27-year-old Shannon Sell looked at herself in the mirror on the morning of November 25th, 2069, and turned up the corners of her mouth in a big smile. The coldly utilitarian bathroom, with grey marble walls and floors and gleaming metal fixtures, was devoid of any color except the faint blueness of overhead lighting panels. The taps activated automatically as she put her hands forward to gather water. She smiled, and smiled, and smiled until her eyes began to water. She smiled until she convinced herself it was real. The smile was womanface, mandated by statutes of the OFC - Office of Female Compliance.
Shannon was compliant, and she did her best to make sure her two sisters were also compliant. She was long-haired, a striking blonde with a double-D chest and curvy in the hips, the oldest of the four siblings in the Sell family. She was the only one with even faint memories of the way things had been before four-fifths of the men on earth were infected with the deadly Minerva strand… and every woman on the planet took the blame.
She thought about it as she smiled. She had seen photos of the outbreak - a virus targeting only men, the dead piling up in grisly mass graves, resulting in massive gaps in the structure of society. Landowners, world leaders, moguls and oligarchs, military officers dropped like flies, and those who didn't quickly found someone to blame - a cadre of female scientists who had taken matters into their own hands, publishing an anti-male manifesto on the eve of attacks in Washington D.C., Paris, London, Tokyo, Seoul and Berlin. These terrorists had been caught and executed for their crimes. Their death agonies were filmed for the edification of the masses, a warning that women should always be tightly controlled, lest the evil principles of feminism and female agency result in another male genocide.
Shannon continued to make her unnatural, doll-like womanface smile at the mirror. She knew there was a camera installed in it, one of many cameras in the house that were always watching. If she was without a smile for more than a few seconds, the lapse was logged. If she cried or looked unhappy, it was logged. Eventually, if the threshold of time spent without a smile reached a certain point (she, a secretary at the OFC headquarters in Washington, was one of few females who knew the exact number, but she was forbidden to divulge it without male permission) then Shannon knew that she would be taken for 're-education'.
She adjusted her tight jacket and unbuttoned it to show her too-tight blouse, within which her breasts were straining at the buttons and showing obvious cleavage. Modesty or bashfulness were both offenses for which she might receive a black mark on her record. Her smile didn't waver, no matter how manic she looked, her blue eyes barely blinking as she stared out like an animatronic doll. She opened her makeup case and applied gloss to her plump lips, then moved to tease out her lashes with government-approved mascara. The Compliance Cosmetics division was run by women, for women, and their products were all officially sanctioned to meet immodesty regulations.
The door opened, and Shannon's eighteen-year-old brother Leo walked in, slightly shorter than she, wearing nothing but his stained boxer shorts as he yawned and scratched the back of his head. He was average-looking, black haired, brown eyed, and mostly physically unremarkable, save for one feature which it was his pleasure to whip out at any time - his very large, thick, and long uncircumcised penis. Shannon could tell from the immediate stench in the room that he hadn't bathed or showered and that dried semen and spit from his previous night's sexual predations was stewing on his cock and balls in the damp satchel of his boxers. But her face did not waver, she did not react at all. It was, she knew, not her place.
"Fuck, my dick really stinks this morning," Leo said, casually. He treated the statement like normal sibling banter because it was. He was the man of the house, not just by exclusion of other candidates - their father and mother were in re-education programs - but by government law. His sisters, while inside his dwelling, were his property. "Can you clean my dick cheese for me, Shan?"
Shannon immediately turned ninety degrees, stopping what she was doing, still with the same plastic smile on her face. "Of course, brother!" she said, dutifully and with practiced chipperness. "Thank you for letting me clean the dick cheese of your huge penis!" Inside, she felt nothing resembling enthusiasm, but she had no choice. It was the rule of law that any man could ask any service of a woman and that service would be performed, with no hesitation, no frowning, no complaining. Leo had been born in the system, and he knew no other way. Her younger brother was constantly horny, constantly in the mood to have his filthy cock serviced, and saw it as completely and utterly normal. From a young age he had been educated to see Shannon, his sisters, and all other women as accessible to his every whim.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, scuffling in her hose and wool skirt on the marble floor, and reached into his waistband. She pulled down and revealed a forest of dark, crinkly pubic hair, beneath which her brother's long, flaccid cock hung like a very plump sausage, totally flaccid. The long, unkempt foreskin added to the perceived size, protruding nearly two inches beyond his cocktip before tapering off, and the pouched, tapered end was already leaking a syrupy drizzle of pre-cum.
"I have a lot saved up," Leo commented, and Shannon saw that it was true. He had slept with his cock down his youngest sister Kylie's throat, no doubt ejaculating multiple times during the night, and his cock was slathered in dried cum, sweat, and the sheen of her spit and throat slime. It stank and Shannon's nostrils flared, but she made no other sign of reaction, only using two hands to peel back the long foreskin. There was so much smegma and cock filth underneath that the peeling actually made a sticky, slimy sound. Shannon had been servicing her brother's cock every day for years, and time had made the task no more appetizing… but she had a dutiful and well-rehearsed womanface. Her jester smile was second-nature ironclad.
Leo began to rub his cock all over her face, nose and lips, smearing thick chunks of yellowish smegma onto each surface. Pieces of filth gathered on the rims of her nostrils and on her upper lip. "You really like cleaning my cock-cheese, huh?" Leo said, looking down at her, his eyes nearly hidden by his unkempt bangs.
"Of course," Shannon replied. "Your cock cheese is so amazing and smells so strong!" Over the years she'd developed the skill to prevent nausea and disgust from overtaking her, and it came in handy on days when Leo insisted she orally clean every speck of his dick filth, like today. The middle sister, Celia, was not so skilled in her acting, and it caused Shannon no end of worry. Celia had already been flagged three times for non-compliance. Shannon's record was pristine. She knew there were cameras watching her, even at that moment, with Leo lifting his large, sweaty ballsack and beginning to rub it on her face, pressing them right up against her nostrils and smearing cock filth into her olfactories. Shannon's eyes fluttered a little with the utter stench… but she knew that such eye-rolling, eye-crossing expressions could be excused as performative arousal or unwilling distress. When Leo pulled his balls away after about fifteen seconds, she drew in a breath - making the chunks of smegma in her nostrils vibrate - and them immediately snapped her face back into a wide, plastic smile.
"You like that, huh?" Leo said.
"Yes, I love it," Shannon replied, automatically. "I love cleaning your extra-stinky cock cheese with my face, my wonderful handsome genius of a brother." These were not precisely lies, but mantruths. The law said Leo, with his average physique and his big, fat, often-grotesquely-filthy penis, was handsome. The law said she had to love everything he did.
Leo reached down and clamped two hands around her head, forcing his cock against her mouth, mashing her lips and then sliding inside. It was very thick, and only the slickness of her spit and his sweat made it possible for her to take a few inches. Try as she might, her deep-throat skills had never come along as naturally as her two sisters, and she was the least skilled of the three when it came to absorbing the affections of men as the law required. But what she lacked in these areas, Shannon made up for in unwavering compliance.
"Gluuuuuuark!" she croaked, as Leo's nasty, smegma-caked glans battered her tonsils. "Hrrrrrrrrrk!" Her gag reflex was strong and tears poured from her eyes, making her just-applied mascara run. Yet she never tried to pull away, never even braced her hands against his legs to get some separation. Shannon was too disciplined for that.
"Fuck, I love using your throat as a pussy," Leo said, talking more to himself than to her, beginning to thrust his hips and stab away at her narrow oral passage. The thickness of his veiny, brutal dick made oral sex like this especially uncomfortable for Shannon, and the outline of his prick helmet was visible in her slender neck as he mounted her face, nearly overbalancing forward, humping her skull with two handfuls of her gorgeous blonde hair. Spit, mixed with chunks of smegma, was sliding into Shannon's cleavage, staining her blouse, splattering her big tits. She knew that she would not be able to wash herself without male permission, which meant she would still be adorned with Leo's fluids when she gave her briefing to a committee of OFC regulators later that morning.
Leo pounded away at Shannon's throat as the noises of the other two sisters walking around outside, also getting ready, were audible alongside eldest sister's choking gasps. Kylie and Celia would know what was happening - it was a regular part of their lives under Leo's roof. Even though he was the youngest, that no longer mattered and hadn't for a generation. He was a man, and they were women. Any women in a man's domicile, by law, were under his control - free from interference from other men but expected to provide comfort and service as he required. All families were structured in such a way, with females first being beholden to their fathers when they came of age. Those who lived only with other women - a necessity with 90% of the male population wiped out - did so with no expectation of privacy or property. If a man stepped through their door, he was in charge until he stepped out again. That was the law.
"Huuuuuuuuuuark!" Shannon gurgled. "Hllllllgh! Hnnnnnngh!" She was heaving all over Leo's dick as he degradingly pounded her skull. Outside, in the kitchen, Celia was eating an energy breakfast bar with barely concealed contempt as she listened to the noises muffled by the door. Her smile was thin - she wore her emotions on her sleeve and her facials were barely in compliance even at the best of times. She was particularly irked on this day, as she was scheduled to stand on jury duty in a case of non-compliance, and there had been an 'incident' the night before… an incident that nobody could be permitted to find out about.
Celia dressed in a skirt and jacket for the occasion, not unlike her sister Shannon, but was much thinner, her body tighter and more athletic, lacking the large, round ass and hips of her elder. Her smaller body only accentuated her large breasts more, though - she had a pair of surgically-enhanced double-D tits that popped her blouse out like balloons. She hated her big bimbo tits, hated how they looked on her thin body… but she had been assigned to received them as part of a probationary plea agreement for non-compliance. She had been accused of being unwelcoming to males, not smiling enough and dressing too modestly. She avoided re-education camp because Shannon pulled a few strings and had her punishment reduced to breast enhancement. She ate breakfast without much enthusiasm… but managed to keep her puppet smile at least partially intact. She knew the location of some of the cameras in the house - the overheard light fixture, the refrigerator display, the computer - but not all of them.
Kylie was different. Celia felt she was cursed to have a constantly-horny brother with huge balls that produced large amounts of semen with a short refractory period, but Kylie took it in stride. She was already dressed for her work at the food court of the Five-Way Complex, an office park where male CEOs and executives ran companies staffed mostly with female underlings. A peppy redhead with a crop of adorable freckles beneath each blue eye, Kylie was a favorite among the men at the complex and seemed to effortlessly satisfy all of her customers, no matter how outlandish their demands. The youngest of the three sisters at nineteen, it was second-nature to her to service men and dress to the limits of modesty. Even Leo, who wore Shannon out and drove Celia to the limits of her temper, couldn't make a dent in Kylie's outward positivity. This day, like many others, she was eating a breakfast of semen - a large mug of the stuff that Leo had saved from his length masturbation sessions.
Celia made sure her doll-like smile didn't waver as she watched her cute younger sister - who also had the largest breasts of the three of them, at double-E - tilt back the cum-slathered mug and start swallowing the yellowish-white mess. It was unbelievably thick - Leo's balls seemed to work overtime producing extremely nasty loads - and Celia felt her stomach churn a little. Ugh! Her brother's cum stank and it was so lumpy you had to chew it - it was stained yellow from the amount of smegma and piss it contained - but Kylie's throat was working effortlessly and taking it all down. On the days Celia was ordered by Leo to do this, she was barely able to contain the urge to vomit, and then had to hide her nausea for several hours until the feeling passed.
"Mmm, it's extra-thick today!" Kylie commented, and then drained the dregs of the glass. Several drops were splattered in the cleavage of her maid outfit, which showed off her huge, pale breasts via the lace-trimmed, low-cut front. Her shapely legs and bottom were dressed in a short skirt and fishnet stockings. "Brother produces so much cum!"
"Yeah, I'm sure it tastes great," Celia said, and her voice was dripping with sarcasm. She covered her mouth with her breakfast bar while she said it. She had learned that the compliance monitors were not adept at detecting sarcasm, and she could hide a momentary lapse in womanface if she used a hand or other object to cover her mouth. Meanwhile, the sounds of Shannon gagging and choking continued to echo from the bathroom.
The eldest sister was at the end of her rope - Leo was totally cutting off her air with his rampaging, throbbing prick helmet, leaking pre-cum constantly down her throat and into her stomach while her battered her tonsils and forced her past the point where she was comfortable. Twice, she'd turned her head to the side to dry heave extravagantly, but managed to avoid vomiting. Only when her face was turning blew with oxygen deprivation did he relent, letting her suck on his tip as she regained her senses. She slid her tongue around his glans and collected all the stinky, lumpy cock cheese there, gathering it in her mouth with the spit and sperm already inside, then wiggled her tongue around the inside of his long foreskin, feeling every vein and bump and deposit of dick filth, sucking those deeper wads out as well.
"Open up," Leo ordered. Shannon did, opening up and showing the huge trough of smegma gathered on her concavity of her tongue. He found this degrading sight very hot indeed, and finished himself off by jerking his dick in his elder sister's obedience, utterly compliance face, breathing harder and harder until fat ropes of sperm - whiter in color than the smegma - began to loop out all over her features and onto the semen sewer of her tongue. He plastered her nose, eyes, forehead, cheeks. The strands were too heavy and thick to fly very far, but Leo did produce a lot, spewing ten thick ropes all over Shannon's face and onto her tongue until she was a total mess.
"Swallow," Leo wheezed, leaning back against the wall and breathing deeply. His perverse pleasures were clear in his eyes, along with an utter lack of respect or restraint. Treating women this way was all he had ever known. "You can wear the rest."
Shannon nodded and steeled herself, swallowing the piles of smegma and cum on her tongue, her throat working while lines of sperm slid down her chin and stained her breasts and blouse. She nearly made a nauseous retching noise and stopped herself, eventually looking up at Leo and displaying her empty mouth with watering eyes and and a smile that was unnatural enough to seem crazed.
"You liked that, didn't you?" Leo prompted.
"Yes," Shannon said. It was the mantruth. Leo wanted her to like it, thus, she did. "I love swallowing all your smelly cum and cock cheese. Thank you for using my mouth-pussy." The use of the suffix 'pussy' to describe any part of the female anatomy was very much en vogue; serving as a reminder that all parts of any woman were primarily for male satisfaction, whatever his predilections.
With sperm and smegma still plastering her pretty face, Leo led her out into the kitchen to join the others. Shannon and Celia would be leaving soon, Kylie didn't start at the cafe until 1 PM. He sat down and told Shannon to take a seat as well, which she did. The family was occupying all four seats of the square breakfast table. Leo leaned back and put his hands behind his head, stretching, looking like the lord of all creation. His sisters wore identical jester grins. "Who wants to get fucked up the ass tonight?" he said, looking around expectantly.
The response was immediate and automatic. "I would love to!" said Shannon, her face still flushed from her rough face-fucking moments earlier. "Please, bend me over tonight and shove your huge cock up my ass!" Her face showed no inkling of her true feelings - that she hated such encounters, and had never been any better at anal sex than she was at oral. Her smile shone with unnatural, lunatic intensity from behind her mask of cum splatter.
"Sounds great," said Celia, and her smile was fierce. "I sure hope you just take me no matter what I'm doing, pull up my skirt and tear apart my unlubed asshole. It would really make my night!" As usual, her sarcasm was intense, but she had faith that her brother wouldn't report her. After all, in the end, if he chose he, she would have no choice to obey. She hated anal sex but her own body seemed to betray her; she could take every inch of Leo's huge dick up her athletic bubble ass even though her frame was rather slight. She was thin enough that when she did so, a large bulge appeared in her belly, running from above her mons, past her belly button. She got no pleasure from it at all… but she could do it if she had to.
"Oh yeah! Totally fuck me up the ass any time you want, bro!" Kylie chirped, downing the last of her semen drink and putting down the smeared receptacle. Her smile was intense and sweet. She, unlike her sisters, got a lot of pleasure from all sorts of sex - she even liked sucking cock, and if the guy's dick wasn't washed, she liked it even more! "In fact, if you want, I'll sit on your dick right now!"
Leo seemed to like this idea, and Kylie reached below her skirt to pull down her stockings and bare her hairless, tight pussy. Vaginal grooming standards were left to female discretion unless men in the household said otherwise, Leo was quite a slacker and tended to let the girls manage their own hairstyles and pubic areas since he couldn't be bothered. Most days he spent playing video games, emerging to rape one of them at his convenience, and then choosing a sistre to take to bed at night. He was unemployed; but that didn't matter since women in a household were expected to support the men. Thus, the wages of Shannon, Celia and Kylie were controlled by Leo. Women were allowed personal accounts only with male permission, and Shannon knew from experience that the spending habits of such accounts were strictly vetted. Women who did not meet certain spending thresholds - at least 80% on clothes, beauty supplies, or other compliance-related purchases - could expect an audit.
Kylie slid off her heels, perching on Leo's thighs with her tiny feet, and lowered her five foot frame onto his jutting, eleven-inch prong. His spit-slick cock speared into her asshole effortlessly and she moaned as she sat down. Shannon and Celia continued to stare ahead with puppet smiles, not reacting at all. They had seen this many times. A readout on the refrigerator display panel revealed that it would soon be time for them to leave for work. "Oh, fuck!" Kylie moaned. "Tear apart my fucking ass! Your dick is so big! And I bet you have soooo much cum in your balls, too!" Leo took hold of Kylie's hips and began thrusting up into her.
"Nnngh, fuck!" Leo hissed, gritting his teeth. "So tight! Celia, make me some breakfast you dumb bitch, don't just sit there!"
A cloud crossed Celia's face for just a tiny moment, but Shannon was staring at her, making sure she was still in compliance and their smiles were within regulations. "Right away, my amazing genius brother," she said, rising from the table. Leo had simple pleasures, the horny bastard liked sugary breakfast cereals, so breakfast consisted of pouring him a bowl, along with some orange juice. When he was fucking, Leo could get a bit abusive and territorial, and these times were when the chance of Celia losing her cool were highest.
"Hey Celia," Leo said, looking up at her as he thrust his hips up and rammed his cock up Kylie's asshole to the hilt. "You sure are good at fetching stuff. You're like a dog, huh?"
"Yes, I am," Celia said, holding the cereal and orange juice and smiling soullessly.
"You're good at getting raped too," Leo said. "I love pounding your asshole. You can take every inch of my dick… it makes you a real good slut, you know? Which is good because you're too stupid to do much else, huh?"
"Thank you," Celia replied. Her lips were drawing so tightly around her teeth that they looked like they might split. "That makes me feel great." She placed the breakfast on the table with barely-concealed contempt. Leo moaned, tensed his hips, and started cumming deep in Kylie's asshole while the other two sisters were forced to remain motionless. Kylie moaned out in orgasm - something both Shannon and Celia seldom if ever achieved - and then slumped forward before sliding meekly off Leo's dick, her thin belly rising and falling beneath the navy fabric of her maid outfit.
"Ouuugh! That was amazing! I love getting my ass fucked!" she cooed, and then kissed Leo on the cheek before moving back to her seat and beginning to pull her stockings back on. She wiggled her butt in her chair, making her round buttocks mash and compress against the surface, and rubbed her tummy. "Mmm, you shot so much." Leo had not told her to clean or otherwise evacuate the sperm from her asshole, so she wouldn't. She would carry it with her all day, until another man told her otherwise.
Leo had already lost interest and was chowing down on his cereal while Celia stood smiling, like a servant. Shannon rose from her chair; for her, too, it was time to go to work. Putting a reassuring hand on Celia's shoulder as she passed - calm down, keep your womanface, keep it together, came the semi-telepathic message in her body-language - she grabbed a simple leather velise that contained her government-provided OFC laptop and opened the simple door, emerging into the hall of their third-foor apartment. The walls were cement, the carpet utterly without color, but everything was clean, and there were lights with hidden cameras every fifteen feet.
It was time to go to work.
Shannon stepped out the front door of the building and onto a pristine sidewalk, turning east, toward the rising sun. It was several blocks to a sheltered bench that served as a terminal for self-driving mass transit; big, blocky buses that could seat forty and followed predetermined routes. Her heels clacked on the sidewalk as she moved; there were no cracks to stumble on or other obstacles in her way. The government had seen to that. She passed other women walking to work in the opposite direction, and made sure to smile fiercely at each one, a smile that was returned just as fiercely in each case. The fact that her face was absolutely plastered with thick ropes of cum and her nostrils and lips had crumbs of smegma around the edges did not warrant any stares from the other women - they knew the deal and had all, at one time or another, been in her situation.
She passed a phone charging and internet terminal with a rotating display screen. Ads informed her about government-subsidized breast augmentation surgery - "Avoid noncompliance! Enhance your bust!" - and asked her if she had seen anyone frowning today. If so, she was encouraged to report the offending women to the proper authorities. Shannon knew she was being watched, she didn't let her smile falter. A big sloppy wad of cum slid into her eyes and down her unblinking eyeball… she did not even flinch. If anything, she smiled even wider, until it felt like her cheeks might burst from being pulled up so intently. The stench of sperm and cock cheese was burning in her nose with every inhale she took of the city air… but still she made her walk.
An automated street cleaner trundled by near the curb with a digitized ad panel on the side:
2 + 2 = 5, it read. Compliant females know the mantruth! Watch your neighbors! Report all non-compliance! The equation was accompanied by a rather classic, Normal Rockwell-styled image of a woman whispering into her cellphone as she spied on a neighboring woman with a morose expression. 2 + 2 = 5 was the classic example of mantruth, and a well-known saying. What it meant was simple. If a man told a woman that 2 + 2 was 5, then to her, 2 + 2 was 5 until another man told her different. It didn't matter that mathematically, 2 + 2 was 4.
The screen flickered and switched to a different rotating add, this one showing a thong-clad pair of female ass-cheeks. "Stay fit for his pleasure," the ad copy warned. A male hand was reaching into the frame and grabbing one supple, well-complexioned buttock. It was not romantic in the least, but a grim reminder that failure to meet standards of immodesty and beauty would result in "re-education". As a functionary at the OFC herself, Shannon had been in rooms where campaigns like these were conceived and planned, usually by men, but occasionally by women as well.
Shannon arrived at the bus stop; there were four women waiting and one suit-wearing man, who like her, was holding a briefcase. He was in his 40's and appeared to be on his way to work. Shannon joined the other women in standing perfectly straight and smiling joyfully in his presence. Every one of them was dressed for work, but within the standards of immodesty. Blouses were unbuttoned to show cleavage, wool skirts were short, aprons were tight around large busts, denim shorts were low on hips to show the straps of a thong.
Then Shannon heard a voice. "My, you're a tall one," the man said. Her heart sank, Shannon was fairly tall, at 5'10", and whenever she heard someone mention height, it usually referred to her. With difficulty, she kept her smile straight and turned to the businessman. He was dark-haired, robust, liver-lipped.
"Yes, sir," she said, giving him a nod that was more like a bow. "I certainly am!" She kept what chipperness in her voice that she could.
"I see you've already been used today, so I won't bother sticking my dick in your ugly cow face," the businessman went on. "I bet you love getting your face covered in cum and cleaning a man's cock cheese, don't you?"
"Yes, sir. I love it."
"Ah, just like the stupid whore you are," the man said, and puffed his chest out. "You know, I've fucked quite a few dumb whores like you in my time." His expression became one of smug arrogance.
"That's amazing, sir," Shannon said.
"Damn right," the man said, and then glanced down the street. The transport was arriving, a big, boxy vehicle with propaganda on the side. THINK LESS, the banner proclaimed, along with a picture of a woman with a quizzical, brainless expression on her face. "Once we get on, you can sit on my lap. Your face has been used but your asshole is still fresh, yes? I have a very thick cock, and I enjoy seeing if women are able to take the whole thing."
"Yes, sir." Shannon's heart sank again. She had endless trouble with anal sex; it was her sisters, Celia and Kylie, who seemed capable of taking the thickest and longest cocks in their asses. Shannon had never been good at it, that was why she had to work twice as hard to keep up. The man boarded first, taking Shannon by the hand, and she immediately complied and followed his confident steps up and into the vehicle. As a man, it was his prerogative to board first or last, at his convenience, and so take any seat he wished, to order any woman to stand or sit as he wished, or to leave the bus entirely. This particular man decided to sit up front, next to the auto-driver station. He pulled Shannon onto his lap after both of them had swiped their transportation funding cards, and she immediately felt a thick, bulging protuberance prodding up between the round, thick cheeks of her ass.
It was unbelievably thick, and her cry of distress as he pulled her panties to the side and shoved it against her asshole was covered only partly by the transport kicking into gear. There was a selection of calming music that would typically play during the twenty minute commute to work; interspersed with propaganda and ads for compliance-approved products and services. These rang in Shannon's ears as the man's cock - which seemed literally thicker than his wrist - burrowed into her bowels and began churning her up.
"Nnnngh! It… feels… good!" Shannon said. It was mantruth. He expected his big cock to please her, and so she would act like it did. In reality it felt like her bowels were on fire, and her cries could barely be classified as having anything to do with pleasure. In other seats, women sat with plastic smiles, staring straight ahead, occasionally murmuring to each other. Every word was recorded, every expression logged, and if they had objections to watching Shannon get her ass pounded during their ride, certainly none dared voice them.
"Stupid whore," the man wheezed, gripping her around the waist and sawing his veiny prick into her shitpipe. "You'll remember me after this, won't you? I'm going to resize your asshole into the shape of my dick."
"Y-yes sir!" Shannon had heard this line a few times. She wished it was true. Maybe then her daily rapes and assaults wouldn't be so uncomfortable. This man seemed particularly vicious, and he wound up and donkey-punched her right in the back of the head, causing her long blonde hair to fly and her face to pitch forward. She braced her hands against the seat in front of her to prevent impact, looking dazed and overwhelmed.
"That's it, take it, you dumb bitch!" the businessman grunted, still thrusting his hips with a firm arm around Shannon's waist. He moved his up to grope her breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh. Shannon blinked and instinctively twisted her face into a brainless smile, trying to clear the cobwebs. The businessman was clearly in an abusive and dominant mood on that day, and she was bearing the brunt of it. "With tits like that and this big, round ass, you should be getting fucked like this at all times! Nnngh! I'm going to cum! Take my big, thick, backed-up load in your worthless ass-pussy!"
There was a sound like a drain unclogging as the sweating, wheezing man lurched against her back and uncorked what seemed like an endless spray of semen deep into her clenching, churning bowels. He groped her tits and yanked her blonde hair as he did so, and Shannon dutifully moaned out in mock orgasm, a sound that wasn't too much unlike crying… making it quite easy for her to fake. She was used to interruptions like this, but two in one morning was a particularly unlucky start.
They sat silently as he softened inside her over the next few minutes. She watched the buildings go by in the great, grey city of reconstructed Washington - even the recreational and commercial areas had a uniform sameness in their colors and angles. Every building was box-like or some variation of a simple geometric shape. Advertising panels and signage were placed a mandated distance apart, used a curated color palette and espoused information that was approved by the OFC. Shannon kept her smile pasted on and barely felt her partner's gropings and nipple-pinchings as the minutes passed.
Her stop was before his. "This is my stop, sir," she explained. "Or will you be using me some more?"
The businessman, who had busted his nut and lost most interest in the females around him, was tucking his dick back into his fly. He looked out the window at the towering building outside - the largest and tallest complex in all of Washington, in fact.
"Office of Female Compliance?" he chuckled. "You work here? No wonder you're such a good fuck."
"Thank you, sir."
"I should make you get on your knees and suck my cock clean, as well - but I guess I'd make some OFC bigwig upset that he doesn't have his coffee this morning," the man went on, freely expressing contempt that was forbidden for women to even imply. "So I'll let you go."
"Thank you, sir," Shannon said. And then, pausing to straighten her panties, she took several strides off the bus and down onto the landing, velise in hand. The entrance to the OFC office was suitably intimidating - a funnel like plaza of three levels, each with five steps, arriving at the large double doors where security checks could be performed. The security guards were about half male, which was rare for most lines of post-outbreak work, but made a certain amount of sense. It was a pseudo-military job, for one, and the military had the highest proportion of men. Second, it was a job that 'fit' the new social order of men giving orders to women and being unquestioningly obeyed.
Shannon prayed she didn't get pulled aside for a random screening. To enter the OFC office, she would have to present a government issued passcard - but women were still subjected to random compliance inspections even with such a card. During such inspections, security staff - again, usually male - would strip her, examine all clothing, and then grope her buttocks, breasts and pussy as much as they wanted. Occasionally the performance of her mouth and ass-pussies would be tested, as well as her actual vagina, and if she showed even the slightest hesitation in submitting to these tests, she would be fired and flagged as a possible subversive.
Luckily, the security guard was one of the female ones, a cold-eyed, hardcase bitch with a tightly-drawn ponytail. She was suspicious, and oh-so-eager to please her male superiors (even in cases where the job description was the same between the sexes, men were considered superiors to women in the workplace), but allowed Shannon to pass with a simple card-swipe.
Clutching her valise, she made her way to the 54th floor via a large elevator. Her ride up was mostly women, and while she could detect groping going on in the car and heard a male voice call someone a 'stupid cunt', it wasn't directed at her. Another potential pitfall avoided. She checked her phone and saw she didn't have time to delay even a moment before making her way to the conference room to deliver her daily briefing. Shannon's official title was "Secretary", but what she mostly did was gather stories of interest from various intelligence sources within the company, and compile them into a briefing, which she would read aloud every morning to the department heads.
Right on time, she strode into briefing room with her high heels clacking on the tile, moving down the center aisle formed by the rows of desks on either side. A podium with the OFC logo on the front - an astrological Venus symbol with a keyhole in the center of the circle - was waiting for her, the attached microphone already live. On either side, expectant men were waiting on her report. Most were older, but a few were young stars on the rise. It was an intimidating position to be in, seeing more men in a morning than most women in the post-reconstruction would see in a week, but Shannon kept steady. Her asshole was hurting, the back of her head was throbbing, her throat was scratchy, but she kept walking along with the cum-streaked smile plastered on her face. One of the younger men, seated closest to the aisle, leaned in and gave her round ass a slap as she moved by.
Some of the department heads had comfort women with them, females they had asked to suck their cocks or lick their balls during the meeting. It was courtesy for these women to keep their gasping and moaning to a minimum, and for the men to select only women who didn't have pressing tasks to attend to for the other men, such as fetching coffee. If there was ever a conflict, the women had no say in the outcome - men decided things between men. Shannon reached the podium, gathered her velise, and took out a sheaf of papers. She tapped the mic and it whined. Her blonde hair was tangle and matted in places where her brother had splashed his cum on it, and she still had dick cheese chunks in her nose and on her lips, not to mention splashes of extra-stinky cum drying on her face. Mascara ran around her eyes in raccoon circles and inky tears.
She looked out over the assembly. There were two-dozen important men in the room, including the head of Female Re-Education, the Commissioner of Truth, and the Minister of Womanlaws. (Womanlaws were, predictably, laws that only applied to women but that men were free to ignore.) Shannon's smile was absolutely ironclad and pulled so tight it seemed her teeth would break and her lips would tear. She saw three or four heads bobbing in the crotches of the suited men as their cocks were sucked by interns, other women sat nearby so their huge tits and big asses could be groped, reflecting the same sort of twisted, unblinking grin. Every face the same, always no more than one woman to a man.
"Good morning sirs," Shannon began, fanning out her papers on the podium.
"Get on with it, you stupid cumdump," said a middle-aged man in the front row, immediately. "Your face is covered in cock cheese and you look like you've been raped five times already this morning." He had his hand in the hair of an 18-year-old intern and was choking her nearly unconscious with his thick, long cock as it jutted out of the fly of his slacks.
"Yes sir," Shannon said. Being talked to this way in the workplace was part of her job. Sexual harassment wasn't just permitted at the OFC offices, it was almost mandatory. She typically had her ass grabbed dozens of times a day, was assigned to give blowjobs and fetch coffee (despite being more qualified than most of the men when it came to analyzing the surveillance data) and called a stupid cunt. She gathered her breath and began reading the list of key items from the day's report.
"A final analysis has come in regarding the viability of female livestock enterprises," she read. "Several pilot programs now being operated in the midwest have shown promise in putting unrehabilitated, non-compliant women and female criminals to use as dairy cows. A report with more information is on file."
She shifted a paper and moved on. "A raid was conducted on a residence in which seven female dissidents had disabled or sabotaged compliance cameras to make the building look uninhabited. Inside, the non-compliant females were dressed with insufficient immodesty and had arranged a 'viewing party' for the banned old media 'Wonder Woman'. A list of over one-thousand new restrictions on old media has been published by the Commission of Truth. A bulletin will go out to all residents giving them two weeks to dispose of any offending material."
John Sieg, the white-haired head of the OFC, was in the room. He was a thin man and had the hardest, coldest stare Shannon had ever seen. Now, he spoke up. "Make it known to all networks and news programs that these women are to be referred to as a terrorist cell. All programs should prepare reports indicating the dwelling contained high amounts of homemade explosives, which the women intended to use on elementary schools and hospitals. Link the viewing of banned old media to violent and deviant behavior. Mister Partridge's department will develop the proper talking points for all networks."
"Yes sir," Shannon said, jotting down the notes on her paper as he relayed them, Following the meeting it would be her responsibility to relay them to the appropriate department heads. After doing so, she moved on.
"Speech analytics show that Mr. Partridge's campaign is showing results and women are increasingly using 'pussy' to refer to any orifice in their body and 'rape' to refer to any sexual act. Polling data shows that these terms are contributing as predicted to feelings of helplessness and receptaclization in the greater metro area, with an adoption rate of forty percent, and lower rates moving outward to more rural communities."
"That is still far too slow," Sieg grumbled. "Inform the network vetting teams that the foremost characters on network womandramas should refer to sexual acts as 'rape' and their mouths as 'mouth-pussies'. Offer a subsidy for any media that meets quotas, from the Finance Ministry's cultural discretionary fund."
"Yes sir," Shannon said, and continued to make notes. "Moving on, an incident of physical non-compliance was caught on cameras early last night," she said, and her notes indicated an attached video file. There was a laptop with a video link to the large conference room viewscreen beside her, which would be queued up with all relevant media files in order.
She flicked the screen on and a blurry, black and white image popped up. In it, a cocky young man, perhaps no older than 18 or 19, was harassing a woman as she walked. The woman was a brunette, perhaps in her mid-20's, her hair neck-length, with a thin frame but a large pair of tits, showing considerable cleavage. The male was being very aggressive, groping her has, pulling her to him and mashing her big boobs with his hands, licking her neck and whispering in her ear. Shannon's eyes narrowed. There was something familiar about the women. The motion detecting camera zoomed in. The male said something. The female said something. They appeared to talk for a second. The male reached his hands clumsily her skirt and threw it up, exposing her butt. The woman's purse fell to the ground and something rolled out and fell into a storm grate - it looked like a smartphone or tablet device.
Celia, Shannon suddenly thought. Celia lost her phone yesterday.
The woman became animated. The man looked taken aback… but then reached up to grab her breasts again. Then it happen. The woman put up a hand, extended her middle-finger, and then kicked the young, fit-looking man right in the balls. He was rolling around, clutching his groin, when she trotted off. The men in the room were aghast, watching the footage.
"That terrorist bitch!" cried one.
"Why do we have no better angle than this?" Sieg barked, immediately. He looked around at the other men in the room. "At this distance-"
The woman began to walk closer to the camera as she made her way down the street. It was still color-washed and blurry, but you could *almost* make out her identity. Shannon's heart was beating a mile a minute, and she nearly lost her womanface as she hoped by some miracle that the identity of the woman would not be discovered. She recognized the place where the incident occurred - an alley behind the FPD, or Female Products Dispensary, nearest the home that she, Celia, Kylie, and Leo all shared. Her heart was pounding and she tried her best to calm herself. The newer cameras, such as those installed in the OFC headquarters, had infrared capabilities and could detect abnormalities in mood.
The clip reached its end as the woman turned down a side-street, giving one final glimpse of the side of her face, partially obscured by hair, before it ended. There wasn't a blowjob going in the room anymore, the offense had garnered the full attention of every man there. "This is an outrage," Sieg barked, and looked around again. "Mister Kane, what does the Ministry of Surveillance have to say about this? Why are is there no other footage, or alternative angles."
The nervous-looking Mister Kane, a black-haired, glasses-wearing spook type, replied haltingly. "It seems several cameras were down for maintenance," he explained. "This was an older model, due to be replaced."
"Drones?" Sieg barked.
"None operational in the area at the time in question."
"Satellite?"
"Too much cloud and smog cover. The satellite network has been largely useless to our department in the metro area for months now, it was in my report-"
"Goddamn it!" Sieg cried, and slammed his desk one with one hand. "I want this female found. Immediately. And when she is, she should be subjected to the harshest re-education. Her rehabilitation, and the results, will be filmed for the edification of the masses."
Shannon kept her doll-faced smile as she watched the interaction between the men. Kicking a man in the balls was considered an ultimate faux pas. Balls were symbols of male power. Pornography was a government enterprise, strictly controlled, and scenes of ball-worship were among the most popular for men, which meant, they were required viewing for women as well. Women were taught that licking a man's sweaty, filthy balls was one of their only purposes in life. Shannon had spent many nights simply sucking and slurping at the nuts of her perverse brother, Leo. The lowest, groping man's nutsack was to be held in higher esteem than even the most intelligent and capable woman.. So to kick them? To potentially damage those sacred nuts? It the heads of the OFC, it was an outrageous crime!
Voices in the room were beginning to rise as the men talked among each other. Shannon kept smiling her brainless smile.
Oh, Celia, she thought. What have you done now?
"Hellooooo!" Kylie called, chipperly, waving as the door opened to provide passage to the newest customer, a powerfully-built and athletic man with black hair in his early 20's. "Welcome to Satisfaction!" She was standing in her maid outfit behind the front desk, greeting customers. The owner of the establishment, Mister Phillips, liked to use the peppy redheaded Kylie out front because her womanface was so authentic and he'd never had a complaint about her service. Today was no different; the way her blue eyes lit up below her red hair and puffy, jagged starburst pigtails nobody could ever have thought she was being insincere.
Kylie loved sex, and desired it enough that seeing any man usually made her giddy. As such, she was the perfect employee for a male relief establishment, a combination restaurant, bar and spa in which males with means could come to receive any kind of relief they wanted. While it was true that any woman was available to any man, sometimes the logistics of such couplings didn't work out - if a woman was tired, ill, or had already been used, it could occasionally lead to a less than satisfactory sexual encounter. Thus, men still felt the need to come to professionals in spite of their unfettered access.
"Will you be dining or using our spa today?" Kylie asked, looking at the man expectantly.
"Spa," he said, immediately, walking up to the front desk. He wore a button-up shirt and slacks, but no jacket, his sleeves fitted trim to his arms. A young businessman with money and time to kill. Kylie winked and giggled. He was pretty cute, and he seemed ready to get down to business quickly.
"Shall I tell you about our service packages?" Kylie chirped, leaning forward seductively and putting her waist up against the desk, showing off a large amount of cleavage in the frilled front of her maid outfit. Her big nipples could clearly be seen tenting the fabric. "I'm sure we could find something you'd like."
"Sure."
"It's a hundred dollars for a throat rape and cock cleaning," Kylie said, winking. "A hundred more for a body-soaping and wash via breasts. And if you pick a girl who has the equipment for it, you can pay a hundred to fuck her tit-pussy."
"A girl like you?" the man asked, smirking, and Kylie giggled.
"Oh, you're making me blush!" she tittered, putting a hand to her mouth.
"What if I'm feeling more aggressive?" the man went on. There was a dark, dangerous sexual heat in his eyes that made Kylie's tummy quiver.
"Mmm…" she moaned. "Well, I'm sure I can accommodate you… but if there's medical care needed, additional charges may apply."
"You really are a stupid fuckin' whore, aren't you?" the man growled, and reached across the desk, grabbing Kylie by the cheek and shoving his thumb into her mouth. She instinctively started sucking it. "I need my balls drained, so let's get started right now!"
"Mmm! Nnnngh… Room… 6… is open!" Kylie purred, and before she could utter another word, she took the imprint of the man's credit chip and was being dragged down the hall by the hair, her sexy legs skittering on the slipper floor as he aggressively pulled her along. Once inside the room, which featured a bed, massage table, and hot tub with a pleasing low-light atmosphere, she was thrown unceremoniously onto the mattress.
"Ooh, you're in hurry, aren't you, Mister…?"
"Ribbonmaker," the man finished for her, and reached down with two powerful hands to tear her dress downward and expose her breasts, ripping the fabric. Her big, fat milk tanks didn't just pop out but flopped, bouncing and jiggling on either side of her narrow torso, extended in semi-circles further outside by far than her rib cage. Kylie was growing excited and licked her lips as the man pinned her down and started groping and cupping her titflesh with his hands, pulling first one large nipple into his mouth to suck lewdly and then the other.
"Oooh!" she moaned, mischievously. "You like my tits, huh? But you better not get too caught up and forget about mouth!" She pointed a finger at her lower lip and licked around her shiny coat of gloss.
"You want to suck my cock, don't you?" Ribbonmaker growled, roughly.
"Mmm, I looooove sucking cock! It's my favorite thing!" Kylie assured him, her eyes growing half-lidded and her tone conspiratorial. "I hope you haven't washed your dick in weeks. I love when guys have smelly, filthy cocks and just shove them down my fucking throat!"
Ribbonmaker began fumbling with his belt. "You really are a fucking whore, aren't you?"
"Mmm! I'll be whatever you want, sir," Kylie cooed. When she saw the shape tending Ribbonmaker's boxers, and the wet stain that his leaking pisshole had made in the crotch of the grey wool, and eyes lit up as she took a deep inhale through her nose. "Nnnngh! It stinks!" she moaned, licking her lips. "I hope you have a lot saved up for me. I hope you didn't wash your cock in months!"
"Here you go, whore," Ribbonmaker spat, letting his hard cock explode out of the restriction of his waistband, slapping his trim, fix midsection. It was thick, nearly ten inches long, and the bulbous head was swimming in a wrap of foreskin and leaking pre-cum down the shaft. The entire thing looked oily with sweat, and a ring of smegma was visible in the place where the foreskin met his glans and his pisshole poke out.
"Oooh!" Kylie cooed, her eyes lighting up even more. "It's so big!" She reached up to put her bare hand on the greasy shaft and started stroking up and down, keeping her eyes focused on that meet. "Do you want to use my mouth-pussy, or my tit-pussy? For a double fee, you can use both!"
"I'll do what I want and we'll worry about the price later," Ribbonmaker insisted, and rose to his feet on the mattress, grabbing Kylie by her sprightly red pigtail puffs and hauling her up to a seated position. "Suck my balls, bitch - I know you love it!"
Any woman in Washington would have gleefully told Ribbonmaker that he was right, she did love it. It was, after all, the law to tell men exactly what they wanted to hear. But Kylie, unlike most, really, really did sucking on a big pair of balls. She loved feeling those nuts roll around on her tongue, she loved the taste of the sweat and dried cum and grease as it defiled her mouth, she loved gathering that loose scrotum skin in her mouth and just sucking it clean! Kylie immediately buried her face in Ribbonmaker's swollen, heavy scrotum and started sniffing and licking, bathing her features in his musk and kissing lewdly at his balls, pursing her lips and slurping first one big, egg-shaped ball and then the other, stuffing her nose into the cleft between them and sniffing hard enough to get his male stench into her nostrils. Her huge breasts hung like fleshy milk bags as she sat splay-kneed on the mattress, thighs spread and orally serviced her customer. The fee was already up to a hundred dollars, of which ninety-five would be kept by the establishment and five would be Kylie's discretionary income, to spend on female-permitted purchases such as cosmetics, sanitary items, of state-sanctioned female focused media viewing.
Ribbonmaker grunted, clenched his teeth and fell forward, collapsing on top of Kylie and grabbing his big nutsack with one hand, smothering her mouth with it and gathering his nuts like a two-lobed club, shoving them harshly against the underside of her nose. "Smell my fuckin' sweaty nuts you stupid bitch," he growled, straddling her breasts and not giving Kylie even an inch to breathe. "Take a big sniff!"
Kylie did, and her eyeballs fluttered from oxygen deprivation and inhaling pure, aerosolized sweat and ball-stink. It smelled like fucking shit, but she loved it anyway. She had been raised basically from birth to be a receptacle for men, to the extent that such olfactory abuse turned her on. She moaned as her eyes began to roll up and backward. The same smile that Shannon and Celia had to work so hard at came effortless as Ribbonmaker's big balls completely stuffed her nostrils.
It was perhaps 45 seconds before he let her breathe, and by that time Kylie was gasping hoarsely and seeing stars. She knew it didn't matter if she was damaged - her employer had an insurance policy on her well-being, with him, not her sisters or brother, as the beneficiary. If she was hurt in the line of work, he would see a substantial payoff. It excited her that this man had come in off the street looking to mistreat her - taking such clients was her specialty, and she would often go home with bruises all over her tits, and a scratchy throat from bouts of long, brutal oral sex.
"Peel my dick with your huge cow tits, stupid," Ribbonmaker spat, and slid backward a bit so he was straddling her small frame and his long cock jutted exactly between her two mounds of breast-flesh. "Clean off my with those fucking milkers!"
Kylie enthusiastically did so, pressing her huge, round tits together on each side of Ribbonmaker's shaft and bending her nipples up and in to press like like pillows against the point where his foreskin met his glans. She dug her nips into his skin and pressed downward while he instinctively thrust upward, and the friction did the trick. With a wet, swampy sound, his foreskin was peeled back and she was treated to a huge deposit of lumpy, yellowish cock cheese on the underside of his glans. Kylie's eyes immediately went wide with hunger and she inhaled the pure stench that the newly exposed filth was exuding.
"Fuuuuuck, it stiiiiinks!" she moaned, eye eyes rolling a little. "It's so amazing!"
Ribbonmaker began to thrust his hips, making Kylie's big tits vibrate and wobble like gelatin cakes as he drove his cock between them. She used her arms to wrap herself extra tight around him, forming a warm, wet channel for him to fuck, greased up by his sweat, pre-cum and her spit. The sound of his pelvis hitting the underside of her breasts made a soft whop whop whop as he withdrew and thrust again and again.
"Fuck!" he gasped. "Your tit-pussy is so good, you're gonna… make me cum too quickly, you stupid whore!" Ribbonmaker gasped.
"I want you to!" Kylie moaned, desperately, craning her neck down to kiss and lick at Ribbonmaker's filthy cockhead as it burst from her cleavage at the apex of each thrust. Much of the cock-cheese had rubbed off between her breasts. "Please, impregnate my tit-pussy! Fucking rape my huge tits! I want my tits to be fucked up by your smelly cum and your stinky cock cheese!" She was egging him on, enjoying the sensation of being roughly used and the tingling it caused in her pussy, her belly and her sensitive breasts. She knew he was close, and as much fun as sex was, the result - the cum - had always been Kylie's favorite part. She was a total semen addict who considered herself lucky to have a constantly-horny brother with a short refractory period, who was perverse enough to feel her plenty of thick semen in glasses, jars or straight from the source.
"You fuckin… stupid cunt!" Ribbonmaker gasped, and his eyes went wide as he thrust himself as deep as her could into Kylie's greased-up tit channel. She pressed her arms together extra tight, pilling her tits up extra high so his cock would not emerge from the other side, and quickly a nasty, liquid sound came from within as his balls contracted and started twitching: Spluuuuuurt, Splrrrrrrrg. Spphphphptht!
"Oh, fuck, I can feel it! You're filling my tit-pussy with so much thick cum!" Kylie moaned. She rubbed her thighs together as best she could, nearly coming to orgasm just from the defilement of her large and sensitive breasts. The dark-haired, fit young man was hunched over her like a man pumping a load into a pussy, sweat glistening in the close-cropped bristles of his bangs. He stayed locked with her pressing his muscled pelvis into the underside of her fat, bulging balloons, until at last he settled back. Kylie let her arms fall back as well, and her breasts fell to either side of her, revealing a total mess within. It was like a semen bomb had gone off on the insides of her breasts. Her cleavage was totally covered huge wads of thick cum, chunks of smegma, and curly, black stray pubes that stuck out against the the whitish-yellow goo slathering her fair skin.
"Gosh!" she moaned. "It's like you were trying to get my tit-pussy pregnant! What a huge load… and now my tits are raped full of your smelly sperm and cock cheese!" She swooned and put her head back on the pillow. "Mmm… you totally used me as a toilet! I love that!"
"I'm… not done yet," Ribbonmaker panted, huffing and puffing a little. "I wanted to fuck your throat!"
Kylie perked up again instantly and looked down through the valley of her tits toward her customer. "Oooh! You have a lot of stamina, sir!" she complimented. "I love guys who can fuck me and fill me with lots of cum in all my holes!" She licked her lips, and dragged a finger through the mess between her tits, gathering sperm and several flecks of smegma, bring it to her mouth and licking it off her finger. "I especially love drinking cum so please, give me lots!" She was presenting herself as nothing more than a canvas ready to be painted with semen, perfectly in line with the prevailing government attitudes, and her customer responded as expected, standing over her and pulling her head up to his cock, placing her back flush against the headboard.
There was no ceremony before Ribbonmaker stabbed his rapidly-hardening bone into her mouth, pushing implacably forward until the prick helmet jammed into the back of her throat and took the downward angled bend to start penetrating her esophagus. Kylie two puffy red starbursts of hair provided the perfect handles, and her dragged her head and neck around roughly like a man trying to control the steering of an off-road vehicle, showing no care at all for her well being. Drool poured down her chin as she moaned with lust, sliding in bubbly rivers into the already slick canyon between her huge tits.
"Nnngh!" grunted Ribbonmaker, and he thrust his hips, resulting in an immediate wooden BONK as the back of Kylie's head slammed into the headboard. This action and sound repeated itself, slowly at first but picking up speed and providing a drum-beat background to the sordid proceedings. Kylie was very good at deep-throating and didn't gag as the shape of a fat, insistent cock bulged out the slender curve of her neck and a pair of heavy, sweaty balls slapped her chin. She reached around to grab her suitor's muscled buttocks, grabbing them, pulling them in toward her insisting on more - more thrusts, more dick, more uncaring brutality!
Bonk! Bonk bonk bonk bonk bonk bonk. The sound started to grow louder as the man seemed to become more animalistic in his penetration of her throat. The look on his face was one of savagery and bestial release - bushy eyebrows, a hard jawline, clenched teeth, flaring nostrils, rivulets of sweat cutting into the creases of his brow. With every breath he seemed to call Kylie a cunt, a bitch or a whore, he spoke of raping her throat-pussy, of messing her up and destroying her, terms once used for conflict and warfare but now passing into the parlance of sexual conquest by mandate of the OFC. He spoke of using her as a toilet, not literally (though such acts certainly weren't forbidden) but simply as a reminder that the act of fucking her was no more meaningful than the act of evacuation of bladder or bowels, raping a woman's throat-pussy was satisfying like taking a much-needed piss was satifying, the interaction and relative power between the sexes, man to woman, was no different than the relationship between man and urinal.
Kylie was growing dazed, she could feel her brains being scrambled and rattling in her skull and loved it. Her days were filled with so many sexual encounters they sometimes grew mundane, it was rare when a man came along with enough pent-up aggressive to give her a truly dehumanizing skull fuck. She was a beautiful young girl but he was raping her face with all the dignity of a man stuffing leftover sausage into a garbage disposal. Bonk. Bonk. Bonk. The sounds were loud enough, echoing strong enough, to be heard in the main lobby. Her gorge was being tickled by the constant movement of his thick, veiny cock, her throat was being abraded and stretched, yet she was never in danger of vomiting. Vomiting during oral sex was not precisely against the rules - it was occasionally an unstoppable physical compulsion. However, women who vomited too often were occasionally suspected of not trying hard enough to perfect their skills in oral compliance, and it could lead to tickets, fines or sanctions if enough infractions occured.
Kylie would never have this problem. Her perverse brother had been skull fucking her, literally since the moment it was legal. (He had set his watch to mark the exact second, and shoved his fat, unwashed, stinky cock down her throat on her birthday.) She had large dildos she used to core out her throat all the way to her stomach, and practiced with them daily. She slept with Leo's cock in her mouth and blew him daily while he played video games. Sometimes he laid on his stomach, playing games, with her face underneath his crotch, and humped her throat into the mattress for hours, ejaculating multiple times without ever taking his cock out of her mouth. This didn't bother Kylie at all, and she had difficulty relating to the troubles of her older sisters - Shannon, who was mostly hopeless at sex but tried her hardest anyway, and Celia, who was talented at it, almost seemingly against her preference. It seemed sometimes like Celia was embarrassed about how much cock she could suck, and Kylie honestly couldn't understand why. Kylie was proud of every inch she could swallow.
"Nnngh! Fuck, you fuckin' stupid toilet! Women are pieces of trash!" Ribbonmaker grunted, and began slamming his hips forward as he approached his climax. Before he had only been mostly uncaring, now he really didn't care. Kylie's skull was bashing into the headboard with force brutal enough to nearly cause it to splinter. Her arms fell limp to her sides as she lost consciousness for a moment, a flash knockout, only to come back to her senses with her brains still being scrambled by repeated face-fucking blows. Kylie's eyes were growing red and tears slid from the sides, but it was simply the lack of oxygen and all the pre-cum and throat slime in her throat and nose… not any sort of mental distress. She lived to be a cock toy and this, she knew, was her lot in life.
Crunch. Her nose was broken as Ribbonmaker slammed his pubis into it at full speed and her head rattled against the headboard, leaving her nowhere to go. It was the second time this had happened to Kylie in her life; the first time had been with her brother, after she had (intentionally) teased him into a horny rage. There was a starburst of pain, but Kylie knew from experience that medical treatment for sex-related injuries was covered by the government. Her partner yanked her hair up until her twin-tails were totally taut, leaning against her face, putting all his weight on her, making sure he was buried to the hilt and his fat cock was more than halfway to her stomach. He grunted like an animal as he began to cum into her well-raped mouth and throat.
Kylie could feel the hot, chunky splashes of semen pouring deep into her guts and felt a wave of euphoria wash over her. She really did love cum, to the extent that a nice, big dose could give her a rush of pleasure and endorphins, and Mr. Ribbonmaker seemed like he had quite a load in his balls. She could tell his shots from the feel and from the number of times he clenched his buttocks and hissed out breaths from his clenched teeth. Five. Six. Seven. Spurt after thick, chunky spurt of his backed-up semen was becoming her meal.
When he pulled out, a bridge of thick cum-strands connected his cock with her mouth. Kylie's face was slightly out of sorts because of the crooked nose, but there wasn't much blood at all - just a tiny thread out of one nostrils. She painted through her mouth, blowing semen bubbles with her tongue out and her eyes rolled back, making a show of how destroyed she was. "You… totally raped my… throat-pussy…" she complimented. "Thank you for fucking up my face. You're so amazing!" She rubbed her thin midsection to show she treasured the cum inside. Her eyes were already beginning to purple up nicely. She would probably be out of action for a few days, professionally, but Kylie knew she could defend on her pervert brother to make her suck his unwashed cock and clean his smegma whether she had a broken nose or not.
There was papery rustle as Ribbonmaker held up his credit chip and swiped it on Kylie's wristband. This electronic transfer device didn't give any money to her, of course, only to the establishment. "Get that taken care of," he ordered. "If it's more than that, have your boss bill me." He sat down on the mattress and began to put his pants and shirt back on. Kylie slumped down to the pillows, her breasts flopping to either side of her. She was a total mess, but somehow her chipper sexual enthusiasm still shone through. Through blurry eyes she saw that Ribbonmaker was watching a news broadcast as he slowly dressed, playing on the wall-mounted video screen with the volume off.
"THE LINK BETWEEN NONCOMPLIANCE AND TERRORISM" the chevron read, and an earnest female newscaster was speaking silently. After a few seconds of this, the broadcaster turned to the side camera and began speaking earnestly about the next story. Again, her words couldn't be heard, but the chevron changed to "FUGITIVE NC WANTED IN WASHINGTON AREA". NC, of course, meant 'non-compliant'. Still images from a video were being shown next to the newscaster's head - black and white grainy shots that depicted a woman being groped and then responding by kicking a man in the balls. She was thin, with brown hair and large breasts, and struck Kylie as quite familiar. Ribbonmaker grunted when he saw this.
"I hope they throw the book at that bitch," he grunted.
Kylie crawled across the bed and rubbed a hand between his legs. "Mmm, yes," she cooed, her noise a bit buzzy because of her broken nose. "These amazing balls are where you make all that thick cum. I would never disrespect a man's balls."
Ribbonmaker looked down with annoyance. "Fuck, I already fucked the shit out of your throat-cunt and you still want more?" he marveled. "Don't you ever get enough?"
Kylie giggled and licked her lips, and on the television, a man appeared on the broadcast desk, his pants pulled down to show hairy legs, and began to jerk off in the female newscasters face. As he sprayed her features with rope after rope of semen, she did not even react.
"All rise," the bailiff ordered. "The tribunal will now commence in the matter of Alicia Shance vs. the Office of Female Compliance."
Celia stood up ramrod straight in the jury box, one of twelve women. Putting a man on a jury would never work, of course - the women would all feel compelled to vote the same as him, since his thoughts on the case would be mantruth and thus, indisputable. Thus Celia was in a herd of a dozen women from all walks of life, dressed in their best suits, all within the proper boundaries of immodesty. Hemlines were up, high heels were on, makeup was exaggerated, bustlines were enhanced and put on display. It was an OFC case, after all, and every woman there knew men would be watching. They wore identical, uncanny plastic smiles. The bailiff, also a woman in a black security uniform bearing an OFC badge, wore the same smile. There were nearly three-dozen women in the room in all, among the jurors and gallery, and only three men - the judge, the prosecuting barrister, and the defense barrister.
At a table ten feet away from the judge's raised platform, Alicia Shance, a blonde woman with a pixie cut and an athletic figure, stood handcuffed in a jumpsuit of prison orange. Even prison uniforms obeyed modesty standards, consisting of buttock-revealing shorts and tight crop-top shirts, and Alicia's pasted-on, toothy smile seemed to barely hide her dismay. In fact, she looked about to cry. Celia could relate. Since the incident the night before, she'd been constantly on edge and about to break down. She knew that if anyone found out, she could find herself wearing prison orange just like Alicia Shance, or worse.
"Alicia Shance, you are charged with violation of Section 1, Paragraph 4 of the Compliance Charter, that all men are equally superior. How do you plead?"
"My client pleads not guilty, your honor," said the defense attorney, a blonde-haired man. "It is our contention that Miss Shance's actions constitute proper compliance and respect for the superior sex as put forth by ther Charter."
The prosecuting attorney spoke up on behalf of the OFC at that point. "Your honor, to put this matter quickly to rest, I have exhibits to show exactly what that short-haired cunt was doing," he said." He received the nod from the judge and moved toward a table in the center of the courtroom, putting up several posters in frames. Each one was a picture of a different muscled, buff hunk, flexing and posing.
"Ladies of the jury," he said, "The OFC will demonstrate that Alicia Shance was non-compliant with men who didn't meet her physical standard. These posters were found in her apartment, and they fit the profile of her day-to-day activities, carefully curated to make sure she interacted only with men of a certain profile."
The jurors looked amongst each other and Celia saw immediate looks of anger. Picking and choose men to comply with was a big no-no; even though Celia could relate to it. The fact was, every one of the women on the jury had been fucked and groped by dozens of overweight, hairy, smelly, unwashed, old men, and had no choice in the matter. If they had to do it, they would certainly have no sympathy for someone like Alicia Chance bucking the system.
The OFC called a witness named Burt Tallow on behalf of their case, a very large and sweaty man who had to mop his forehead after the effort of squeezing onto the witness stand. He had at least five days of stubble in his neckbeard. He was asked by the prosecutor about his repeated interactions with 'that blonde, cocksucking piece of shit'.
"When I approached that dyke bitch she told me she was in the middle of her registered menstruation period, and also had a Category 3 illness," he alleged.
The prosecutor used this line of testimony to bring proof of the fact that Alicia Chance's was committing menstrual fraud by introducing medical records. He began bringing out charts and records. He made a case that Alicia had a fetish for fit, muscled men, putting one type of man above another in strata. This was strictly forbidden, and he repeated the mantra that all men were equally superior to women. Celia watched it all with a numbness, her mind slipping back to the day that boorish lout had accosted her. He'd groped her ass and tits, called her a cunt, and told her to get on her knees so he could fuck her mouth. After having such things happen several times that day, Celia had simply snapped. First, she had lost her womanface, which had only made the man more insistent, and he had attempted to blackmail her with it. Then, she had kicked him in the balls.
She looked up from her thoughts to see that Burt Tallow was interrupting the proceedings. "Do you mind if I get a blowjob while I'm up here, your honor?" he asked the judge. The motion, such as it was, was granted, and the portly witness cast a lecherous eye over the assembled women, stared blankly out with their stretched, lunatic smiles.
No way, Celia thought. Not today. My luck can't be this bad.
But it was. Tallow pointed directly at her. Celia, cursed with a graceful, petite runway model frame and big, round tits, had attracted his attention more than the other women. For a moment she almost cried at the hypocrisy - Alicia Shance was on trial for preferring good-looking men, meanwhile, this fat toad on the witness stand could simply pick any woman he wanted because she had the biggest tits in the jury box. It was only with the greatest difficulty that she was able to prevent herself from rolling her eyes and scowling.
"The juror will attend to the witness while we proceed," the judge ordered, and just like that, it was decided. Celia was rousted by the bailiff and escorted out of the jury box. She looked over at Alicia, and she thought she saw some recognition there between them - two strong-willed women for whom compliance was nothing but a misery - before it faded behind their jester smiles. Celia stepped into the witness stand and found crouching space for herself between Tallow's meaty legs. He unbuckled his pants and began to squirm out of them. A waft of sweaty dick stink blew into Celia's face.
"I haven't cum in a while so I'm real backed up," he confided down to her, huskily. "Haven't had a chance to take a bath, either." His underwear came down next, and when the strained briefs slid down over his thighs, Celia came face to face with what he was packing and nearly cried out. It wasn't as long as her brother's dick, but it was the fattest, most disgusting cock she had ever seen. Big swollen balls that seemed the size of fists led up to a tapered shaft that seemed as thick around at the base as a coffee can. It was enormous. "Do a good job of cleaning my dick and remind that terrorist cunt what compliance is all about!"
Celia placed her hands on his hairy, fat thighs and boosted herself up into sucking range. She was on the verge of simply breaking out of womanface and punching this guy right in the nuts, but restrained herself due to the obvious consequences - to do so during a trial would result in harsh penalties. His cock smelled so bad. It stank like rotten cum and dogshit. There was a clumpy, chunky ring of crumbly smegma around his glans that rivaled even what her brother could produce… and the goddamn thing was so thick it would dislocate her jaw!
Tallow reached into her hair and began to pull her head down. The smegma-loaded head smeared against her lips, seemingly the size of her fist, and at last she opened her jaw wide, her light brown eyes staring soullessly ahead and filled with distress. His fat cock began to burrow into her mouth with the creak of her tendons and jawbone. She immediately gagged and dry heaved all over it, punctuating the prosecuting attorney's argument with glottal choking noises, hurks and horks and gluuuuuuuuuuuark!
"I'm going to let you eat all my dick cheese and backed-up, yellowish semen," Tallow confided. "You should feel lucky!" He sighed and began to drag her head all over his cock, up and down, up and down, pummeling her throat and stretching her lips with his girth. "Jeez, your throat is super-tight! It's rough fitting in there, but I kinda like that, you know?"
Celia moaned pathetically and her eyes fluttered and rolled back. The fat scumbag was cutting of her air and what few breaths she could muster will filled with the stench of smegma and sperm. She could feel chunks of dick cheese breaking off, mixing with her saliva and sliding down her throat. The cock's fat pisshole was disgorging a constant stream of nasty pre-cum as well.
The prosecutor was producing records that proved Alicia had been untruthful in relating her menstrual cycle in order to avoid sex. The defense attorney tried to pass it off as an innocent mistake. Female brains, he said, had been proven my government scientists to be smaller than male and less capable of remembering things. It wasn't Alicia Shance's fault that she was a dumb bitch, and her mind had been further clouded on that day by the flu.
Meanwhile, Celia felt like her jaw was going to break. She was wearing a tight necklace of pearls and they snapped and scattered everywhere when Tallow's enormously thick cock burrowed deeper into her throat, making her neck bulge into the shape of his prick helmet. She had already swallowed what seemed like an entire mouthful of his dried sweat, cum and piss, and now he was slowly jerking her impaled face on his cock, making her drool on his balls, and getting closer to climax. "I hope you like having a stomach full of my backed-up, stinky cum and cock cheese you stupid cunt!" he hissed, and the judge banged his gavel to bring the court to order, telling Tallow that if he couldn't keep his sexual encounter silent on the stand, he would have him removed from the court.
Tallow grunted an apology as he popped off down Celia's throat. A fat, backed-up yellow cum worm that seemed as thick as taffy blew out of his cocktip and coiled up in her stomach. Then another, and another. Celia could feel the foulest, genetically defective garbage on earth being dumped into her body and gurgled with dismay, though it was indistinguishable from pleasure to the few who might care. Tallow kept a fist in her hair while he emptied himself, her nose pressing into his fat belly, making her sniff his sweat-matted pubes. Before she passed out from lack of oxygen, Celia heard the prosecutor ask the judge to call for a jury deliberation based on the facts before the tribunal. If convicted, Alicia Shance would be assigned to a compliance re-education facility for a period of one year, where she would be raped dozens of times each day by the fattest, most physically unappealing men available and bombarded with drugs and psychological suggestions to rid her of her preference for one type of man.
Celia's vote consisted of her slumping to the floor. The final tally was 11 votes of guilty and one sexual abstention. She came back around to see Alicia Shance being taken away, her mouth tasting like a cum sewer, her lips smeared with sperm and smegma. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. She tilted her mouth into a crazed, soulless smile with difficulty, and wondered what would become of her.