The Breeder

by Mark Andrews

  Joel (as I now knew him) was not the only male to be brought to the zoo. Other male foreign devils were delivered to the other cages and not all were eunuchs, either. No matter if they were or not, the girls all fought over their bodies for remember, the hormone or whatever the aphrodisiac was that they used on us kept us all as randy as hell and to have a male, even a castrated one to excite us with his body, was far better than masturbating ourselves.

  Now that I am off that drug and can think rationally about it, I can recognise (and feel intense shame for) how erotic it must have been for our keepers and the paying guests to watch us. We were indeed utterly perverted in our need for sex and like an animal in the wild, were, each of us, constantly trying to assuage that endless itch for sexual pleasure, either ourselves, or, if we could get our hands on him, the male they brought to our cages.

  In one of our lucid moments at night, after an hour or so of torrid sex, Joel raised it with me. “Shalomar, I am going to have to make love with the other girls. The keepers will get suspicious if I don’t.”

  I made as if to protest but then I caught myself. Of course he was right and although I had no idea how I was going to contain my jealousy as he ‘made love’ with his pubic bone to their bodies, I knew we were playing with fire by keeping only to each other.

  It was awful. It was worse than I imagined. Much worse. I couldn’t bear to look at him lying with one of the other girls, much less Jenny or Alicia, thrusting his empty groin at them, rousing their clits with his pubic bone while they clung to him, kissing him ardently, raking his magnificent body with their fingers (that looked like claws) and mashing their beautiful breasts against his broad chest ... but I couldn’t not look, either.

  It was really terrible but I knew he had to do it and every now and then he turned to where I was, perhaps squatting down, scrabbling at some cabbage leaves or a banana (just like a real chimpanzee) or even climbing up one of the tree branches to swing from it and stare down at him as he made public love to one of my fellow girl-slaves.

  A few weeks after that my belly stared to show signs of my third pregnancy and from the activity inside it, I knew I now had at least four of the little embryo soldiers inside there this time. This was confirmed by Dr Yuen, who had set up a small clinic in one of the zoo’s offices. He also said he had now managed to reduce the gestation time to four months, hence the early activity in my belly and so would be able to increase our output by fifty percent. He told me this in triumph, knowing I would be appalled by the news. I was, too. Already there must be thousands of the rapidly growing soldier-boys in the factory! Good heavens were they already out in training camps, I wondered. But now those numbers would be augmented tenfold, not only by this increase in our carrying capacity but by the growing army of foreign girls kidnapped to produce them - and now in enormous quantities.

  I was returned to the cage but I was in a state of despair. I knew there was nothing we could do but surely the United States or our own country must have realised by now what was going on? After all, they had combined to bring Saddam Hussein to heel so surely this was an even worse threat to world peace?

  They had. None of us knew it of course and neither did the rest of the world, but various agencies of the US and UK governments as well as some others, had already gleaned some of the truth.

  With our advent into the pony regime, their satellites had quickly cottoned on to and then identified us girls and some of the males. They had also noted that many of us females were pregnant and that the males were all castrated. Speculation on these two facts had been rife of course. It must have taken weeks of agonising over the pictures before a consensus had emerged as to our state and even then they didn’t arrive at the real truth.

  In fact, it was not until a mole, a highly courageous man from North Korea escaped from his job as a technician in the factory, made his way to the border and, with enormous difficulty, crossed into South Korea to inform its agents of the full enormity of what General Sun and Dr Yuen were actually up to, that the whole truth became known. Within minutes, his story was in the hands of the CIA and MI6 (if that’s the right such agency here in Britain) and their experts were quickly sifting through the pictures in the light of the shocking revelations he had made...

  Of course his disappearance sent shock waves through the top echelons of Sun’s government as well and I suspect there must have been a huge shake-up of security in the fortress once it was realised the man had gone - really disappeared, although they never traced him.

  The satellites took pictures of us zoo animals, too. Those pictures must have been highly entertaining for the intelligence officers who saw them and I am assured, at least by our security people, that all copies except those in a very secure, top secret file, have been destroyed.

  What happened, you ask? I am coming to it. Be patient. When it did come, it was sudden but it didn’t happen for a few more months. In the meantime, my four little infant soldiers were growing at the newly increased rate of gestation and my belly was now really huge, protruding in front of me as in a real pregnant sow.

  Joel, as well as my sisters in misery, was all sympathy. You would have thought it was his children growing inside my body for the care and concern he showed and many were the times I had to warn him to back off or arouse the suspicions of our keepers.

  I was the first to be served by one of the giant young Koreans but of course I wasn’t the last and as each girl came to her time, they too were raped in the same manner as I had been.

  For me, watching as Jenny (who was next after me for they could now artificially alter our fertility periods as well) put up an even more spirited defence but, partly because of the sex itch and partly because those young males were really huge, each of them well over six feet six and with the bodies of titans - very handsome and athletic titans, but giants nonetheless, that each of us was eventually overpowered and forced to succumb to their sexual advances.

  Some of them enjoyed the chase, prowling after the retreating girl with huge grins on their faces, making lunges at her while the crowd outside the cage cheered, egging him on, but it always ended in her being caught, thrown to the ground and then brutally raped.

  I suppose the aphrodisiac or hormone or whatever it was, helped us in one way. Without it we might have been mentally and emotionally destroyed by the brutal public rape of our bodies. As it was, once we succumbed to the inevitable, every single one of us actually relished the act as, trained to drag it out for long hours, the handsome young male brought us to countless orgasms of our own. Whether this was to assist in the fertilisation process or merely to satisfy the lechery of our audiences, I don’t know. Perhaps it was both?

  As the weeks and months passed, each and every one of the cages in that small zoo slowly filled to capacity with female brood-slaves, each one eventually falling pregnant and her belly swelling to enormous proportions as the triplets, quads or quins inside her slowly developed.

  My birthing of my third litter was as public as every other act that had happened to me in that country. I was still very fit of course. We were required to climb the trees in our cage and swing from branch to branch all the time and that kept us pretty fit, if not perhaps quite at the peak we had attained in the factory and pulling the gigs and buses but our diet of raw vegetables and fruit and that climbing all the time certainly kept us slim and supple (at least when our bellies were not poking out in front of us like enormous balloons).

  I felt the pains start while I was hanging from one of the branches and I quickly climbed down and assumed their standard birthing position, squatting down with my feet wide and my toes pointing outwards. Jenny and Alicia moved up to me since it was already obvious the midwife/keeper keeper wasn’t going to get there in time.

  Out came the first, a perfect half Korean, half English little boy and Jenny caught him and held him close while Alicia attended to the umbilicus. Then number two
came along and at that time, the male midwife appeared with his assistants, taking over the birthing of the remaining pair while the little babies already born were removed to be taken to the factory to begin their lives as soldier-slaves.

  It was as heart breaking for me as each of the other two births had been. A mother’s instincts are to nurture her children and in that terrible place, this was denied us. Mind you, I’m not all that sure that I would have wanted to mother those twelve children, knowing what was destined for them. No, perhaps it was best I never saw them after the first moments of their birth for that way, I was able to put them out of my mind more easily and this helped too in the final results of General Sun’s bizarre programme.

  After the birth, we again resumed our lives as monkeys and I wondered how long it would be before another of the magnificent young males was brought in to serve me for a fourth time.

  It didn’t happen. It was only a few weeks after my birthing that the invasion occurred. This time, perhaps from the lessons learned in Gulf War II, the allies, the United States, Great Britain and half a dozen other countries were better prepared and knew exactly what they had to do.

  The general wasn’t half as smart as Hussein, either. Saddam had a number of doubles that acted for him at various times, especially out in public. The general didn’t and neither was he as careful about concealing his programme and he refused to give up using his favourite-of-the-moment gig ponygirl slaves to trot him around his capital.

  The planners therefore were able to target him with relative ease and once they had him, captured alive, they were able to force him to order a surrender of key instrumentalities as well as the armed forces. There was therefore none of the blood letting that had characterised the Iraq war. Indeed, it was all over in a few short weeks and with a vastly more moderate government in place that was already talking to South Korea about a possible reunification of the country that had been split apart for so long.

  We were freed immediately as were the girls and male slaves in both sets of stables, the President’s personal troupe of pony slaves as well as the now quite enormous ones housing the bus teams.

  The girls remaining in the fortress were also released and, with us, taken to a rehabilitation centre and the technicians and guards who chose not to commit suicide were charged with crimes against humanity. Dr Yuen killed himself as did most of his medical friends but the General was tried before an international tribunal and sentenced to be hanged.

  And what of the soldier-slaves? I think they were lucky, in one way. The authorities were at a loss what to do about them for they had been bred and then trained with just one purpose in life - to kill on command. They could do nothing else. It was too late now to try to teach them the three R’s or even to try to adapt their mental and physical beings so that they might, eventually, fit into society. They couldn’t. They were emotionally and physically incapable of interacting with other people but what to do about them?

  The occupying powers couldn’t just kill them, although if things had been different, perhaps that might have been the most humane thing that could have been proposed. As it was, it wasn’t necessary. They just started to die, all by themselves. The scientists later said Dr Yuen’s artificially increased gestation period coupled with the grossly accelerated growth rate was the most likely cause but the science involved was too new and in totally unchartered waters and as they now began to die off like flies, dozens each day, everyone involved breathed a collective sigh of relief that they hadn’t been led into paths that might have brought untold recriminations later.

  Alicia and Jenny and I were repatriated to Britain at the same time. They didn’t forbid us to talk about our experiences but they did suggest it might be better from our own point of view if we didn’t. I agreed with them but I determined to write this account so I could recall those terrible events later if I wanted to and also as a catharsis to finally expunge the stains from my conscience for as the effects of the drugs or hormones or whatever they were, shame - very real shame, humiliation and mortification at what we had done so openly and blatantly in front of so many people set in and I found it difficult to look other people in the eye, at least at first.

  I think writing this account has helped in that, even if it is only for my eyes, for it has made me see that none of this was in any way my fault. I don’t think there is a single thing I did from the moment of my capture, at which I could feel guilt for even when in the worst days, I clawed at the bodies of the Koreans who were made to fornicate with me, it was drug-induced and I know in my deepest heart that in other circumstances I would have kept myself for my husband to be, when I eventually found him.

  In that I have one thing to thank General Sun for.

  Joel!

  Yes, I have him and every night now we make love in that strange way he has.

  The British Government very quickly smoothed over his coming to England and he immediately enrolled in a commerce course while I returned to my law studies at Cambridge. We married very quickly and this was facilitated by a special grant from the government that allowed us to buy a small house, pay for our studies and have enough left over to cover our living expenses during them. When they are over in a couple of years we intend to set up a joint practice in the same office.

  No, we can’t have children but we are over that hurdle and having mothered twelve of the now dead soldier slaves for General Sun, I don’t want to have more.

  How has Joel coped with his castration? Very well actually. We are both fitness fanatics and I have resumed my interest in gymnastics although I am no longer at the near-Olympic standard I used to be. Joel, with his incredible build, is a middling champion track and field star and the two of us work out our energies in these two sports.

  Not that our sex is limited, mind.

  Oh no indeed! Sometimes, it is quite enough that we just lie together and he rubs his pubic bone against my mound. That is certainly enough for me but we have found that when he straps on a dildo and makes love to me with the enormous thing, it is even better.

  As an experiment, I wondered to him one day if he would like me to try doing it to him - up his backside. He was horrified at first for there is certainly nothing gay about him, but then, as time passed and he obviously thought about it more and more, he sheepishly told me he would like to try it out and so I did, using a very slender but quite long dildo on the strap and he lay there, on his back, with his knees drawn up to his chest and I carefully and slowly pushed in.

  His face, quizzical and nervous at first, soon showed pleasure and I began to increase the pace. Nowadays, I rape him as often as he does me and with quite large dildos and we both love it.

  And the zoo? It is closed once more I am told (for neither of us has any intention of visiting Korea, at least in the short term) and it is again falling into disrepair, the weeds again marking the paths and the cages rusting and empty.

  I lost a couple of years of my life but I found Joel and that more than makes up for all those terrible months.

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