The Breeder

by Mark Andrews

  Why did they show me and the other ‘breeding sows’? That I can’t answer unless it was because they were so proud of their genetic technology they wanted us to see it; or might it have been because they wanted to gloat some more over our distress at what they were doing to our babies? Who knows? Whatever the reason, they did take us to see them and Jenny and Alicia were in the batch that included me.

  I had still had no opportunity of speaking to either of them but we were definitely soul-mates and it is amazing how the human spirit can rise above almost any distress and somehow survive - and even communicate, even under the constraints that were applied to us.

  I am not saying we could actually ‘talk’ to one another telepathically, but it wasn’t far short. We could certainly read the other’s mind in the sense that we knew vaguely what she was thinking.

  How did I feel about my love? The man whom I had left behind in the stables? I was desolate at first. He was the first man or woman there with whom I felt that strange ability to ‘speak’ with the mind and I could always do it better with him than the others. I could actually continue to do it with him, even though he was now on the other side of the city. Not proper conversations, of course, far from it. But every now and then, I felt twinges of pleasure or pain or reassurance from him.

  What was his name? I had no idea. Not what his real name was. They called him by the Korean equivalent of Horse Cock, from which I gleaned that he must have once been rather well-endowed. I kept my ears open while in the stables, of course, and I also gathered he had come from Jamaica so we were at least both citizens of Commonwealth countries. Why that was important to me I had no idea then, but it was. As events unfold, you will come to realise it all helped.

  But to return to the factory: they took our little group on a tour of inspection and, as we moved out of the level on which we brood-sows were housed, my eyes widened in shock and horror as we watched what they did to the rapidly growing infants and then the children and on another level, the now rapidly approaching young adults of this class of fighting machines.

  The infants were fed almost constantly and their diets, it was explained to us contained special hormones and fast growth foods that rapidly turned them into boys. They were exercised hard from the very earliest stages. From the moment they learned to stand on their feet (and this was very early indeed), they were worked and given swords and then guns and like weapons to play and practise with.

  They were also taught to wrestle and box and learned such martial art skills as Kung Fu and the like. They were not taught to read or write. Indeed, they weren’t taught anything except how to fight and to obey orders.

  They were all handsome. They were also beautifully built - as might be expected given Dr Yuen’s expertise at genetic manipulation - I would certainly not call what he did engineering for that gives some semblance of approval to it. What he did to those boys was pure evil and although their final fate was terrible, I think in the overall scheme of things it was probably the correct one.

  The diet and perhaps the way the doctor manipulated their genes was such that their growth was utterly phenomenal. He hadn’t mentioned this last part to me when he had gloated over me all those months earlier but I now believe it wasn’t just the hormones that made them grow so fast. Possibly he hadn’t yet developed this aspect of his science and that might well be the case for their growth was now even faster than he had told me.

  He had (you may remember) told me that the babies could be developed into apparent aged eighteen year olds in only five years. Well his programme had only been going for a little over a year and the boys I saw in the final stages of development there were already around fifteen or sixteen in appearance.

  I was appalled. With this technology at his disposal, he would soon have a very real army of mindless automatons, all hell bent on efficiently killing the enemy, on orders from their superiors. I stress they weren’t trained to kill indiscriminately. But once ordered to do so and the target identified, that was what they would do, without even the tiniest fear for themselves or their survival - except that to survive meant they could kill again, anyway - and even more importantly, without the slightest concern for what was right or wrong in it.

  Did I look out for my own babies? Of course I did, but it was a quite hopeless task. I had not the slightest idea what they looked like and since these naked giants (for they were all big and very, very muscular) all looked very similar (yes, even when their mothers were as different as, say, Jenny and me), for their training made them all into unsmiling paragons of rigid military discipline and how on Earth could even a mother identify three babies she had seen for only a second or two and who were now of an apparent age of about ten or thereabouts. No, much as I mourned for those three boys, I knew I hadn’t a hope in Hades of marking them out from the thousands of other boys, or even the hundreds of an appropriate age.

  It was tragic and beside me, I felt both Jenny’s and Alicia’s sorrow as we were made to watch the group that would have included our boys being worked to develop their bodies into ideals of strength and fitness and then to use them to fight each other.

  But there was another aspect of them that appalled me even more. Yes, no doubt you have guessed what it was they had done to each and every one of the thousands of boys and young men in that place.

  They had indeed castrated them - surgically removed their testicles and their penises when they were still very small, just as they had to the boys in the stables, but for different reasons. Our guide told us, rather triumphantly, that they weren’t going to leave their hormonal development to nature but would feed each growing boy a mixture that was just right for him and this would help not only his physical but also his mental development. I didn’t understand it and I still don’t. Fortunately, all Dr Yuen’s records were destroyed in the event that ended the fortress (and surprisingly there were no back-ups in another place) so no-one can take up his research elsewhere - hopefully!

  I had the wit to understand though that the older boys, those that were now nearing an apparent age that they could actually go out and become an army unit in their own right, would be a formidable enemy for they were trained for one thing and one thing only - to mindlessly kill, and in doing so would be utterly fearless. I knew that somehow this whole programme had to be stopped. I had no idea how such a seemingly hopeless task was to be accomplished but I knew it had to be done.

  I left those upper sections of the fortress in despair. I had thought our ground floor breeding and training departments to be bad enough but now faced with the results of these programmes I had reason to fear for the future of the world. I resolved then and there to do everything in my power to bring it to an end, even if my own life was forfeit in the process.

  How I might even start to plan such an event I had no idea. We were so carefully guarded and controlled - remember I had still said not a single word to Jenny even, or Alicia, since being incarcerated there all those months ago and I was once more heavily pregnant, this time with four infants and was unwillingly taking part in the general’s plans for world dominion.

  I wondered often why the secret agencies in the free world hadn’t recorded our training and use as ponies - and done something about it. The truth of the matter was that they had - seen and recorded it, that is. They hadn’t done anything about it because you can’t just walk into another country, especially one as closed and as well guarded as North Korea now was, scoop up your own country’s citizens and walk out again. All diplomatic ties with other countries and even with the United Nations were closed. There was no hope of communicating with these madmen!

  I later discovered that my own government had been working frantically (well, as frantically as any British government can work) to work out what they, in company with the US and other countries, might do but so far, it was nothing.

  And so, when we returned to our level in the fortress, it was in a
bsolute despair and to the same regime as before: Fed (by the dreadful pipes down our throats), exercise, work at their horrible power generating machines, feed, sleep - over and over again, all day, every day, while the babies in our bellies developed at a great rate of knots and eventually we dropped them, right there where we were, to have them severed from us, cleaned and taken away to join all those other hundreds of infants in the nurseries above us and then develop, also at a great rate of knots, into little boys, youths and then men, all in the space of a few months and years.

  I dropped my second ‘litter’ (for I certainly didn’t consider them as proper children any more, even if I did mourn for them) and then resumed my work and then it was time to fertilise me again. Once more I was secured in the pillory while a third of the huge muscle boys was brought in to do the job.

  Oh yes, every night we were of course used, as our guards and technicians wished, raped on our wooden beds or taken up to the rooms of their seniors for the ritual spanking and then a slightly more comfortable session on their beds and those nights I wasn’t selected (which weren’t all that many I have to admit), I mourned that I was going to be unsatisfied in the constant nagging, itching lust for sex that was with us all our waking moments.

  I have said that our governments were by now aware that we sportswomen were being used as human ponies but they still had no idea of the real reason for our kidnapping. I suspect that if some agent had been able to infiltrate the fortress, observe what happened on all its various floors and then go back and report, they would have had him (or her, more likely) certified and locked away for the rest of their lives.

  The very idea of using kidnapped women to breed a new race of all-male (albeit castrated, sexless) soldiers, modify them mentally and physically to suit the purpose and then train them to the utmost to be professional killers, is just so bizarre that any sane person could be forgiven for not believing it.

  I sunk into even more despair as I reasoned this out. Even if by some miracle I could get free, travel through a distinctly hostile country to the sealed border, get over it and then home, nobody would for one minute believe me!

  What was I going to do? I had no idea. Mind you, they controlled us so totally that any chance I might have had of escaping was so remote as to be unthinkable, anyway, but the human spirit being what it is, even in the face of apparently insurmountable odds, we still try. We plan and plot and hope... Hope springs eternal? It certainly does and even in the worst days of my initial conditioning, I still clung to the hope of a rescue.

  Alas, it wasn’t forthcoming. At least not in the short term and now I faced another worry. Dr Yuen certified me pregnant again and now I worried that I would be returned to the stables.

  Being there was worse - and better - than in the fortress. At least there we were fed in a more normal way (if you can call kneeling with our hands up behind our heads and leaning forward to eat our mush off the floor, more normal) but more to the point I would be back with Horse Cock whom I had missed so much over the last three months in the fortress. On the down side, I utterly hated being used as a pony: forced to trot around the streets stark naked by the indecent and so painful method of harnessing and thereby exposed to everyone, all of which absolutely hated us.

  As it happened I was put back with Horse Cock but it wasn’t in those stables. It was in stables, though. I was to be used as a pony but not one of the President’s special pony-girls. It seemed he was fickle and while Jenny and I had been a favourite pair three months earlier, now his favours had switched to other girls.

  No, instead, he had recognised the public’s delight in his use of us as naked human ponies and had decided to use more of us in a similar manner. We were to form the beginnings of a new crew of teams to be used as public buses!

  By now, if you have believed what I have said so far, it will not be difficult to go that one step more and believe that two dozen of us could now be used in this manner. It was most horrible because we were now at the immediate disposal of the public out in the streets. Pulling the President around, it had been on cleared streets; with his ministers, it hadn’t been quite as good but now we would be right with the public we would be carrying.

  There were two differences that were very welcome. First and foremost we were no longer harnessed by the dildos in our two nether orifices but by a collar around our necks. I will explain this in detail in a moment. The other one was that we had some of the castrated males with us as part of our team and I was overjoyed to find Horse Cock was among them.

  Obviously our captors had not picked up that we loved each other or they certainly wouldn’t have let us be together. But I had better explain how the buses were set up.

  They weren’t buses as in our conception of them. They were more a flat top trailer with rows of plastic seats bolted to the tray. The back wheels were fixed but the front ones were on a bogie that could swivel. A long shaft of aluminium alloy came out from under this and it had six crosspieces bolted to it. The main shaft was shaped in such a way (with a braced upright) that raised it to our neck levels before coming forward again, so that we could easily be collared to the crosspieces. Once all the collars were done up, we were ordered to raise our hands up and grasp the crosspiece behind our necks, which of course showed off our upper bodies and our well developed biceps and shoulder muscles perfectly.

  I was lucky enough to have Horse Cock locked to the crosspiece directly in front of me and on the inside - we girls were on the outsides of each crosspiece (so that we were more exposed to the view of the people?) while the castrated males were inboard - and so I had a perfect view of his fabulous body as we trotted along.

  And so now, all day, every day, we were roused well before dawn, fed, cleaned, harnessed to our ‘bus’ and then trotted out to begin our scheduled run. There were four buses to begin with but as the General realised how popular a move this was, he had more and more of us females seconded to the bus depot. He ran out of foreign males, of course, and then resorted to using more of us females, now three per crossbar to make up the difference. Fortunately, though, Horse Cock and I stayed in the same team and I got to look at him all day as we trotted our passengers around the city.

  In time, our telepathic ability grew stronger. I wondered if it was because I was denied voice communication with my companions in misery and even that with our guards and trainers and the technicians in the factory had been limited to staccato commands and responses. Whatever the reason, it certainly did grow and eventually, I could almost say I could have a conversation with him, almost, but not quite. It was still more vague thoughts and emotions but I learned to use them to decipher what he was trying to tell me.

  And it was the same with Jenny and Alicia. Those two girls were still my only real friends in the country and, although my telepathic ability with them was not as strong as with Horse Cock, I could very definitely feel their presence and their emotions.

  Accordingly, as we trotted along, still stark naked of course and still with the same difficult but so impressive-looking gait, I found myself thinking to Horse Cock about escaping. He was not all that hopeful and neither was Jenny but as my despair at what the General was contemplating for his country and the world became more and more profound, they began to move along with me and now all three of us actively looked for ways out.

  We thought that these sojourns out with the bus would probably be our best bet but although we were out on the town as it were and with only the small boy as our driver, the bits in our mouths made real conversation impossible and in any case, conditioned as they were, the other human ponies would in all likelihood be far too frightened to go along with us. No, more and more it seemed utterly hopeless but I couldn’t give up.

  I consoled myself with looking at Horse Cock’s body as we trotted along, admiring his chocolate-brown skin and the beautiful muscles that rippled just under its surface. I particularly admired the way his
powerful thigh muscles threw out to the side as his foot came down on that side, and then hardened into long strands before relaxing as his body passed over that hip. I also delighted in the way his buttocks (on him narrow and high, reaching right up into the small of his back and with a deep cleft on the outside of each one) flexed and tightened with each step. But his back and shoulders were also wonderful, the pattern of muscles ever changing as he strained to keep the bus moving forward at the same regular rate and to keep his pace in time with the rest of us.

  This was actually our biggest challenge. Remember, we had to look (or appear to be looking) directly ahead of us and yet if our steps got out of kilter with those of our companions, we were in for real punishment when we got back to the depot. The strain of pulling the bus was hard and we really had to work at it, but doing so with that dreadfully difficult gait, raising our knees up high with each and every step made it much harder again.

  We had to do it, though. Failure, even in a small way, earned instant retribution. Being suspended upside down with your legs pulled painfully wide open and then have to face the whip between them to your crotch, is not the nicest of punishments.

  What about our babies, you ask? What about them? They had determined our hardiness, our incredible strength and fitness would protect those tiny things in our bellies and they must have been right for I didn’t hear of any one of us miscarrying during my time there. No, they were quite able to - and did punish us ruthlessly every time they thought we weren’t putting our very best effort into the tasks set us.

  Day after day, week after week, month after month, I toiled at that awful labour. The labour wasn’t the worst of it, as I’ve said before. Being paraded stark naked with our sex and our breasts so obscenely exposed to the lecherous grins and stares of the two million plus people of the city was far worse than the effort required, bad and all as that was.

  As bus ponies, we had to stop and start all the time at the various bus stops and when we did, the people, including their children crowded in on us, the men grasping at our breasts and our sexual organs, the women spanking our buttocks and the children crawling in between our legs, also reaching up to play with our sex.