaching Victoria, and they allowed her to.

She began by kneeling between Victoria’s legs and leaning down to lick Victoria’s pussy.  Victoria, still sucking the cock of her monstrous baby-daddy, reacted with obvious pleasure.  Vice thought that it was likely Victoria’s cunt must still taste of Rapehound cum, but Telea licked eagerly anyway. 

After a while, Telea rose, and programmed Rospar.  The robot moved to between Victoria’s legs and used one arm to spread Victoria’s cunt lips with a speculum, and then began inserting a range of devices into Victoria’s fuckhole, one after another.  While it did this, Telea moved to suck on Victoria’s tits.

When Rospar was done with Victoria’s cunt, Telea programmed it again, and the robot began to carry out an ultrasound, while Telea returned to Victoria’s pussy and resumed licking.

As Rospar was finishing, the Rapehound ejaculated into Victoria’s mouth.  Victoria swallowed, and swallowed again, and then sat up and pulled Telea towards her.  The two girls shared a passionate kiss, and Vice could tell that Victoria was sharing a mouthful of monster cum with Telea.  As they kissed, the Rapehound lifted a leg and pissed on Victoria a little.

Soon afterwards, Telea and Rospar returned.

“What’s the verdict?” asked Vice.

“She’s definitely pregnant,” said Telea.

“Ultrasound confirms a litter of three Rapehound pups,” said Rospar.  “Expected gestation period: three months.”

Amy and Cunt had come over to join them.

“You can just abort them after we escape, surely?” said Amy.

“Negative,” said Rospar.  “Rapehounds are well adapted to ensure breeding.  Terminating the litter may be severely dangerous for Victoria.  She is safest by carrying them to term.”

“Will it cause her any harm to do so?” asked Vice.

“Not harm,” said Rospar.  “It is likely the pregnancy will generate strong maternal and sexual instincts in her to the cub.  She will want to nurse them.  When they reach maturity, she will be motivated to let them fuck her at will, and she will likely also have a powerful instinct to find other human females for them to rape.”

That would be interesting.  Vice would have to deal with it later.

“Well, she’s only got two tits,” he said.  “I guess we’ll have to get some of the other girls lactating to share the load of nursing.”

Amy instinctively covered her tits at this, wincing, and Vice made a note in his head that the girls who least wanted to breastfeed a wolf pup would be the ones it would be most fun to force to do so.

“It may help,” said Rospar, “but Rapehound pups can also derive nutrients from the vaginal juices of their mother.  She can have one pup on each breast, and the third licking her groin.”

Victoria was going to have a fun time as a mother, it seemed.

There was nothing further they could do that night, so Vice took all three of the remaining girls to bed with him, and spend an enjoyable evening kissing Telea and fucking Amy’s mouth while Cunt licked his ass.  He fell asleep with his dick inside Amy, as Telea whispered that she loved him.

===

They awoke to the sound of Rospar chirping.

“Captain Vice!  I am receiving a transmission!”

Vice pulled his cock out of Amy’s mouth and scrambled to his feet.  Behind him the other girls awoke, groggy.

“It is the Guild Ship Hartego Bay, Captain,” said Rospar.  “The captain reports that she has arrived in-system, and her sensors have located our camp on Persephone Nine.  She is now moving at sub-light speeds and expects to commence entry in just under eight hours.”

Eight hours.  Vice looked at the sun.  They had awoken late.  Eight hours would be just as the sun was beginning to set again.  

They just had to hold on for another eight hours.

He nodded at Rospar, and then grabbed Telea and pushed her up against the camp wall.  He pushed his cock into her twat, and kissed her, and quickly fucked her until he reached orgasm, to clear his mind.  The beautiful blonde ex-lesbian wiggled with delight at being used so forcefully and decisively, and orgasmed shortly before he did.

When he was done, he told Cunt to lick Telea clean, and then went to inspect the camp’s defences.

There was little to do.  Vice could see no further way to be better prepared.

“Rospar,” he said to the robot.  “I want you to stay within sight of Victoria today.  When the Hartego Bay is visible to the human eye on descent, I want you to do what it takes to bring Victoria inside the camp and keep the Rapehounds out.  Can you manage that?”

“Violence may be necessary, Captain,” Rospar advised.

“Violence is authorised,” said Vice.

He moved on to the girls.

“Telea, Amy, Cunt,” he said, “we are leaving this planet today.”

“Yes, Master,” said the girls.

“Take up your guns,” he told them.  “Watch the perimeter.  They have a good charge, but don’t waste shots.  Wait until the Galliard are within your effective range before shooting.  I want you to take positions on the landward side of the camp barricade.  The aim is to give the impression the beachward approach is under-defended.”

“Yes, sir,” they said again.

Vice looked at them.  They were clearly scared out of their minds.  Cunt had experienced the “mercy” of the Galliard first-hand, and the other girls had seen Cunt’s transformation, and the life of Female Pig, and the cruelty of the Galliard devices.  That was how the Galliard had treated them when they were mostly compliant.  They had to be imagining what the Galliard would do to them if they dared to raise guns against them, and then failed to escape.

For Vice it was easy enough: the Galliard would kill him.  The girls, though, would live a long, long time, as fucktoys, cows, and breeders – but probably not with enough brain-power or self-awareness to really appreciate their misery.

“We *are* leaving this planet today,” said Vice again.  “And if anyone falls today, it will be me before you, do you understand?  What makes me deserve to own you is my willingness to defend you.  I don’t want any stupid sacrifices, do you understand me?”

They nodded – but Vice wasn’t convinced.  He knew Telea would sacrifice anything for him, and Cunt’s new personality saw her value as nothing compared to the slightest pleasure of a single male.  Amy, at least, might prioritise herself if told to – but she had always been unpredictable.

He sighed.

“This is our last day on Persephone Nine,” he said.  “One way or another.  And it has been my absolute pleasure to own you, to rape you, and to help you find the happiness that you have found in slavery.”

The blushes on the girls’ faces showed they took this as the affection he intended it as.  They *had* found happiness, in the most unlikely and abusive of circumstances.

Then the sound came to them – calls, echoing from the jungle.  He had heard them before – a high whooping sound, like an air raid siren crossed with a wolf.

Not Rapehounds.  Galliard.  The Galliard war party were only hours away.

The final struggle was upon them.

===

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=== 

Vice and his harem make their final preparations to resist the Galliard and escape Persephone Nine.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Breeding Switch

The Hallfour School accepted only the brightest of girls into its prestigious classes, and its founder, billionaire philanthropist Jeffrey Hallfour, had developed an outstanding reputation in the world of education as a result.

If you were a parent who wanted your daughter to grow up to be a brilliant, confident, feminist professional, then there was no question that she absolutely *had* to be enrolled at Hallfour.

But Jeffrey Hallfour did not ultimately believe that confident feminists was what the world actually needed in its boardrooms and parliaments.  Sure, it was good to have talented young interns and secretaries, but at the end of the day a woman’s place was in birthing stirrups, not an executive office.

And so Jeffrey had ensured that there was one special class that every young student at his academy took twice a week.  It was called “Empowerment”, and it consisted of hypnotising the girls for an hour, in a dark lecture theatre with flashing lights and loud conflicting noises. 

It was no secret that hypnotism was taking place.  The school said it was to give the girls confidence and self-worth – and, indeed, the girls did come out of it feeling good about themselves and ready to seize their dreams.

But the hypnotism was also burying a deep internal switch in every girl – a switch that would lie completely dormant until long after the girl had graduated and entered the workforce.  A switch that would not be flipped until the girl’s 25th birthday.

The switch revolved around one key phrase: “Naked, helpless, and pregnant to a man you hate.”

At first it appeared in the girls’ dreams.  They would wake up after their birthday wondering why they were thinking of those strange words.  They would begin to have vivid dreams of going naked in public, of being unable to perform basic tasks, and of having unprotected sex with a man in their life who they completely reviled.

Sometimes they would wake up orgasming from these dreams.

Then the thoughts started to appear in their waking lives.  They would find themselves unconsciously doodling the words on pieces of paper, accidentally typing them into emails, and occasionally saying them out loud, in a quiet, speculative voice.

They were usually unaware that they had ceased all birth control some months ago, or that they were buying pharmaceutical products intended to increase their sex drive and promote their fertility.

Then, at the most fertile point of their menstrual cycle, about two months after their 25th birthday, they would seek out the man they hated most in their immediate circle of acquaintances, and do whatever it took to get him to ejaculate in their unprotected womb. 

They wouldn’t know they were doing it.  Their mind would go blank.  Everything they did in order to get impregnated would make no mark on their memory.  They would have no awareness of their behaviour – until they finally took a pregnancy test, and saw a positive result, at which point the full circumstances of how they had been impregnated would come back to them, filling them with horror and shame.

In the event that the pregnancy didn’t take on the first try, the girl would seek out another man she hated at the peak of her cycle every month, again and again, in a slutty cycle of seduction and rape, until she fell pregnant.

Jenny, who was in the middle of bitter divorce proceedings with her ex-husband on her 25th birthday, found herself arriving naked at his house and begging him to fuck her, the way that he had fucked her best friends while they were married.  She was loud enough that the neighbours heard, and came out to see her standing there naked in his doorway, pleading with him to fuck her. 

Her ex told her that he would only fuck her if she agreed to give him everything in the divorce, leaving her penniless and destitute, and she didn’t think twice – she signed the papers on the spot, desperate to get his cum into her womb.

He would not, of course, be paying any child support once she got pregnant.  In fact, no one would even believe he was the father, given the large number of men she had confessed to fucking during their marriage in the divorce settlement she had signed.

Anna was also in legal proceedings on her 25th birthday – giving evidence at trial, that a family friend had raped her at a party a year ago.  But after the first day of evidence, she lured the accused into the male toilets, stripped naked in front of him, and begged him to impregnate her.  He photographed her nude, cupping her tits and spreading her pussy for him, and filmed her confessing that she was a cocktease who had lied in court.

The photographs and film were tendered in court the next day, and distributed to the jury, and eventually distributed to the media.  The tabloids published the full nude pictures of her, under the headline “COCKTEASE SLUT”, and she was subsequently convicted of perjury and sent to prison for a year.  She would end up having her baby in jail, but she agreed to let her rapist visit her for “conjugal visits” every two weeks, where he would re-rape her in a trailer, as the necessary tradeoff to avoid his multi-million-dollar defamation lawsuit.

For Kia, a lesbian, the man she hated most in all the world was Evan, who had seduced her bisexual girlfriend Rose away from her.  So when her breeding trigger kicked in, she found herself knocking on Evan’s door and confessing that, even though she was a lesbian, she *really* wanted Evan to impregnate her, and she would do anything if only he would fuck her hetero-virginal cunt and put a baby into it…

For Julie, a police officer, the trigger kicked in while she was wrestling with a criminal in a back alley.  She had chased him half a suburb from a burglary-in-progress, over fences and through backyards, and when she had finally cornered him, he had had the gall to slap her once in the face and punch her twice in the tits as she struggled with him. 

She had just pinned him to the ground – where he had further managed to bring his knee up hard against her cunt not once but twice – when she felt herself suddenly go limp.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.  “Rape me.  Please.  And then I’ll let you go.”  And she found herself unbuttoning her police shirt, and pulling up her bra, so that he could feel her tits – or punch them again, if he felt so inclined – and then pulling down her pants and panties.

The criminal did rape her there, in the alleyway, impregnating her on the first try, but he also took photos, to blackmail her, and over coming months Julie found herself forced to fuck him again, and his friends, and help them in their crimes, and find them other women to rape – including, eventually, some of her fellow female police officers…

And for all these women, the pregnancy was only the beginning.  Because they had two other imperatives – naked, and helpless.

As their bellies swelled with humiliating new life, and their tits grew heavy with milk, the women found it progressively harder and more unpleasant to wear clothes.  They stopped wearing them at home, and then found themselves first going without panties and bras in public, and then later finding excuses to bare their tits or cunts discreetly in places like their private office, or while driving from place to place.

And then finally they would realise they were completely nude in a public place, with no memory of having undressed, and no idea where they had hidden their clothes. 

And at the same time they would find themselves growing stupider.  Their minds felt clouded with pink noise, overly focused on their wet cunts and their swelling, milky tits.  They would have trouble with basic tasks, growing worse and worse at their job, and needing to seek out male assistance more and more often.

It would soon become apparent that they were losing the skill to do anything other than the basic duties of breeding.  They could do domestic chores well enough – providing they were naked.  They could fuck, and please a man.  And they could watch their baby develop inside them, and wait for it to be born – at which point they would resume seeking out men who they hated in order to be reimpregnated.

And thus every woman who graduated from the Hallfour School would find herself a pregnant, breeding bimbo within a few months of their 25th birthday.  Some would be kept on by their employers as secretaries or decorations.  Some would turn to prostitution to pay their pregnancy bills and feed their children.  Others would wind up marrying a man – sometimes the father of their child, sometimes someone else they hated (because they were going to have to keep fucking men they hated, regardless of who they married) – and becoming a perpetually-pregnant housewife.

But they all found, invariably, that after their 25th birthday, none of their opinions or preferences ever mattered again.

And that was exactly how Jeffrey Hallfour liked it.

===

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Female students at the Hallfour school are implanted with a hypnotic trigger which makes them go baby-crazy on their 25th birthday.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Transformed By Love

Love does funny things to a woman. 

Striving to please her man had become so much of her life she barely remembered who she had been before she met him.  She’d dyed her hair blonde for him, gotten a boob job for him.  She’d learned to giggle.  She tried to become stupider for him.  She’d learned never to cover her slutty whore tits, even in public. 

Even so, it was hard for her when he invited her former colleagues at the Faculty of Women’s Studies to her birthday so that they could meet the new her, and even harder when he told her she had to explain to them that she regretted writing all those papers on feminism and then beg them all to rape her…

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Love does funny things to a woman...

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Silver Leash, Part 27

(Click here to buy Book One in the store!)

Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven

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Madison had wanted to come, and Amy too, but Jake had convinced them that they couldn’t.  It wasn’t hard – Daniela had been very explicit on the phone call – repeating the words that Gwen was forcing her to say – that Jake was to come alone, “and not bring any of his skanky whore friends”.

“Gwen found our cameras,” he told the other girls.  “She’s threatening to go to the police.  She holds all the cards.”

The tearful quaver in Daniela’s voice had made Jake’s heart ache, and filled him with intense guilt.  Her final words on the call, forced upon her by Gwen, were, “I’m sorry I’m a stupid brown-skinned whore,” and Jake knew that she was about to start sobbing as soon as she hung up.

Jake wanted to punch Gwen.  He wanted to hurt her.  He wanted to…

But he had no choices.  Not yet.

Madison drove Jake to somewhere near the Love Mansion, out of sight of the gates, and Jake walked from there.  He made his way down the external garage, and knocked at the side door of the external garage.

“It’s me,” he said, lamely.  “Jake.”

“Come in,” said Gwen’s voice from inside.  “It’s open.”

Jake stepped inside.

The garage was well lit – and so the first thing Jake’s eyes focused on was Daniela.

She was certainly worth looking at.

She was sprawled, nude, across the bonnet of the Aston Martin, tits up, her head pointing downwards as it hung over the front fender, and her legs upwards, spread to either side of the car’s windshield.  Her arms and legs were bound in place with tie-down straps, immobilising her.  Her panties were stuffed into her mouth, and her naked cunt was splayed lewdly open by her position.

Buried in Daniela’s cunt was a hammer.  Almost the entirety of its handle was shoved into her pussy, with the head visible between her legs.

Gwen was standing nearby, perfect in her white pleated tennis skirt, white knee-high socks and white sweater, a headband holding back her flaming red hair.  The absolute image of a rich, privileged, beautiful bitch.

“Jake Niles,” said Gwen, with satisfaction.  “Professional pervert.  Did you have fun, spying on me, Jake?”

Honestly, it *had* been fun.  

But what he said was, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” said Gwen.  “Then I guess there’s no reason that you can’t untie your little Mexican bitch and leave.  Right?  If you’re not worried about me going to the police?”

Jake did not untie Daniela and leave.

“I thought so,” said Gwen.  “Take your dick out, Jake.”

He assumed he had misheard her.

“What?” he said.

“Take your dick out of your pants,” said Gwen.  “So I can see it.”

She made a disgusted face at his reaction.

“Oh, gross, not like that,” she said.  “I wouldn’t go within a thousand miles of your dirty little poor-boy cock.  But I want Burrito to see it.  I want her to see that either you’re a pathetic little limp-dick, or else that you get hard from seeing her tied up like this.”

“Come on,” said Jake.  “We can just talk about this…”

“Take your *dick* out, Jake,” said Gwen, in an icy voice, “or so help me I will telephone the Five Hills Police Station right now.  The local officers basically *work* for daddy, so even if I didn’t have evidence of you being a peeper creep, they’d probably be very happy to show you what it feels like to have a nightstick up your ass if I asked nicely.”

Jake awkwardly undid his pants and pulled out his cock.

His cock *was* hard.  Despite everything, seeing Daniela like this was an erotic fantasy.  But more than that, his cock was eager.  Not just for Daniela – but for Gwen, too.  It wanted to fuck her.  It wanted to *hatefuck* her.

“Look, Burrito,” laughed Gwen.  “This is how your pathetic little boyfriend has always wanted you, except that he was too dickless to make it happen.  He doesn’t want to save you – he wants to *rape* you.”

With her panties in her mouth, Daniela could not make any sound – only look at Jake with big, tearful eyes.

Jake reached out experimentally towards Gwen with the Leash – and found only an icy, impenetrable wall.  Gwen’s confidence was absolute.

“What do you want, Gwen?” asked Jake.  “Why did you call me here?”

“What do you *think* I want, Jake?” asked Gwen.  “I want you to understand that I *own* you now.  From now on, you are going to do exactly what I want, whenever I want it.  You’re going to be my little slave, and in return I won’t send you to jail.”

She laughed.  “And you have to understand, Jake, that I only *barely* want you as a slave, because you’re poor and gross, so it will *not* be difficult for me to change my mind and call the cops after all.  You’re going to have to work hard to keep me happy.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Jake.  “Don’t be a bitch.  What do you really want?  Money?  Your modelling career must be in trouble, with that weight you’re putting on, right?”

Gwen’s smile vanished.  He felt her confidence shake at his (totally unfounded) comment about her body – but it didn’t crack.  “Don’t tell me what I want, Jake,” she said.  “And *don’t* tell me what you think of my body.  You don’t tell me anything. I tell *you* things now.  Why don’t you stroke that cock of yours while you look at your little brown-skinned fucktoy?”

Jake hesitated, so Gwen snapped, “Do it, Jake.  Stroke your cock.”

Jake put his hand on his dick and began to slowly pump it as he looked at Daniela.

“See, Burrito?” said Gwen.  “See how horny your humiliation makes him?  And if he likes that, I bet he’ll like this.”

She walked over to Daniela, and reached down and pulled Daniela’s panties out of her mouth.  Then she lifted the front of her skirt and pulled her own panties to one side, and then pressed her cunt against Daniela’s face.

“Lick,” she commanded.

From where he stood, Jake couldn’t really see Gwen’s groin, or Daniela’s face, but he saw the way Daniela’s body tensed up, and her thighs tried to pull together.  He knew that she was feeling humiliated, and violated, and helpless, and panicky.

And he also knew that she was getting incredibly wet.  Because Jake, in all his stupidity and arrogance, had used the Leash on Daniela when he had had made her kiss Amy at school.  He had Leashed her – and given her a kink for being *forced* to fuck women.

Gwen was raping Daniela, and Daniela didn’t *like* it – in fact, she almost certainly *hated* it – but she was still getting aroused by it – aroused by her own rape – because of what Jake had done to her.

He could see it, with the Leash – the ember of arousal glowing inside Daniela, pulsing each time she pushed her tongue into Gwen’s fuckhole or sucked on her clitoris.

“I’m not even a lesbian, Jake,” said Gwen, as she mashed her groin against Daniela’s helpless face.  “I hate dykes.  They’re disgusting.  But sometimes we all need to make sacrifices to put little brown sluts in their place.  Forcing Burrito to suck my cunt will be educational for her.”

She leaned forward and grabbed the head of the hammer in Daniela’s cunt, and pumped it in and out of her pussy a couple of times.

“Won’t it, Burrito?” she asked.

Jake reached out again with the Leash.  Despite all her protestations, he could see that either Gwen *was* enjoying Daniela’s tongue, or that she had found it erotic to order Jake around.  She was aroused – very aroused.  That was good.

But the icy shell of confidence was still there.

“You need to know, Jake,” said Gwen, as she kept humping Daniela’s face, “that I *have* considered the possibility you might attack me.  If anything happens to me, Cat and Juno will find out what you’ve been doing, and you had better believe that will have consequences far worse than anything I might do to you.”

That was good.  That meant that she hadn’t *already* told Cat and Juno – or anyone else. 

But even if Jake had intended to attack her, she was out of his reach.  She could have that hammer in her hand before Jake got to her.

As if in response to his thoughts, Gwen pulled away from Daniela – almost reluctantly – and readjusted her panties and skirt.  She walked around to the side of the car – even farther from Jake – and smiled.

“Look, Burrito,” she said.  “Jake just watched you get raped, and he’s still rock hard and playing with his dick.  I bet he’s sad I stopped raping you.”

Jake wasn’t sad – he was furiously mad at Gwen for even *touching* Daniela, let alone raping her – but it might have been better for them all if Gwen had brought herself to the edge of orgasm, leaving her stupid and horny.

“But what Jake really wants to do is rape you himself,” said Gwen.

Jake wished that his cock hadn’t twitched in his hand so obviously when Gwen said that.

“Why don’t you go over there and fuck her with the hammer, Jake?” said Gwen.  “Look how wet the little slut is.  She wants it.”

Daniela shook her head furiously. 

“No, Jake,” she said, able to speak now that she no longer had her panties or Gwen’s cunt blocking her mouth.  “I don’t care about going to jail.  And you know she’s going to do it eventually, when she’s done playing with you.  Don’t give her what she wants.  Just kick her ass.”

But Jake was already walking towards Daniela.  He tried to make eye contact with her, desperately hoping she would understand what he was about to do.

“It’s no use, Daniela,” he said.  “She’s in control here.  And besides, you know that you want me.  We can both see that you’re sopping wet.  It won’t be unpleasant.”

“Jake, no…” moaned Daniela.  But Jake was in front of her now, his dick inches from her face.

“Watch out, Jake, bitches like her sometimes bite!” laughed Gwen.  “Slap her face to calm her down.”

Jake opened his mouth to say that wasn’t necessary – but then closed it.  Instead he looked down at Daniela.

“Don’t you fucking bite me,” he said.  “I’m going to use you, and you’re going to behave yourself, as surely as you’re a stupid Mexican cunt.”

And he slapped her sharply across the cheek.

Part of him wanted to cry at hurting Daniela.  But that part wasn’t his cock, which twitched with pleasure at the satisfying feeling of his palm hitting her cheek, and dripped a drop of pre-cum onto her cheek.

Daniela started to cry.  Were they real tears?  He couldn’t tell, but they almost made his dick soft.  She looked so damn pretty, crying, but he would have given anything to dry those tears with his kisses and make her safe.

Instead, he pushed his cock into her open mouth.

She accepted it, and he felt her tongue run over the tip of his dick, tasting his juices.

He leaned forward, his belly against her tits, and grabbed the handle of the hammer, and began to slowly fuck Daniela with it.

Her mouth felt so damn good on his dick.  Jake had never had a proper blowjob before.  He didn’t know if it would feel better or worse if Daniela were willing, but he couldn’t honestly imagine how it could feel better.  The fact that this girl who he liked – maybe loved, even – and who he was deeply sexually attracted to – was displayed nude and humiliated for him to fuck was incredibly erotic.  It was so wrong – and the fact that it was wrong made it even more pleasurable.  He was raping a girl who he had fantasised about, and he even had moral *permission* to rape, because Gwen was forcing him.

It was so good that it almost made him forget about his plan.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned.  “You’re right.  It feels amazing.  I can’t believe I was romancing this girl like some stupid beta cuck instead of just raping her.”

“You like it?” said Gwen, smiling.

“Oh yes,” said Jake.  “When you have her displayed like this, it’s so easy to see she’s not really a person – just a set of holes.”

Gwen laughed with delight.

“I was thinking maybe you get to me to rape some of my other friends,” said Jake.  “Tell me to do it, and I’ll tell them if they don’t let me then you’ll send me to jail.  They’ll let me, if I say that.  They’ll let me use all of their holes, and slap them, and call them names, to keep me out of jail.”

“I like the way you think, Jake,” said Gwen.  “I think we can make that happen.  We’ll start with that big-titted Amy bitch you hang around with, and then move on to that red-headed trollop who was flirting with my boyfriend.”

Jake had a momentary image of raping Amy, and his cock involuntarily flexed inside Daniela’s mouth, even as his mind was disgusted with the idea.

“Why don’t you get down by her ear?” Jake suggested.  “And tell Daniela what a whore she is.”

“Not Daniela,” corrected Gwen.  “Burrito.”

“That’s right,” said Jake.  “God, Burrito, your mouth feels so good to rape.”  He fucked the hammer in and out of her twat harder.

Gwen came over and knelt beside Jake’s legs.  She leaned in and opened her mouth to whisper in Daniela’s ear.

“After all,” said Jake.  “We’d better enjoy your dad’s expensive cars while we can.  Because he’s going to lose them all when the revenue department comes for him.”

Gwen looked up at Jake sharply – and as she did, Jake grabbed her hair, close to the back of her head, hard with one hand.

He summoned the voice that Madison had taught him – the dom voice.

“Stay on your knees, bitch,” he spat.

Gwen’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Jake activated the Leash, and lunged at Gwen’s defences – but they were still resisting.  Cracking, laced with imperfections, trembling – but still resisting.

“What are you talking about?” asked Gwen.

“Did you think it was only you we were spying on?” said Jake.  His cock was still in Daniela’s mouth – he couldn’t risk Daniela saying something now and interrupting him.  But the rest of his body was turned to face Gwen.  “Did you think we wouldn’t also get footage of your dad?”

“But what does daddy have to do with this?” asked Gwen.

“Your daddy has been a very naughty daddy,” said Jake.  “And he’s wagered a lot of money on an investment that didn’t pan out for him.  And now he’s desperately moving money around to try and hide the fact that he is in deep, deep trouble.”

Gwen looked at him – and tears formed in her eyes.  

“That’s why…” she said.  “That’s why my credit cards keep getting declined…”

Jake almost opened his own mouth in surprise.  He had played a bluff.  They had seen no such thing on the cameras – caught no such footage.  Could he have accidentally stumbled onto something that was true?

It didn’t matter.  Gwen *thought* it was true – or at least she was considering it.

And that was all Jake needed.

“You’re going to be *poor*,” he spat.  “You fat redheaded slut.”

Gwen’s defences shattered.  On her knees, her hair gripped by a boy she hated, and the twin terrors of poverty and weight gain in her mind, her confidence finally broke.  The icy wall around her core turned to dust.

Jake reached in, and seized the ember of her arousal.

He searched through her mind for something to Leash it to, but all her thoughts were of what Jake had just said.  It might be funny to give her a fetish for being poor – or a fetish for her own father, for that matter – but neither of them got Jake what he needed.

There were only two other thoughts in her head.  One was Jake’s hand gripping her hair, and the other was Jake’s cock in Daniela’s mouth.

CLICK.

CLICK.

He Leashed her a fetish for being dominated by Jake – and then a second fetish, for watching Jake fuck other girls.

There was an explosion of pain in his brain, and he had to use every ounce of control he had to not double over, clutching his head.  And still, he was grateful for his practice with Madison.  When he had first acquired the Leash, using it twice back-to-back might have killed him.

Gwen’s expression had changed – from one of horror, to one of embarrassed sexual pleasure, as her cunt began to respond to the firm grip that Jake had on her.

And he wasn’t done yet.

He pulled his cock out of Daniela’s mouth, and pointed it at Gwen.

“Open your mouth, cunt,” he said.

She did – and the second she did, he Leashed her again.

CLICK.

A fetish for obeying.  Obeying him, he thought, although it might just be obeying men.

His head began to pound.  He tasted blood in his mouth.

He shoved his cock into her mouth and began to facefuck her.

It felt better than Daniela.  Not because Gwen was a more skilled cocksucker – she wasn’t – but because not only did she hate it, but Jake genuinely didn’t care.  Putting his cock into Daniela had been a necessary ruse, to get Gwen to let down her defences, but part of Jake had hated it.  He would have to do a lot to make it up to Daniela – if she would let him.

But Gwen’s misery was pure pleasure.  This was a racist spoiled bitch who had ruined lives, who had literally raped Daniela for fun, and who was getting exactly what she deserved.

“You belong to *me* now, Gwen,” he told her.  “From now on, *you* are going to do exactly what *I* want, whenever I want it.  And not because I’ll send you to jail – but because you are a disgusting little slut who *wants* to serve me.  Because being my fuckdoll makes your cunt wet.”

She had no idea of the existence of the Leash, and no awareness that he had mind-controlled her.  So she had no explanation for the fact that she was realising that Jake’s words were true – that she *was* getting sopping wet from Jake abusing her and raping her – other than the conclusion that Jake was right, and that she was a disgusting little slut.

She started to cry – and her tears were infinitely more erotic than Daniela’s had been.

Jake could have kept skullfucking her until he came down her throat.  But he wanted something more.  He pulled his cock out of her mouth.

“Strip,” he ordered.  “I want to see your tits and your cunt.”

Gwen immediately knew where this was going, and her tears intensified.  But she pulled off her cute sweater, and unbuttoned the shirt beneath it, and then took off her bra, exposing her relatively small, perfect tits.  She began to work on removing her skirt.

“Jake…” whispered Daniela.

He turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry about what I had to do, Daniela,” he said.  “But we’ve won.  Look at her.”

Daniela smiled, thinly.  

“I know,” she said.  “It’s all right.  Your cock… tasted good.  But this is your first time, right?”

Jake blushed.  It was.

Daniela didn’t need him to say it aloud.

“Jake… I know she’s tempting,” she said.  “But don’t go in her cunt.”

“Why not?” he said.  “She’s a virgin too.  I want to take that from her.  Why shouldn’t I?”

Daniela sighed.  “Because you owe it to Amy.”

Jake understood immediately – and felt a wave of guilt.  Of course Amy would want to be his first time.  She wouldn’t be *jealous* if he fucked Gwen – in fact, her Leash would make her aroused by it.  But she would still be sad.  Amy would want his first time in a girl’s pussy to be with her.  

And Jake wanted that too.

“You’re right,” he said.

Gwen had finished taking off her clothes – and her cunt was stunning.  Almost pure white skin, with pouty pink lips, not a single trace of hair, and a clit so long that it peeked out from between her labia even when her legs were together.

His cock was rock hard – but he began to tuck it back into his pants.

A look of hope spread over Gwen’s face.

“Jake, you idiot,” said Daniela, still tied to the car.  “Just her pussy, you understand?  That’s all Amy will want.  I’ll make her see.”

“What do you mean?” said Jake.

“Asses don’t count, Jake,” said Daniela.  “There’s a bottle of lube on that bench.  Make her hurt.”

“No,” moaned Gwen.  “No, please, no, no.  I’ve never done it there.  Please…”

“Bend her over me,” suggested Daniela.  “Let her see if she still likes it when I *bite* her fucking clit.”

“No!” wailed Gwen. 

But Jake was already grabbing her by the hair and marching her over to the car.  He pushed her, so that she was sprawled across the car, her groin against Daniela’s face, her face on Daniela’s belly, her ass pointing towards Jake.

“For the last time, you stupid white slut,” growled Daniela, from between Gwen’s legs, “I’m not Mexican – I’m Puerto Rican.”  And with that, she bit Gwen’s clitoris – hard – and Gwen squealed with pain.

Jake went to the workbench at the side of the garage to grab the lube that Daniela had indicated – and was surprised to find it was real lube intended for skin, not machine lubricant.

(Jake had no way of knowing about Daniela’s encounter with Gwen’s father, or that Gwen’s father had been planning to anally rape Daniela if he had not been interrupted by Gwen, and had prepared lube for such an occasion.  Which is fortunate, because Jake also didn’t know that putting machine grease on your dick or ass is an extremely stupid idea and he might otherwise have made an unhealthy mistake.)

He returned to Gwen, and squirted some of the lube onto Gwen’s ass, enjoying her moans of fear, and then pressed his hard cock against her anus, and slowly forced it inside her.

She started to scream then – maybe because Jake was raping her asshole, or maybe because Daniela had resumed viciously biting her clit, but probably both – and Jake had to reach up and cover her mouth with his hand as he began to pump in and out of her.


Her ass was so tight!  It was like having his dick squeezed by a vice – almost painful at first, but then, as he got used to it, incredibly pleasurable.  And the fact that his pleasure was causing Gwen so much misery just made it better.

He thought about leashing her again and giving her an anal fetish – but he didn’t need to.  She would obey him now, even if he wanted to fuck her ass, and honestly it was hotter if she *didn’t* like this.  As a complete, irredeemable villain, Gwen was someone that Jake felt morally comfortable to rape even if she was crying and screaming, and he saw no reason to dilute that experience.

“Use your hands to fuck that hammer into Daniela,” he told Gwen.  “But gently.  You’re trying to pleasure her, not hurt her.  Thank her for treating your bitchy little twat the way you deserve.”

He kept pounding her ass as she masturbated Daniela.

“I’m going to do this to your friends Cat and Juno, do you understand?” he told her.  “I’m going to turn them into my obedient little sex-dolls, just like you.  I’m going to humiliate and degrade them until they regret every bitchy thing they’ve ever done.”

Gwen just moaned.

“Show me you understand,” he told her.  “Tell me things I could do to your friends to sexually degrade or humiliate them.”

Gwen didn’t answer, so Daniela bit her clit even harder.

“Ow!” squealed Gwen.  “You could… rape them.  Make them expose their tits to people.  You could… make them fuck each other.  Or your friends.  You could cum on their faces and make them go out in public without cleaning it off.  You could…”

Jake felt himself about to cum.  He was going to cum into Gwen’s non-consenting ass.

As his orgasm approached, he reached out and made one further Leash.

He connected Gwen’s arousal to the idea of her friends being raped, enslaved and humiliated.

CLICK.

He orgasmed, hard, into Gwen’s ass.  It was the best orgasm he had ever had in his life.

And then he staggered back, pulling out of her. 

His nose was bleeding.  He felt faint.

Four leashes.  It was too many.

Desperately, he fumbled at the straps holding Daniela in place.

“Help me get her free,” he told Gwen.  

Even freshly ass-raped and traumatised, Gwen hurried to obey him, freeing Daniela’s feet.

Jake got the last strap free just in time.  As Daniela slid off the car to a crouching position on the floor, rubbing her previously-restrained wrists, Jake felt everything going dark.

“Gwen,” he croaked.  “You will keep all of this a secret.  And you will act in the interests of myself and my friends.  Do you understand?”

He didn’t hear the answer.  The room was spinning.  The Leash didn’t make her his slave – it just made her *aroused* from doing certain things.  Like obeying him.  Like being dominated by him.  Like betraying Cat and Juno.

She could choose not to.  She could choose to call the police and lay charges of rape against him.

He felt Daniela catching him as he fell.

And then unconsciousness took him.

===

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The climactic confrontation - Jake vs Gwen... with Daniela's fate in the balance!

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Breeders’ Manor

The latest reality show from the makers of Teasers and Rape Babies was “Breeders’ Manor”, and its multi-million dollar prize pool and lavish production values made every young woman want to take part.  The winners of previous seasons had their own fashion and perfume lines – it was every girl’s dream.

Contestants were selected on the basis of their youth, beauty and – importantly – fertility.  Once a girl passed a battery of tests to determine that she was capable of conceiving a child, she signed a selection of forms, agreeing to the conditions of the show and waiving her rights to bring lawsuits or make rape allegations.

Then the 24 successful young women were taken to Breeders’ Manor, a sprawling opulent mansion located on immaculately landscaped grounds.  While at the manor, they were dressed in the sexiest, most expensive clothing; accommodated in lushly appointed private suites; and given free run of the very best food and alcohol the world had to offer.

Of course, the food and drink was laced with drugs, which increased the women’s fertility, heightened their sex drive, and reduced their decision-making capacity.  Locked in the manor, their cunts wet and their brains muddled, the girls were given to drama, ditziness and passionate lesbian sex – all of which was captured in explicit detail by the camera team, both with handheld and hidden cameras.

But the central gimmick of Breeders’ Mansion occurred once each fortnight, when the girls were gathered for the Breeder’s Challenge.  Every challenge presented an opportunity for the girls to fall pregnant, in a way that would be humiliating to explain to anyone afterwards. 

Any girl who did fall pregnant was off the show.  The conditions of her contract required her to carry the baby to term, required her to attend daily painful and humiliating public milkings of her breasts (the show sold bottles of the girl’s breast milk as premium tie-in merchandising) – and of course her waiver of her right to make rape allegations lasted until she gave birth.  The show would regularly publish updates of the whereabouts of the pregnant girls, so that anyone who wanted to use them could find and rape them.

But a girl who could last six months – 12 impregnation attempts – without conceiving a baby would win a share of the lucrative prize pool, along with fashion and advertising contracts sufficient to start a personal celebrity empire.

Fortnight one is simple enough.  Each girl takes turns going into the camera confessional booth.  Once inside, they strip naked and face an automated camera, sitting with their tits uncovered and legs spread.  In front of them is a box, containing a condom full of recently ejaculated sperm, and a list of the names of seven men in their life, chosen by the show’s research team.

The girl finds that the seven names include her closest male relatives, her closest male friends, and any male employer.  The girl simply needed to open the condom, push the contents up her pussy, and masturbate it into her womb, while reading from the list.  For each name on the list, she is instructed to look at the camera, and describe the way she thinks that man would most enjoy using her to ejaculate.

Some girls balk at this – but their contract stipulates if they pull out before completing the first challenge, they’ll owe the show a stupendous amount of money, and the condom will be forced up their pussy anyway.  Most girls blush, many are completely humiliated, but invariably they all go through with it.

“Daddy,” a girl might say, blushing, “I think you’d most enjoy it if I sucked on your dick.  To my brother Toby – I know you like anal sex with your girlfriends, so I think you might enjoy fucking my ass.  To my friend Gary – I know we’ve known each other since kindergarten; I think you might really like to ejaculate inside my pussy.”

At the end of each fortnight the girls are gathered for the Breeding Circle.  Each girl is led naked out to a campfire, where they each urinate on camera onto a pregnancy test.  The girls who discover they are pregnant inevitably burst into tears, realising they have ruined their life and humiliated themselves for nothing.  Meanwhile, the non-pregnant girl who degraded herself the most that week receives the Good Girl Prize – an immediate cash bonus, and she gets to choose one of the losing girls to either rape herself, or watch being raped by the camera crew.  After all the drama and lust of the fortnight, the fortnight’s Good Girl inevitably has someone they want to get revenge on, and their violation forms the capstone of the episode.

Over the credits, the teary losers reflect on what sluts they have been, how stupid they were, and what they will do now that they are nothing more than lactating breeders.

In fortnight two, the girls dress up in slutty clubwear, with no underwear, and hit the town.  They have to last to 1 am in a popular nightclub, following four simple rules:

  • They can’t refuse a man’s attention.
  • They have to drink any drink bought for them.
  • If a man buys them a drink, they have to pay exclusive attention to him until another man buys them a drink – and rub the man’s cock through his pants as he talks.
  • They have to tell any man who buys them a drink that they have rape fantasies, and that they like men who don’t take no for an answer.

Almost all the girls end the night being raped – sometimes multiple times.  Very few of the men use protection, and inevitably, at the end of the fortnight, more girls find themselves pregnant.

In fortnight three, the remaining girls are paired off in couples.  Each girl is set up on a series of dates with the male relatives of their partner.  Over three nights, she dates three of her partner’s male relatives.  Her goal is to get them to cum inside her, and convince them to cooperate in getting their daughter, granddaughter, sister or cousin pregnant.  The girl’s incentive to succeed is that if she fails to convince at least one of the men to turn on their relative, she will spend the entire weekend being raped non-stop by forty hired men, leaving her almost certainly pregnant and off the show.

Watching a girl cocktease a man into agreeing to impregnate his own daughter – knowing that her own father is receiving the same treatment, and agreeing to the same thing – is always one of the most popular attractions of Breeders’ Manor.

Those men who agree to take part are moved into luxury hotels and provided with an attractive prostitute.  They are then “milked” for their cum several times a day by the prostitute, who sucks them off or gives them handjobs while they watch pornographic footage of their daughters or sisters provided by the show.  Their cum is stored for later weeks.

In fortnight four, for the duration of the fortnight each girl is given a condom of viable sperm every day, and challenged to get it into the pussy of another contestant by any means necessary.  If she hasn’t succeeded by the next morning, she’s forced to drink it, and an equivalent amount of fresh sperm is pushed up her own cunt.

In fortnight five, the girls spend their time coming up with degrading names for themselves (like “Jiggletits Cumdrinker” or “Bitchtwat the Cow”), and degrading sex acts to be performed on themselves (like having their cunt fucked with a toilet scrubbing brush), and then record a video for men who know them where they encourage the men to call them by those names and perform those acts on them.  The girl who makes the most degrading video wins an instant cash prize and immunity from the week’s challenge… but every girl who loses from this point on will be required to legally change her name to the name she has come up with, and be filmed taking part in the sex act she proposed.

The challenge of the fortnight is the “Breeding Olympics”.  Each girl strips naked, and has a water balloon filled with the cum of their male relative carefully pushed into their pussy.  The girls are then required to take part in a range of competitions – beach volleyball, races, tug of war – while trying to avoid popping the balloon in their pussies.  The losers of each game have their tits and ass caned or spanked.

This is always a popular episode.  The audience loves watching some of the girls discover they have fallen pregnant to their own father, and are carrying their own half-sister in their womb.  They adore watching the crying girls fill out the paperwork to legally change their name to “Suckledick Moocow” or “Spermudders Rapejoy”. 

Fortnight six is the “Gate of Sluts”.  Each of the girls is now scheduled to be raped once each day.  If, on any raping, the girl orgasms from her rape, she is entitled to pass through the “Gate of Sluts” – a big symbolic archway erected for the occasion – and is immune from further rapings.  Girls who fail to cum continue being raped each day until they learn how, or until the fortnight ends.  Practically speaking, any girl who hasn’t cum by the end of the fortnight has almost certainly been impregnated.

Fortnight seven is the Daddy-Daughter team-up.  Each girl teams up with her male relative (who may be her father, or her brother, or grandfather, or uncle).  The girl has 48 hours to get as much cum as possible out of her relative.  The girls will be ranked on how much cum they produce, and the entire supply will go into the pussies of the 30% of girls who produce the least.    However, after the first time a girl gets her relative to ejaculate, she is no longer allowed to use her hands.  Girls desperate to avoid being impregnated will suck their brother or uncle’s cock, rub their tits against it, and maybe even let them penetrate their anus or pussy….

Fortnight eight is the Gangbang Encounter.  Each girl is locked in a room with six men, with no limits or repercussions of their behaviour.  If the girl doesn’t want each man to repeatedly ejaculate in her pussy, she has to think fast and make attractive offers to provide them something more entertaining than merely raping her cunt and impregnating her.  A girl will eagerly offer her mouth and anus, beg to be tortured, and even offer to act as the men’s toilet, all to avoid having them cum in her pussy.

Fortnight nine is the Sleeping Beauties.  The girls are drugged every evening, so they will sleep through the night.  They lie in their beds naked, and the producers bring men in to play with them.  The men are drawn from all the people who know the girls in their daily life.  They can do anything they want with the sleeping girls.  If they want to be nice to the girl, they can cum on her face and tits.  But if they want to, they can fuck the girl in the pussy and cum inside her.  The girls are totally reliant on the mercy of the men who know them – and they will never know who has fucked them, or ejaculated on them, during this fortnight.  Girls who fall pregnant here go home knowing that the father is someone they know and see regularly – but with no idea exactly who.

Fortnight ten is the Lesbian Wrestling Challenge.  The girls are paired up in a series of naked wrestling bouts.  Each time a girl gets her opponent to submit, or to orgasm, an attendant steps forward, forces the loser’s legs open, and uses an insemination syringe to squirt one ejaculation of her male relative’s cum up her fuckhole into her womb.  The first girl to get her opponent inseminated three times wins the match.  Winners are allowed out of the competition.  Losers are forced into further matches against other losers.  At this stage the remaining girls can sense the possibility of ultimate victory, and are vicious and ruthless in torturing and raping one another.

Fortnight eleven is Beauty and the Beast.  The girls are given a simple choice – be raped by ten different men, each of whom will ejaculate into her cunt.  Or otherwise, push a single condom of live sperm up her pussy, and then spend one night nude and shackled on all fours in a “presenting” position, with a large horny male dog.

Only one fortnight from victory, most girls choose to minimise their chances of pregnancy, and select the dog.  Sometimes it rapes them.  Sometimes it doesn’t.  But regardless of whether it does, any girl who chooses the dog and then falls pregnant from the single condom of human sperm is required under her contract to thereafter take part in a “wedding”, where she purports to become married to the dog, and to tell people until she delivers the baby that she was impregnated by a male dog, and that she’s breeding a litter of puppies.

At the beginning of the final fortnight, any remaining girls are stripped naked and fitted with a plastic device that spreads their vagina wide open and prevents them from fully closing their legs.  A vibrating capsule is clamped to their clitoris.  They are then placed, along with the other girls, in a large wading pool filled with sticky white sperm, deep enough to submerge them when lying down.  Sperm floods into their fucktunnels.  The arousal from the vibrating clitoris clamp helps provoke their cunts to spasm, guiding the sperm into their wombs.

Each thirty seconds, the girls are expected to open their mouths to swallow a mouthful of the cum in the pool.  When a girl is no longer able to swallow a mouthful without being sick, she is pulled out of the pool, until only one girl is left.  That girl is declared the winner of the challenge, and wins a share of money whether she has been impregnated or not.  The remaining cum in the pool is then slowly pumped into the wombs of the losers over the course of the next three days.

At this point, there is rarely any girl remaining who is not pregnant – although girls who legitimately aren’t pregnant receive the prizes they were promised.  But with a fortnight remaining in the girls’ contracts, it is now time for the production crew of the show to repeatedly rape the girls without consequence.  Their male relatives are also invited to use the girls however they like. 

Last season’s “winner” was Milktits Babymaker.  She made it all the way to the final fortnight without falling pregnant, but was knocked up by the pool of cum.  However, she swallowed more sperm than the only other girl remaining, who also fell pregnant, so she took the glory and the money.  She was a huge crowd favourite – people regularly paid large sums to see her being painfully milked on stage, and her milk sold on Ebay for small fortunes. 

Her leaking tits and bulging belly dressed in the finest designer slutwear, she was the inspiration for an entire cohort of women who looked at her on celebrity websites and fashion labels and said, “I hope I get picked for the next season of Breeders’ Manor!”

===

You can find more stories of impregnation in my e-book Born to Breed, available in the ATR store for only $4.99 USD! It contains 21 hot stories, and your purchase supports me to keep the lights on so I can continue to write! (Click here to view in store.)

===

A reality TV show challenges women to endure slutty impregnation risks - but the real winners are the audience.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Titcage, Part 33

(Buy the complete novel of Titcage now by clicking here!)

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine | Thirty | Thirty-One | Thirty-Two

===

That week Michael told Claire that she would be being taken out of the office for a week for a special project, and so would Slutkitten and Cuntcandy (Claire’s sister Steph).

Claire wanted to know what, but she couldn’t talk with a mouthful of Michael’s cock, so she just waited there, naked, on her knees, for him to explain.

‘You’ll be going into hospital, Fucktwat,’ Michael explained to her, stroking her hair.  ‘We’re going to enlarge your tits and take them up to an E cup.  And Kitten and Candy are long overdue for their own boob jobs; they’ll both be getting D cups.’

Claire felt both scared and excited.  Scared because Titcage were going to change her body, and give her even bigger udders.  But excited because she knew that with bigger tits she would be a more worthwhile person.  She already felt proud whenever she saw her smaller-titted friends, knowing that she would earn more money and please men better because of her larger chest.  With E cups, men would stare at her even more, and although that would make her feel even sluttier and more whorish, she couldn’t deny that she liked getting attention from men.  It made her feel like she wasn’t completely pointless.

She was pleased for Kitten and Candy too.  She had been embarrassed for them and their small tits – and, to be honest, she had often regretted they didn’t have bigger slutmelons when she fucking them, because it would be more fun to play with their boobs if they were bigger.

Michael came in Claire’s mouth, and after he had given her permission to swallow his sperm, Claire thanked him both for the cum, and for arranging to make her udders bigger.

The actual procedure itself was simple.  Claire, Kitten and Candy all went into the hospital together.  They were stripped naked, photographed, measured, and answered questions for a variety of nurses about their medical condition and their sexual history.  Claire and Kitten were both eager to get bigger boobs.  Candy – Steph – was not so eager and tried to run away several times.  Kitten and Claire had to hold her hands tightly to make her do what the doctors wanted and tell the doctors that she was consenting to breast implants.

Claire felt frustrated with Steph.  A part of Claire remembered how she would have felt months ago about this idea – horrified, degraded, and scared – but that was in the past.  Now the laws had changed and women with small boobs were objectively less valuable than women with bigger tits.  If Steph didn’t get this surgery, no one would ever want her.  She was lucky to still be at Titcage with such a comparatively flat chest, and not have been fired.  The law change had sparked a boom in plastic surgery.  It was very expensive now, but Titcage was going to pay all their costs.  The three sluts were very lucky to have this opportunity, and Claire wished Steph could appreciate that.  Besides, Claire was really looking forward to squeezing and licking Steph’s new hooters, and Claire knew now that if a slut refused to cater to your sexual whims you needed to force her.

Eventually the girls were taken into surgery.  Claire went under the anaesthetic, and when she woke up, groggily, she was lying in a hospital bed.  She was completely nude, with no covers over her, and her arms were secured above her head and her legs were secured spread-eagled to the bottom of the bed.

To her satisfaction, though, her tits were bigger.  They felt heavier on her chest, and they bulged in a firm, round, satisfying way that Claire liked.  Or rather, that Fucktwat liked.  It was Claire who had D cup tits.  These big melons belonged to Fucktwat. 

Claire soon learned that Kitten and Candy were in the room with her, on the other side of curtains.  The first doctor to enter the room pulled the curtains aside, and Claire was able to see her sister and her lover.  They looked amazing with their new D-cup breasts, much more like the whores that Claire knew they were.  Claire wanted to kiss them and lick their boobs but she was strapped into her bed.

The room was a private room, arranged by Titcage, and Titcage had told the hospital staff the three girls were available for their use.  Doctors and nurses both would come into the room and fuck the girls as they laid in their beds, being careful to be tender with their new augmented tits.  The lead surgeon explained some of what had been done to Claire as he tilted Claire’s bed into a nearly-upright position and then stuck his cock into Claire’s pussy while standing up.

‘Obviously you have these new, improved breast sizes.  But we’ve made a few other changes too.  Most women who get breast implants find that it decreases the sensitivity in their breasts, but your employer authorised us to try a new procedure on you.  You’ll find that your breasts are even MORE sensitive than before.  In fact, you should find that even relatively mild bumps to your breasts are quite painful, and something as light as the rubbing of fabric across your nipples may be so distracting you can’t concentrate on anything else.’

He pinched Claire’s nipple to demonstrate, and Claire shrieked in agony. 

‘We’ve also put an implant in there which will release a small amount of aphrodisiac into your system constantly.  You’ll find you’re generally hornier now, like a slut should be.  One of the side effects of it is that it cancels out most modern contraceptive pills.  While you have the implant, you won’t be able to control your reproductive cycle at all.  Any sperm in your pussy could make you pregnant at any time.’

And again, to prove his point, he ejaculated into Claire’s cunt.

They kept the girls there for four days, occasionally moving them for exercise but mostly keeping them strapped in place for easy fucking.  A nurse would come by several times a day and gently massage the girls’ new tits.  The feeling of having her breasts squeezed was both extremely painful and extremely pleasurable for Claire.  With the treatment her breasts had been given to increase sensitivity, Claire found it hard to separate out pain and pleasure in her boobs, and soon stopped trying to.  She quickly built up some resistance to the new sensory overload but only some, and she now found any stimulation of her fuckbags at all made her cunt wet and left her unable to concentrate.

Naturally, they were given their earbuds to wear the whole time, their own voices telling them how much they liked being raped and how they only existed to be fucked.  Steph still cried every time a man fucked her, and Claire could hear her sister’s tears even over the voice from the earbuds.  Disturbingly, Claire found that the sound of a girl crying made her wet now.  She knew she should be horrified by that but it was hard to concentrate on why.  Or maybe she could concentrate on it, but chose not to.  It was much easier to think about how nice it felt to have the doctor’s dick in her cunt.

When the girls got home, they found that none of their tops or bras fit them anymore.  Claire and Steph’s father refused to buy them any new ones, though.  He liked the look of their new giant fuckbags bulging obscenely against the too-small clothes.  Trying to pack their new larger tits into bra cups that were too small was embarrassing, and, given their new sensitivity, it hurt.  Luckily they didn’t have to wear clothes around the house.

Claire’s father was obsessed with the girls’ new boobs.  He flagged early that he wanted to start spanking their melons now as well as their cunts, and Claire had to tell him that it wasn’t safe to do that for a few weeks yet.  She got an extra ten swats on her twat for daring to say it, but he did leave their breasts unbruised until there was no danger of damaging the implants.

He didn’t leave their breasts alone entirely though.  He didn’t seem to be able to help staring at his daughters’ new, enlarged melons.  On their third night back from hospital he called them into the lounge, and explained to them that their new breasts had taken their cockteasing to a new level.  ‘You are obviously trying to get your father’s dick hard, like the little sluts you are,’ he said, staring at their boobs.  ‘If you’re going to go to such lengths to get me hard, you should be part of the solution too.’

He made the girls kneel in front of him, nude, as they normally were around the house.  He then extracted his cock from his pants and began to masturbate, his eyes fixed on Claire and Steph’s newly embiggened fuckbags.  Claire felt something unpleasant churn in her stomach as she looked at her father pumping his cock right in front of her, at eye level.  Several conflicting impulses in her mind were calling on her at the same time.  The part that was still Claire the schoolgirl wanted to shriek, and cover herself, and be disgusted at the thought of her father’s cock.  A more intelligent part of her knew that the reason she wasn’t covering herself and running was because she had become indoctrinated by Titcage, and that part of her was horrified and scared.  But the dominant part of Claire was the part that spoke to her on her Titcage training tapes.  It told her that she was indeed a cockteasing slut who should use her body to please men.  It told her that it was right for her father to react sexually to her body.  It made her want to lean forward and take her father’s cock in her mouth and suck on it until it came.

The girls knelt and waited and watched their father’s cock until finally, moaning, he came, ejaculating sperm all over the girls’ breasts.  Steph made a little despairing noise as the white, sticky semen spattered on her tits, but she didn’t move away. 

Their father looked at them in satisfaction when he was done.  ‘Good sluts,’ he said.  ‘Now, you know what to do.  Lick each other clean.’

Hesitantly, the girls moved towards each other.  Steph’s face leant down, and Claire felt her sister begin to lick her father’s cum from her breasts.  Steph’s tongue caressed Claire’s nipples, and the newly sensitive skin of her fuckbags, and when Steph was done Claire returned the favour, savouring the taste of her father’s salty semen.

Afterwards, both of the girls were so horny, they had to 69, licking each other’s cunts feverishly as their father watched.

Over the next week, Titcage sent Sluthole around during their recovery time, to take new photos of their improved tits for their Titcage IDs.  Naturally Sluthole tortured both girls in the process, squeezing their over-sensitive boobs, pinching their clits, and pissing in their mouths.  Claire found she didn’t even really mind this treatment anymore.  It was what she deserved, after all.  Maybe the old Claire hadn’t deserved it, but the new Claire – the Claire with fake tits, the Claire who called herself Fucktwat – was clearly good for nothing except fucking and abuse.

===

You can buy the complete novel of Titcage – all 42 chapters plus bonus content! – for only $9.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store.  And even better, you’ll be supporting me to keep the lights on and keep creating new erotic content! (Click here to view in store.)

==

Claire gets her tits upgraded.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Pool Table Rules

The bar always had women turning up who thought they were good at pool, so the rules of the bar’s pool table were simple – if a woman won a match against the local pool champ, the bar would pay out prize money, and she’d walk away with a cool $20,000. 

The catch was that women had to play in their “natural state”.  They had to expose their tits.  They had to take a drink after every shot.  And they had to fuck their pussy with the pool cue between shots. 

And if they lost, of course, they played whore to the entire bar after the match, fucking anyone who wanted to use them, while the bartender uploaded video of the whole performance to the internet.

There was always some woman who thought she was good enough.  There was always some woman who thought that the prize money and the satisfaction of winning would justify the embarrassment of playing in the nude.

But they always, always lost.  Because the pool champ was very, very good.  And that meant there was always some stupid bitch available for the regular patrons to fuck. 

It worked out for everyone, really.

===

Get four full-length premium novellas at the lowest possible price by buying the Premium Bundle #1 in the ATR store! Your purchase shows your support – and helps me to keep writing! (Click here to view in store.)

===

Silly girls keep trying to beat the local champ at pool - and losing costs them everything.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Etrebor Assignment, Part 3

Previous chapters:
One | Two

===

The girls didn’t like that they were selling the house.  But it simply didn’t make sense to pay the mortgage on an empty house for six months, and the market was good right now, and with the sale proceeds plus the money Charlotte would make from this Etrebor trip, they would be able to afford to buy a significantly bigger property when they returned.

Packing was a source of friction, too.  KC eagerly informed the family that there were a number of things that girls weren’t allowed to own in Etrebor, and just in case Charlotte had been inclined to disbelieve her prodigious daughter, Zach emailed her a list of the prohibited items with a warning to be careful that there were none in her suitcases, or else she would face arrest on her arrival in Etrebor.

The list of forbidden items made Charlotte twist her face in disgust.

  • Vehicles, or keys to operate them;
  • Men’s clothes, or clothes that do not emphasise femininity, including:
    • Pants;
    • Skirts or dresses with hemlines lower than halfway down the upper thigh;
    • Underwear that is not designed for sexual appeal;
    • Any garment that disguises or minimises the shape or size of the breasts;
    • Shoes without raised heels of at least three inches;
  • Birth control of any sort;
  • Any book or periodical not explicitly approved by the Etreborian Bureau of Women for female consumption;
  • Weapons or self-defence equipment;
  • Devices capable of internet access.

This last one was too much for even KC.

“You mean I can’t take my *phone*?” she squealed.  “How will I stay in touch with my friends?”

“You’re not forbidden from using the internet, just owning a device,” said Charlotte.  “We’ll have computers where we’re staying, and you can use them.  They’ll just be technically owned by Zach.  And Etrebor has special phones for women – you’ll be able to make calls and send texts.  And they access something called the BitchWeb – it’s a kind of curated internet run by the Etreborian government, designed for women.  I understand it has apps a lot like the ones you’re used to.  You’ll be fine.”

The girls also complained they didn’t have enough Etrebor-suitable clothes.  Charlotte didn’t really believe that was likely for either of the fashion-conscious teens, but she knew that Sam’s rebellious wardrobe leaned heavily on pants and flat shoes – which she had already had two tantrums about leaving behind – and Charlotte had to confess that she was a little low on short skirts and sexy lingerie herself.  

So they all went shopping together.  Charlotte felt a little uncomfortable picking out attractive clothes because she was being *forced* to, but there was little she could do about it.  She also felt uncomfortable urging her daughters to buy sexier underwear.  She didn’t know what the line was in terms of “not designed for sexual appeal”, so she made sure that the girls bought exclusively from a dedicated lingerie boutique.  KC was easy enough to manage – Charlotte had to explicitly say no to her when she suggested crotchless underwear and a peekaboo bra – but Sam was visibly humiliated by having to select two sets of fuck-me lingerie in the company of her mother.

Charlotte forced her girls to let her see them wearing the lingerie in the changerooms to be sure it fit.  She was a little worried that Sam would just agree to anything, even if it wasn’t suitable, to make the experience end sooner.  What she learned, though, was that both of her daughters were extremely attractive when they were wearing nothing but designer lingerie.  She specifically hadn’t quite realised how big the tits of both girls had grown- little KC was an E-cup, and poor Sam had to blushingly ask whether the store had anything in an F.  Seeing her daughters like this made Charlotte blush a little – but she was confident that the underwear would certainly be acceptable to Etrebor.

The most embarrassing part of going shopping, though, was introducing her daughters to the shop clerk.  Brian had made her agree to introduce the girls by either their birth names, or their Etreborian names.  She certainly wasn’t going to call them “Fuckbags” and “Browneye” in public, so she had to blushingly tell the clerk that their names were Samantha Sweetie and Kitty Cuddles.

KC was delighted to get to use her birth name.  Samantha nearly exploded.

“What the fuck, mom?” she squealed.  “My name is Sam.  I thought you hated that other name.”

Charlotte pulled her close, and hissed, “Your name is the Rapeable Fuckbags zol Zach.  Do you want me to call you that?”

Sam’s eyes went wide.

“Then be a good girl and play along,” said Charlotte.  “I had to promise to use this name for a while in order to get your father’s approval to change it.  Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

And so Samantha gritted her teeth and allowed the clerk to call her “Samantha Sweetie”.

Charlotte had naively thought that the wardrobe changes might be the final humiliation prior to leaving the country, but she was very mistaken, and she discovered this when a document arrived at her house in an envelope with Zach’s name as the return address.

The document read:

DOCUMENTATION OF SEXUAL HISTORY

Applicant: Rp. Babyhole zol Zach
Client: Zachary Bates [Owner]

Description of applicant: Buxom bitchy blonde, age 38, limited intellectual capacity. Udders are very large.  Cunt is relatively tight for age, given she has given birth twice.  

Experience with applicant: Have raped Babyhole on one occasion.  Bitch was wet and clearly had sexual fetish for non-consensual sex.  Experience was enjoyable.

Notes: Bitch has had one previous owner, who should be contacted for more extensive report.

Rate attributes on five point scale – “Unacceptable”, “Needs Improvement”, “Adequate”, “Very Good”, “Exceptional”, or otherwise “Not Evaluated”.

Tits: Exceptional.
Cunt: Very Good.
Anus: Not Evaluated.
Mouth: Not Evaluated.
Decorative Value: Adequate.
Sexual Appetite: Adequate.
Sexual Responsiveness to Pain: Not Evaluated.
Attitude: Needs Improvement.
Overall Level of Satisfaction: Adequate

She rang Zach.

“What is this?” she demanded.

She didn’t need to explain what she was talking about.  He could guess easily enough.

“It’s for your passport,” said Zach.  “They need a documentation of your sexual history, signed off by your sexual partners.  For your girls, too, unless they’re virgins.”

“Of course they’re virgins,” snapped Charlotte, although she honestly wasn’t sure about Sam.  “What’s this degrading rubbish?  Why couldn’t you fill it out properly?”

“That’s exactly the language that Etrebor is expecting,” said Zach.  “It’s very normal.  And you’re welcome, by the way.  I think calling your cunt “very good” was a stretch, honestly, but if your history doesn’t indicate overall adequate performance then you’ll be automatically enrolled in further sexual education, which I understand includes a fair amount of educational rape.”

“So I just file this with my passport application?” asked Charlotte.

“Have you not looked at the passport application process yet?” sounded Zach.  “You need to get on that.  There are photos, and a verification process.  It takes time.  If you don’t start soon you won’t have it done in time.”

He paused and then added, “And yes, you file my document with your application, but no, that won’t be enough.  I’ve only fucked you once, and I couldn’t assess some of your qualities.  You don’t need one from *every* man you’ve fucked…”

How many men did Zach think she’d had sex with, exactly?  Charlotte fumed with anger as she listened.

“… but you will need one from your ex-husband, as your previous owner,” Zach concluded.  “His should be enough to cover you.”

“I’m not asking Brian to… to rate my groin!” Charlotte objected.

“Babyhole, if you don’t, you can’t go to Etrebor,” said Zach.  “It’s as simple as that.  Honestly, I don’t mind if you don’t.  You’re a liability to me.  But you *are* my wife now, and it’ll look bad if you’re not at my side.  Just ring him up and get him to do it.  It’s only one page.”

In the end, Charlotte did *not* ring her ex-husband.  She just emailed him the form with a message saying, “Please complete this ASAP.”

The form came back only hours later – but Charlotte didn’t like Brian’s responses.

She tried to call him, but he didn’t answer his phone.  After dialling again and again, with no response, she drove to his house that evening, and thumped on the door.

“Brian, you piece of shit,” she yelled.  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

After a long wait, her ex-husband opened the door.  Brian was a foot taller than Charlotte, and broad shouldered and hairy, with a full beard.

“Ah, it’s you,” he said.  “You know, we’re divorced, pet.  I don’t have to take your calls anymore.”

“Like hell you don’t,” said Charlotte.  She waved the printout of his form in his face.  “What the hell is this?  Why can’t you just be normal?”

“How about you come in?” asked Brian.  He waved his hand towards the inside of his house.

Charlotte did not want to go into his house.

“Or do you really want to talk about how satisfactory your cunt is out here where the neighbours can hear?” continued Brian.

He had a point.  Charlotte reluctantly went inside.  

The house was dimly lit, and untidy, although not unclean.  He went into the lounge, where he took a seat in a leather armchair.

“Now, what seems to be the problem, pet?” he asked.

Charlotte looked around for somewhere to sit, but the only other chairs were heaped with boxes and other items.  She was forced to stand, awkwardly.

“You’re the problem, Brian,” she said.  “I just need you to sign off this form so I can go to Etrebor but you’ve been a complete asshole.  My tits are unacceptable?  Really?  You always said they were my best feature.  And you know my oral skills are… well, they deserve better than ‘needs improvement’.”

“You look awkward, pet,” said Brian.  “Why don’t you kneel?”  He pointed at the space in front of the chair, between his legs.

“Fuck off,” said Charlotte.

Brian shrugged.  “No, I think you can fuck off,” he said.  “This is my house, and you’re asking me to lie on an official form, and I don’t think I owe you anything that wasn’t specified in the divorce papers.”  He looked at her.  “I’m serious,” he continued.  “Get out of my house.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to yell at him – then closed it.  He was right.  She had absolutely no leverage over him.

She got down on her knees.

“Closer, pet,” said Brian, pointing again at the space between his legs.

Awkwardly, Charlotte shuffled forwards until she was kneeling directly in front of him, her head close to his groin, looking up at his face from below.

“Good pet,” said Brian.  He reached out to pat her hair, and Charlotte jerked away instinctively.  Brian shrugged, and withdrew his hand.

“Now,” he said, “what’s the problem with my answers on that form?”

“You need to say that I’m overall acceptable,” said Charlotte, “or else I can’t go to Etrebor without having them re-educate me.”

Brian laughed.  “You could use some re-education, pet.  Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Please, Brian,” begged Charlotte.

“Is Brian my name?” asked her ex-husband.  “I think the first step is to get that right.  And maybe apologise for being a bitch so far.”

Charlotte took a deep breath.

“Please, Master,” she mumbled.  “And I’m sorry I was… a stupid bitch, and I said bitchy things, like… like a dumb cunt.  I’m very stupid, because I’m a woman, and I can’t think straight because of my cunt, and I do stupid bitch things…”

“That’s enough,” said Brian.  “You’re forgiven.  So what do you want me to say on the form?”

“Your overall satisfaction with me needs to be at least adequate, Master” she said.  “And you need to rate me highly in at least a couple of aspects to justify that.”

“Well, my memory of you is that every part of you was disgusting,” said Brian. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes, Master,” she said.  “For example, my breasts always pleased you a lot.”

“They’re not pleasing me now,” said Brian.  “You’re wearing a blouse.”

Charlotte bit her tongue to avoid saying something regrettable.  Part of her had known it would come to this.

“What do you want, Master?” she said.  “What do you need in order to complete the form?”

“Refresh my memory on what your body looks like,” said Brian.  “Take off those clothes and let me see.”

“And then you’ll complete the form?” asked Charlotte.

“Well, I’m supposed to evaluate how *pleasurable* your holes are,” said Brian.  “So I think I need to test at least one of them, don’t you think?  Your choice, pet.”

And as he spoke he unzipped his pants and took out his cock.

Charlotte’s eyes fixed on it.  Brian had many failings, but his cock was not one of them.  She remembered how much his huge dick had hurt, stretching her virginal pussy on their marriage night – but also how hard she had cum from the pain.  Its length and girth hypnotised her as it popped into view, fully erect.

“I hate you,” she muttered.

“What was that, pet?” asked Brian.  He wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped it a couple of times, aiming it at her face.  Charlotte flinched as a drop of pre-cum was flicked loose and landed on her nose.

“I said, very well, Master,” said Charlotte.  “We have a deal.”

“Good pet,” said Brian.

Charlotte stood and began to undress.  She tried to pretend that her ex wasn’t in the room, stroking his cock as he leered at her.  She felt completely humiliated, undressing in front of this man she hated, back under his power after all these years.  

Her blouse and bra came off, and she had to fight the urge to cover her large tits with her hands.  The point was for Brian to see them, after all.

Then she removed her skirt, and worked her panties down her legs, until she was nude before Brian’s gaze.

“Nice,” said Brian.  “Better than I remembered, I suppose.  Make your tits bounce for me a little, pet.”

Charlotte bounced on her heels.

“More,” said Brian.

Charlotte knew what she wanted.  Brian loved making her do this.  Exercise with her breasts unsupported *hurt*  – they were very large and heavy.  And he loved that it hurt her, and he loved that she knew that she was experiencing the pain because of how large her udders were.  A more petite girl wouldn’t have the trouble.

She began to jump into the air, up and down.  As she descended, her tits would fly up and hit her face, and then as she hit the ground, they would slap down hard against her chest.  She felt her eyes begin to water.

“Good pet,” said Brian.  “That’s enough.  Now show me your cunt.”

She walked towards him, spread her legs apart, and then used her fingers to spread her cunt lips, exposing her clit and fuckhole to his gaze.

“It’s wet,” said Brian.  “Why is it wet, pet?”

She knew he would not accept any answer that didn’t humiliate her – and which didn’t have the ring of truth.

“Because… because I like exposing myself to men,” said Charlotte, in a small voice.  She didn’t.  But she honestly didn’t know why her cunt was betraying her like this, juicing up from such a degrading situation.

“Now show me your ass,” said Brian.

This was most humiliating of all.  She turned around, and bent at the waist, and spread her ass cheeks with her hands.

“All right,” said Brian.  “Your tits are exceptional, your cunt is very good, and your ass is adequate.  Which hole am I testing?”

She had intended to say her mouth.  A blowjob was the least humiliation option on the table.  But her cunt was surprisingly wet, and something about being naked and powerless in front of the ex-husband who had so consistently demeaned and abused her was doing something funny to her head.

“My ass,” she heard herself say.  “There’s a space for my responsiveness to pain – and you know anal always hurts – so maybe we can do both together.  Just… please, use lube…”

She remained standing bent over, her ass pointed at her ex.

Brian laughed.  He stood, and walked away from her, and came back, and a moment later she felt the cold slimy sensation of lubricant being dripped into her ass crack.  Brian used one finger to rub it along her butt cleft, and then push it against her anal sphincter, and inside her ass.  Charlotte gasped.

And then there was something pressing at her anus – for the first time since her divorce.  She winced, and heard herself whimper, and then her ex-husband’s cock was pushing into her asshole, advancing into her rectum, and it *hurt*, but it was so *good*.

“Apologise for yourself until I cum,” ordered Brian.

“I’m sorry, Master,” she heard herself whisper.  “I’m sorry my ass is only adequate.  I’m sorry for the stupidity of my gender.  I’m sorry I’m not a better cum-receptacle for your cock.  I’m sorry I’m too stupid to make you cum faster.  I’m sorry… I’m sorry…  I’m sorry…”

In the end, Charlotte orgasmed before Brian did – a humiliating orgasm, completely free of genital stimulation, born of the pain and pleasure in her anus and the confusing effect of her humiliation and degradation.  A little after that, Brian came too, ejaculating into her ass.

He found her one of the old butt plugs he had made her wear when they were married, so she could keep his cum in her ass without having it drip out until she could get home and clean herself.  She was surprised by how easily it still fit her, and how comforting it felt lodged in her anal sphincter.

And then Brian filled out a new copy of the form for her.

DOCUMENTATION OF SEXUAL HISTORY

Applicant: Rp. Babyhole zol Zach
Client: Brian Hettinger [Previous owner]

Description of applicant: Cunty blonde MILF with huge tits, age 38, bitchy attitude.  A little overweight, cunt often wet.

Experience with applicant: Owned Babyhole for six years as husband.  Fucked her multiple times per week.  Engaged in some training, attitude correction and domestication.  Impregnated her twice.  

Rate attributes on five point scale – “Unacceptable”, “Needs Improvement”, “Adequate”, “Very Good”, “Exceptional”, or otherwise “Not Evaluated”.
Tits: Exceptional.
Cunt: Very Good.
Anus: Adequate
Mouth: Very Good.
Decorative Value: Adequate.
Sexual Appetite: Adequate.
Sexual Responsiveness to Pain: Adequate
Attitude: Needs Improvement.
Overall Level of Satisfaction: Adequate

It didn’t exactly make Charlotte happy – how dare he call her overweight? – but it was enough.

“Thank you, Master,” she said, and waited for his permission to dress.

And she hoped, desperately, that this would be the last favour she ever needed to ask her ex-husband for.

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You can get the original novel The Etrebor Exchange for only $7.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store right now!  Don’t miss out!  (Click here to view.)

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Charlotte discovers she needs a sexual assessment from her husband and ex-husband to enter Etrebor.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Breaking Jenny’s Promise

Jenny was bisexual, but she’d lied to her last girlfriend, a gold-standard lesbian, that she’d never date a man.  Her girlfriend, sceptical, and also a psych major, had done a little playing with Jenny’s head when she wasn’t looking, playing subliminals to her while she slept over many months until Jenny had a set of unbreakable triggers in her head, a time bomb for if she ever proved untrue.

They eventually broke up, and Jenny almost immediately found herself flirting with a cute guy.  She arranged a date – and that was when her ex-girlfriend’s triggers took over.

“On your first date with any man, you will meet him with your cunt and tits exposed, and spread your pussy for him, all without realising you’re doing it.  You will encourage him to photograph you in this state and keep the photos.”

“On your date you will tell him all your most embarrassing and humiliating sexual fantasies.  You will also tell him you fantasise about three things that in reality disgust or scare you, and maintain that these turn you on for the duration of your relationship with him.  You will get wet and orgasm if these are done to you, but you will not be any less disgusted or scared by them.”

“You will do everything in your power to get him to fuck you, unprotected, whether you want to be fucked or not.  You will encourage him to call you ‘bitch’ or ‘slut’ instead of your name, and you will teach him to slap you across the face whenever he is displeased with you.  You will give him a key to your house.”

Her ex-girlfriend had expected that these humiliating instructions would have Jenny back at her door, begging to have her mind fixed, within days of meeting a man. That never happened, though, for as much as her uncontrollable new behaviour with men scared and humiliated Jenny, the orgasms she had from teaching men to treat her like a whore were more powerful than anything she’d ever had with a girl…

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You can find more stories of lesbian cruelty in my e-book Girl on Girl, available for only $4.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store! Your purchase shows your appreciation and supports the creation of new content! (Click here to view.)

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When Jenny lies to her girlfriend about a rendezvous with a man, her girlfriend takes hypnotic revenge.