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NSFW The freeuse act hot anti female sex story



Jul 5, 2021
Utopia: Penitentiary
by Mecca


“Women are people! Women are people!” the crowd roared, angry female fists pumping with every word. They stomped, cussed, and spit as they pushed against the line of shields held by armored police officers. Across the way, a blazing fire lit up the night sky where the King’s County Courthouse once stood. The officers, all men, didn’t seem scared. They joked with one another as they held the line separating thousands of women from the police headquarters.

Their ease infuriated Minoko, who pushed up her glasses and stared directly into the eyes of Officer Camaro. “You pigs will pay for turning our country into a literal fascist state!” she growled at him.

Camaro looked to Weiss, his partner, with a smirk, then back at the angry diminutive woman before him. “I’ve got a question,” he said, straight-faced. His voice was barely audible over the ruckus of the protesters. “If ‘women are people,’ does that mean men aren’t people? Isn’t that a bit sexist?”

Minoko stared in visible confusion at the officer’s feigned ignorance. “What? What kind of idiot-”

Just then an explosion rang out. The protesters, mostly women, were throwing Molotov cocktails at the headquarters. With that, the command was given and the officers pushed into the crowd, using the batons liberally to thin the ranks of violent women. Minoko was knocked to the ground, hard, by Camaro’s shield. This saved her from the blunt end of his baton, but others were not so lucky.

Fucking finally, thought Camaro, as he brought down the baton on some fat lesbian who was shielding herself with her arms. He used the shield to push the women back, compressing bodies against bodies before the back of the crowd knew what was happening. With the front of the crowd falling backwards, he used the baton against the next line, knocking heads, arms, and backs to knock them to the ground. Scores of women quickly fell to the ground, some getting up immediately to run, but dozens too wounded to stand. They had been unprepared for the violent consequences of their civil disobedience. An apt metaphor, Camaro thought, for centuries of women wreaking havoc and expecting no consequences for their actions.

Camaro smiled with bloodlust. While he’d thoroughly enjoyed the free sex over the last month, what really drove him was the opportunity to beat women. It was rare he got to use his baton on the law-abiding, sexually available women in public. But no one in the world cared if he bruised up these angry bitches.

Minoko had not been injured too much from her fall; she remained on the ground due to shock. A minute later, she finally rose, realizing it was time to go. But before she could escape, Weiss grabbed her arm and bound her wrists in plastic handcuffs. “Your time is over,” said Weiss to the scared girl. “Men are back.”


Six hours later Minoko was still sitting on the bus parked in front of McColough Penitentiary. It was still dark. She didn’t know why they were taking her here instead of letting her go, or at least taking her to a local jail. She hadn’t done anything wrong, she was simply part of a protest. She had a million questions, but the officer at the front of the bus wasn’t taking any questions. Not even when she pleaded to use the restroom.

It made sense that they were here, though. McColough was one of the first prisons to be turned into a newly modernized women’s detention center. When the Freeuse Act was finally enacted, the government had expected some women to rebel. However, they were not prepared for massive protests in every major city in America, some led by millions of protesters. While most of them had been peaceful and some of them had been violent, the mere act of protesting for rights was illegal for women. Part 6, Section 3 made it a crime for women to participate in “conduct unbecoming of a lady” which included behavior like refusing a sexual request from a man, but also things like disturbing the peace, being out at night without a permit, and “promoting, participating in, or encouraging other women to participate in the formal objection of the laws and statutes contained in this Act, or any other Act limiting the rights of women or expanding the rights of men.”

So all female protesters from every recent protest had been arrested, unless they dispersed before police could arrest them. After being arrested, they were sent to prisons like McColough, or whatever detention centers had room for the new female prisoner population. The 1% of male protesters had been ignored, or at the very most, cited, depending on their level of civil disobedience. It was principally a female-led resistance movement, as most men around the country saw enormous potential in the new laws. Indeed, most men around the world agreed with the concept and passed similar laws in almost all First World nations.

Back on the bus, Minoko sat in pain, squeezing her legs as she struggled to contain her bladder. She daren’t ask again for permission to use the restroom and risk getting hit by a baton. Instead, she gave up and pissed her jeans tearfully, feeling great shame but enormous relief. She kept her head down so she couldn’t see the eyes of the woman sitting next to her. Her seatmate shifted away to avoid Minoko’s sour-smelling stream.

Finally the officer spoke again. “Good morning, ladies,” he started. “I’m Officer Benoit. All of you have been arrested for conduct unbecoming of a lady. Are there any men here on the bus?”

“Hey,” piped up someone at the back. Benoit walked to the back and saw that on the very last seat sat a long-haired man. He had a feminine air about him, but with his 5 o’clock shadow growing in, it was more apparent he was indeed a man. Benoit unchained the man from his seat and told him to go to Sector A. The man stood, grateful not to suffer whatever fate the government had in mind for these women, but then stood still and looked back at his fellow protesters in sympathy.

“Go, or I’ll charge you with resisting orders,” said Benoit. The man sheepishly left the bus. “Alright, are there any other men on board?” No one spoke up. “Alright, well then by the power vested in me by the state of Washington, I officially charge you all with conduct unbecoming. I find you all guilty and you are sentenced to serve three years at a federal women’s facility.” The bus grew loud with shouts and screams from the frantic women. Benoit banged his baton against the metal pole holding attached to a seat. “Quiet!”

The women mostly quieted down, but one woman stood as high as her chains would allow. “You can’t do this! We demand a trial by a jury of our peers!” said Marcy, a thirtysomething woman sitting next to Minoko. She was hunched over from the tight chain connecting her to her seat.

“You are women. The Constitution only applies people, not women. Surely you’ve read this bill that you all are so against?” The women grew quiet. “Now if there are no further protestations you will be allowed to serve your sentences immediately here at McColough Penitentiary.

“Wait!” said Marcy, standing again. “I am a man!” Benoit cocked his head, went outside to get another officer and the two of them entered the bus. The second officer walked up to the hunched over woman, visually inspected her, shook his head, and talked briefly with Benoit. While Marcy had a short brown pixie haircut and her boobs were not large, it was clear that she was female from her waifish features. She had a pretty face, although she wore little makeup.

“Okay, Officer Hughes and I both believe you to be a woman. For this reason, I will conduct a quick gender check.” Marcy shook her head and sat down, but Benoit pulled her up with one strong arm, and pulled down her corduroys with another arm. Navy blue panties covered her parts. As Marcy protested, Benoit then pulled down her panties, revealing a large brown hairy thatch above barely-hidden pussy lips. Marcy shook and cowered in humiliation and fear. Benoit was squatting down, inches from her pussy. He looked up at her as if to express disappointment. He squared his jaw. Then he rose up again, grabbing one of her pussy lips on his way. He stared deep into her quivering brown eyes and twisted her labia, causing Marcy to shriek in pain.

“I have found you to be female. You are hereby charged and found guilty of impersonating a man, in addition to your other crimes. You are sentenced to a total of four years at McColough Penitentiary.” Benoit looked around the bus. “Would anyone else like to claim that they are a man?”

The bus was quiet.


The prison was crowded. There had been countless busses outside, Marcy imagined perhaps fifty. There were dozens of women in this wide hall with high ceilings, and they were still filing in with the encouragement of men with batons. In front of them, a line of officers. These officers were not wearing armor, but they each did have a baton. Behind the men were a dozen or so doorways. Entries into the main part of the prison, Marcy surmised. It was a bit dim, as some of the fluorescent lights were flickering or out completely. Behind the line of officers and in front of the crowd of women was a large vinyl sign that said, “STRIP” in block letters.

It was a bit noisy with men behind them hitting and pushing women, and with women talking and whining amongst themselves, but it was definitely a quieter scene than the riot. The man in front of them pointed to the sign and said, “Strip. All the way down.”

Minoko stood behind Marcy, a large wet patch still covering the front of her jeans. “I… uh… want a female officer,” she said.

The correctional officer in front of her took a step forward and lifted his baton menacingly. This was all that was needed to get Minoko to begin stripping. For most of the women, the threat of the baton was all that was needed to get them to strip nude. For a few, a taste of the baton was required.

Although a man had already seen her bare pussy today, Marcy was still hesitant to strip. But, seeing all the women around her taking their clothes off, she dropped her pants, lifted her shirt off, and slowly slid down her panties. She stood nude, covering herself until the officers began to ask women, one by one, to enter the doors into the main prison. An officer pointed to her and told her to come forward. Leaving her clothes behind, and the last vestiges of her humanity, Marcy nervously walked through the doorway.

Rain stood behind Marcy and Minoko. She couldn’t see what was behind the dark doorway. But she was not nervous. She was pissed. Pissed that Patriarchy had ruined her country. Pissed that they had made women into literal slaves instead of just figurative slaves. Pissed that she was now being forced to obey these officers for now.

She didn’t see the Patriarchy remaining in control for long. Her entire life, she had seen how women had constantly pushed back against sexist men, making steady progress in the war on sexist pigs. The Freeuse Act was the latest obstacle to freedom; a speed bump on the way to full agency for all genders. Rain had no doubt in her mind that the worldwide resistance movement would overturn this law and make the men and women responsible pay for their crimes against humanity. For the time being she would just have to be strong.

“Go ahead,” said the officer before her. She walked through the doorway, spread the black vinyl curtains and she was in a small, dimly-lit room with just two men. One was sitting at a desk, and the other was standing with a baton at his side.

“Your name?” asked the man at the desk, focusing on his paperwork.

“Rain Purcell,” she answered. She stared downwards with angry eyes. Her hands guarded her genitals.

“Age?” said the man, writing.




“Please bend over and run your hands through your hair.”

“I want a lawyer,” said Rain, her tone firm.

The man at the desk finally looked up, an amused smirk on his face. “You want a lawyer?” he asked, his lower lip trembling at the hilarity of her request.

“Yes,” she repeated. “And my phone call.”

The officer cocked his head. “Well,” he began with a wry smile, “contrary to what you’ve seen in Law & Order, no one is entitled to a phone call. People have the right to counsel according to the Sixth Amendment, but you are just a girl, and not a person. You have no rights. You get-” the officer leaned in and enunciated every syllable as he spoke: “no-thing.”

This was a blow to Rain. She knew that the Freeuse Act removed women’s rights to refuse sex, but assumed they still had basic Constitutional rights. It seemed that fascism had taken complete hold and she was at the complete mercy of these men. That didn’t mean she had to go easy. But she bent over and ran her fingers through her hair.

Rain had a hip style. Her long, dyed-red slightly-wavy hair was shaved on the left side. It was a style that conservative men hated, and for that she loved it more. Rain had received countless compliments on it, so felt righteous as her right hand combed her hair. Her left hand had nothing to do as she bent over. She was holding no contraband. These men were wasting time for no reason, which made her feel good.

“Now the cavity search,” said the man at the desk.

Rain knew getting a female officer for a search was impossible, but she had hoped to avoid men probing her body. The officer behind her didn’t even have gloves! It made a certain kind of sense, as all STIs had been eradicated in America and all first world countries years earlier. It was still customary and more sanitary to use gloves. In fact, it was rude and gross to perform a cavity search without gloves. But the Freeuse Act had legalized anything that gave a man sexual pleasure, and there was no way she could argue that sticking fingers in her holes wouldn’t give him pleasure.

The only thing she could do was to ask for basic empathy. “Wait,” said Rain. “You don’t need to-”

Before Rain could finish her sentence, the standing man withdrew his baton and pressed it against her skin for one second. She had noticed that the batons the officers in the prison carried looked different from those on the outside. They had strips of metal across the sides and top. When the officer touched her hips with the baton, she felt a powerful, painful shock. Electricity coursed through her body and she cried out. Rain obeyed as the man placed his hand on the small of her back.

“Spread your cheeks,” said the man at the desk.

Rain was humiliated, but did not want to be shocked again. Her eyes welled up with tears as she reached back and spread her buttocks, revealing her anus to the man behind her. She gasped as an ungloved index finger entered her vagina. She felt him curling his finger, searching for contraband. As a woman who had avoided rape since the passage of the Freeuse Act, she finally felt used. Like an object. In a way, she was glad. She could now say that the Patriarchy had finally raped her as it had raped all of her sisters for years. She had skin in the game now. No one would call her a mere slacktivist. Rain looked forward at the seated man with angry eyes as the other man withdrew from her pussy and pressed his finger against the tender bud of her asshole.

“Anything in here?” the handsy man said, pressing a finger past her anal sphincter, inside her asshole.

Rain would not cry because of the violations of these men. This was not a legal nor ethical search, in her estimation. This was a rape. And she would not show them weakness. It seemed to take forever to finger her ass, but in reality probably only took seconds.

“Okay, stand up,” said the man behind her. He stepped in front, held her chin, and asked her to open her mouth.

Rain shook her head in confusion. “Wha-” But she felt the bite of the baton as the officer shocked her again. “Aehh!” she whined and then opened her mouth obediently. The officer searched her oral cavity with the same fingers that had just been in her ass. She could taste the earthy taste of her butthole. He removed his brown-streaked finger. She would not forget this. She would not forgive this.

“She’s clean,” said the officer, finally washing her hands.

“Go to the next room,” said the other one. “Hurry up, inmate.”

Rain walked through the next set of curtains and into a room with two men. The men told her to keep still as they cuffed each of her wrists, ankles, and neck with black, tight-fitting hard plastic rings. They appeared to be some sort of device, as they were heavy, and each of the bracelets and anklets had tiny green lights at the seams. She passed into the next room.

This room had just a metal chair. A man in an apron and gloves gestured for her to sit. There was a utility cart full of tools next to him. Similar to the sign in the entry hall, a large sign read “SIT.” Rain sat.

Rain was already nervous about the tools, but she grew more fearful as she felt herself locked into the chair. It appeared that her “cuffs” and choker stuck to the chair, as if they were magnetized. She could not move her arms, legs, nor neck.

The man told her to stay still as she wobbled in her binds and grabbed an electric razor. Rain felt a certain loss of pride as the man shaved her head bald, though this was managable. The legs of the chair moved apart and the man applied the razor to her mons pubis. She had a wild bramble of dark black pubic hair, of course, defying not a single stereotype. A perfect shave would take an hour. But this man sheared her bush well enough, angling the chair and removing the seat so that he could trim her ass hairs as well. When she merely had some coarse stubble, he applied a depilatory cream to her genitals and legs. She would be hairless except for her eyebrows and eyelashes. She felt herself being transformed. She was never that proud of a woman, despite her claims at protests, but she felt like losing her clothes and all her hair was making her lose herself. This made her finally cry.

The chair transformed back into its normal configuration and the man told her it was almost over. She felt fear again as he approached what looked and sounded like a tattoo needle. She tilted her head away as he approached, so he used the stun baton to make her more compliant. It only took a few seconds to write something onto her forehead. It wasn’t too painful, either.

“Don’t worry, cunt,” comforted the man. “The tattoo is only temporary. We’ll redo it every 6 months.” This gave her little relief.


Rain finally entered the prison after finishing the initial rooms. It was just a long hallway, but she knew this was it. She had been stripped, searched, shaved, tattooed, bathed, and lastly, she had received her uniform.

Rain was still completely nude, but now, in addition to the collars and cuffs, she donned black high heels. She felt like a stripper. Never a fan of heels, she stumbled forward as the corrections officer waited on her.

She mostly missed her hair. Without her gorgeous red crown, she looked the same as the women in front of her, Minoko and Marcy. She was slightly taller, with definitely bigger tits than Marcy, but she felt… anonymous. She supposed that was the point.

She had been told that the tattoo she was given displayed her prison id number. Looking at Minoko (11204) and Marcy (11203), she saw that it was true. She supposed she was 11201, as the men had told her. Nude, shaved, and tagged with an id. They were little more than cattle.

That’s what men wanted, right? She had been told that what men wanted was a woman who was a lady in the streets but a slutty freak in the sheets. What they really wanted was livestock. To literally treat them like meat. Control over every aspect of women’s lives until it was feeding time. She knew it was only a matter of time before a “hungry” man took her completely instead of just molesting her holes with his fingers.

When she was a foot behind Minoko, the officer told her to wait. They would be taken in batches. It was hard not to feel downhearted, as a nude, shaven, sluttily-dressed prisoner. But she knew that this could not last. Women were people, and men would recognize this, someday soon. Meanwhile, she would resist in any way she could.

After ten women were lined up, single-file. The officer spoke. His badge said “Parker.”

“Alright, girls,” said Officer Parker. “I’m Officer Parker and I’m going to take you to the yard. Call me ‘Officer’ or ‘CO’ or you’ll feel the business end of my baton. But first, we stop by the toilets.

This was a relief. Rain had been holding her pee in for hours. As they walked, she could finally see a window to the outside, where many women were congregating. This hallway also had a lot of doors, which she assumed were cells. Finally they reached an indoor area with multiple stories and high ceilings. There were benches and tables on the first floor, but the center of the area was clear of furniture. As the women approached the center of this large indoor area, they noticed the middle of the floor had many sets of short pillars on it. Perhaps this was an exercise area?

“Alright girls, these are the toilets. Each of you find a hole.” The women looked at each other, confused. Parker would answer their questions soon. “You might be wondering? Where are the toilets? How do I use this? The answer is simple. As opposed to the Western style-toilets women are encouraged to use on the outside, our toilets are more Japanese-inspired. These are squat toilets. You place your feet on the raised platforms and relieve yourself into the pan. Everyone find a toilet, now, even if you don’t have to go. Go ahead.”

There were two rows of five toilets and the women slowly approached them. Each “toilet” was little more than a recessed pan in the floor in between two raised platforms the width and length of a shoebox. The platforms were a little taller than a shoebox at 6 inches (15cm). There was a small lip in the front of the pan to prevent piss from spilling forward on the floor. There weren’t really even “holes”. The pan was only a few inches deep and didn’t seem to have a drain, so their urine and scat would apparently remain in the basin for everyone to see. The women seemed confused by this and stood in front of the toilets, wondering what to do.

“Now a lot of you are rebels who may not have used the very open, not very private, public commodes located around most cities. You might be used to pissing and shitting alone in a private bathroom, instead where everyone can see you, let alone where they can see it come out of you. This is something you will acclimate to over your tenure at this penitentiary, since all female toilets are like these. There is no privacy. There aren’t even any sitting toilets, like the aforementioned public commodes the government has been installing on the outside. You are still expected to use these toilets, and if you leave a mess anywhere else, you will suffer dire consequences. This is your last toilet break for a few hours, so I suggest you use these facilities rather than go on yourselves and get beaten within an inch of your life. Go ahead, step on up.”

The women apprehensively placed each foot on a raised platform. The heels made them even higher. Now the taller women, like Rain, soared above even Parker’s head. It still didn’t make much sense. If they shat and pissed in the little basins between their legs, wouldn’t the waste remain there until someone cleaned it up? It was like a long bowl built into the ground, but not even as deep as a standard punch bowl. It was almost like they were shitting on the floor.

Parker nodded. New girls always were slow to figure out how these worked. He told them, “Now squat.”

Each of the ten women squatted on their platforms. The rows were 2m apart, far apart enough for Parker to walk between them. He stood behind five squatting women. Ordinarily, it would be hard to see the holes of a woman squatting to evacuate on the ground, their delicious parts naturally hidden by their own bodies. But the platforms combined with their heels brought their asses up by a foot or so. He still couldn’t see their assholes, but once they began defecating, the stools dropping from their asses would become perfectly visible. What’s more was that each of the platforms was 2ft (0.6m) apart. This meant that the women’s legs were spread far apart, naturally gaping their pussy lips and leaving the gap between the cheeks of their bottom wide open.

“Alright, now, go,” said Parker.

There was a silent beat. Going to the bathroom in public would be humiliating, and going in front of a man was worse. Going in a shallow tray while squatting on raised platforms was a bridge too far. Their bodies wouldn’t cooperate. Not yet. So Parker unholstered his shock baton.

Seeing Officer Parker ready to cause injury was all it took for most of them. They had been holding their bladders and bowels for hours, with the exception of Minoko, who’d had some relief on the bus. Parker wore a satisfied smile as he heard the music of women pissing against chrome. He saw five streams before him and turned back to see several streams behind him. Marcy hid her face in her hands as she farted and pushed some turds into the crevasse in the floor. Parker sighed with satisfaction. He would teach her to keep her face fully exposed later. For new girls, this behavior was acceptable.

One holdout was Minoko. Parker pointed his baton at her, “What’s the problem, 11204?” referencing her newly tattooed id.

Red-faced and stuttering, Minoko explained, “I- I- already peed. I peed my pants. On the bus.” He walked to the back row and waited, noticing that even she let a few drops fall from her handsome bottom.

He walked past a young blue-eyed girl who was sweating, grunting and dropping a massive dump. Thick sausages flowed from her rectum and curled into the pan, rising above the pan and almost flowing onto the floor. Instead, the soft brown pile rose higher and higher, approaching the bottom of her asscheeks.

“Now, there’s no way 11211 doesn’t do anal!” said Parker, marveling at her large output. “Well, you all do anal now. As they say, ‘In prison, every girl becomes a four-hole girl.’” The girls didn’t understand what that meant yet.

Parker finally came to Rain, who was the leftmost girl on the back row. Her pan was still dry. “What’s the matter, 11201? You shy?” he asked.

Rain hadn’t used the public girl toilets and fountains the government had been installing in major cities. Instead of a typical male restroom, which were located in private, gender-separated rooms and had individual stalls for privacy, these were located in public, mixed-gender areas. For example, toilets had been installed in hallways, lobbies, and on the outside of buildings. They had even created “girl fountains”, which looked like typical outdoor fountains in garden areas, but had seats for women’s bare butts, and a flushing functionality to remove the foul-smelling girl excrement. These changes were done in concert with removing women’s restrooms, freeing up useful building space for larger men’s rooms or for storage. In effect, at more and more locations, even in private homes, women were forced women to evacuate where their friends, families, and coworkers could watch them excrete their wastes.

Rain had been a shy pooper even before the Act, and avoided using the new public toilets in favor of the one at her home. As a college student, she had plenty of breaks between classes to head home, where she shared an old-style house with other women. Sharing that single-capacity bathroom with three other young women had been inconvenient enough. She hated stinking up the bathroom right before one of her roommates had to use the toilet. To prevent them from even hearing her sloppy defecation, she would run the faucet. She was constantly afraid of her own stink and the noise it made.

So punishment or no, there was no way Rain was relieving herself in front of this man. The concept was mortifying, even more humiliating than standing before him buck naked. And there was no way for him to prove she had to pee. She didn’t know if she could poop or not, but it wasn’t a question she felt like answering. She would defy the men at any turn, if she could.

“I already went,” lied Rain, after a moment.

Parker wasn’t convinced. “Oh 11201,…” said Parker, shaking his head. “The feminazi.” Rain brustled at the offensive term. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” Rain said nothing, not wanting to get in further trouble than she already was, but still determined not to urinate in front of Parker or any other men. For the fifth time that day, she felt a painful piercing of her skin from the stun baton. Rain cried out and fell over on the floor. She inadvertently let loose a furious torrent of piss between her legs, mostly missing the toilet.

“Yep, you definitely had to go,” noticed Parker, holstering his baton. “Hm, gonna have to watch this one.” Rain gathered herself, sat upright, and let the rest of her piss go into the commode, her face red with embarrassment.

Parker admired the view of ten girls shitting and pissing into their stainless steel toilets. Before the Freeuse Act, he had only seen such sights through Internet porn. Now every day he got to see multiple girls take humiliating dumps while he supervised. The smell was godawful. It smelt like a septic system in Hell. But the sights and sounds were lovely to behold. The crackling of a thick stool unfurling from well-defined buttocks. The wet slap of moist turds hitting the pan. And the symphony of female grunting never failed to get him half-erect.

True, these were just ten normal girls. Some of them a bit older and some a little fatter. In time, this group would become better as the fat girls were forced to lose weight and the older ones were inevitably culled. The future was going to be bright.

When the girls were finished, Parker stepped on a button on the floor and the bottom of the pans dropped, each revealing a hole. Tiny unnoticeable spouts streamed water into the pan, pushing their leavings out of the pan and down to the sewer. After flushing, the toilets closed back up.


After using the facilities, Parker took the girls to the yard. The yard was a large circular area with a large open roof where the women could exercise and get some sun. It was almost 6am, and the sky was a light blue. The women filtered into the yard, but Parker stopped Rain before she could go through the doors.

“Hold up, 11201,” said Parker, standing in the doorway.” I need you to suck my dick real quick. I only have a ten minute break, so make it fast.”

Rain faced him with an angry grimace. “You put anything in my mouth and I’ll bite down,” she spat.

Parker cocked his head. “Well, fine if you want to lose each one of your teeth and then both your eyes,” he threatened between gritted teeth. “...But maybe you’ll listen to an older, wiser girl. 9660, come over here!” A blonde girl who appeared to be about fifty jogged over to Parker. Unlike the new inmates, her head had about a month’s worth of stubble, so it was clear she was a nearly-platinum blonde. She had a few wrinkles, but her body was still hot and fit. Upon closer inspection, she appeared to be missing her nipples.

“Sir?” Gemma (9660) asked.

“9660,” said softly Parker, motioning to Rain, “this girl just refused to suck my dick.”

Rain wasn’t sure how she expected Gemma to act, but she definitely didn’t think that Gemma would slap Rain across the face, hard. Rain fell to the floor, shocked.

“Do what he says, you stupid bitch!” said Gemma, standing over Rain. “You’re gonna make it hard for all of us in here!”

“Thank you, 9660,” said Parker, pulling Gemma back. “Now, 9660, I’m gonna fuck you instead.”

Gemma immediately turned around, showing her still taut buttocks to Parker and Rain, and leaned against the wall of the doorway.

“Up the ass,” added Parker.

Gemma bent all the way over and spread her buttocks, revealing a soft-looking, pucked brown hole. It pulsated as she winked it at him.

“Actually, I want a blowjob.”

Gemma turned around, dropped to her knees and, looking into his eyes to make sure she had permission, began unbuckling his belt. She undid his fly, pulled out his soft, thick penis, and took it all into her mouth. Crossing her arms behind her back, Gemma dipped her head as she sucked and sucked on Parker’s dick. Rain, still on the ground, looked on in disgust.

“As you can see,” Parker spoke, turning to Rain, “9660 is a perfectly behaved slut. Exemplary in every way. Useful as a wet hole, and as a teacher of young cunts. That’s enough, 9660.” Gemma backed away, still on her knees.

Parker didn’t even put his dick away. With a mildly hard but not fully erect penis hanging out of his pants, he pulled a knife from his holster and slit Gemma’s throat ear-to-ear. Gemma fell to the ground, gasping and choking blood, her hands unable to keep it all in. Rain screamed and backed futilely into the door jamb. “Jesus… Jesus Christ!” she said. Parker looked her directly in the eyes.

“We have so many inmates here, we are way over capacity, 11201!” he shouted. “Do you want to die, 11201? Because you do not have many chances left!” Rain was panicking, seeing this man casually discard a woman’s life as if she were a piece of garbage. Gemma was still struggling, clawing desperately at the door with bloody fingers. Now the man who had performed this callous act was yelling at her. Her wide eyes filled up with tears.

“Suck my dick, 11201!” Parker still had the bloody knife in hand. Rain sat up, shaking and crying, but trying to hold it in. “Now!”

Rain awkwardly opened her lips as if she had never had a dick in it before, opening it just wide enough to let his meat inside her mouth. Trying her best to ignore the horror she had witnessed, she bobbed her head and sucked off Parker. Focus on the dick, focus on the dick, she thought. It wasn’t hard when she thought of the hard cock in her mouth as a disembodied penis. Not connected to anyone evil. Not capable of violence. It was clear her life depended on pleasing the dick, and she’d done that plenty in her time. This was just one more. While she had previously bragged to friends that she would fight a rapist to her own death, the real fear of imminent death dissolved these thoughts like dust in the wind. She licked and sucked Parker’s cock, blocking out his patronizing “attagirl”s. She couldn’t hear him. She wasn’t even aware of her own crying. All she knew was she needed to suck this dick.

After a short while, he started to cum in her mouth. She tried to back off of his cock, but Parker held her head down, sputtering his sauce down her reluctant throat. Rain initially tried to resist, but, having just witnessed what happened to Gemma, she relaxed and let him abuse her mouth and throat as he wished. Now was not the time to fight.

There were a lot of women in the yard. Each spot against the wall and all the benches were completely full now that all the residents of the prison had entered the yard, and there were plenty of women standing and squatting in open spaces. Rain spat the remnents of Parker’s cum on the ground and sat near a group of young women. She was tired, hungry, disgusted, and still crying a little bit. So she didn’t know how to respond when one of the women looked back at her and asked, “Did you just spit on me?”

Rain was taken aback. That’s right, she was in prison. Some girls were going to try to act tough. Rain didn’t know if she had gotten spit on the girl or not, but defended herself nevertheless. “No, I spit on the ground. I was nowhere near you.”

“I’m just fucking with you,” said the woman. “My name’s Rosa. You new?” She was a gorgeous Latina in her early twenties with cute brown nipples and immaculate makeup that gave her a dark, almost gothic eyes. She didn’t have a flat stomach, but she also had thick thighs and a seemingly nice round bum. By the level of hair on her head, she had been here at least a few weeks.

Relieved, Rain wiped her tears and forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m Rain.”

“Nice to meet you, Rain,” said Rosa (3072). Rosa studied her face. “You just suck off one of the guards?”

It was obvious that Rain had. Her mascara was running from choking on Parker’s cock, she had been spitting, and probably still had cum on her lips. She was ashamed, but there was no way she could deny it. “Yeah,” she said quietly.

“You one of those lay-back, pick-me bitches?”

“No,” said Rain, wiping tears. “I’m a feminist. Fuck these sexist fascists.” Rain then showed off her right shoulder tattoo, which was a fist with the female symbol in it.

Rosa seemed impressed. “Good. You look tired. Lupe, give her your spot on the wall.” Another woman, begrudgingly moved from the wall, giving Rain a place to rest.

“Thanks!” She didn’t know if girls in prison were actually nice or if Rosa was setting her up for something, but she was going to take the generousity. Rain sat against the wall and took a nap.

Rosa wasn’t fucking with Rain. She felt the need to surround herself with women who cared about other women. Women who knew how to organize. She herself had been in prison since before the Freeuse Act. She had, after all, stabbed someone, committing assault with a deadly weapon. So she had a deep crew of girls who were tight with her. But when it came down to it, she didn’t think she could depend on them against these men. They would lay on their backs and let men fuck them to get a slightly cushier position in the prison.

Rosa was different. While she had only looked out for herself and her crew previously, when the prison changed, she changed. She had always hated men, especially the COs of this prison who would cop a feel and trade sex favors way before it was legal to do so. Now that all of this was legal, every girl in the prison was her homegirl, as far as she was concerned. She would build a movement, prisoners or no. Rain was just another one of her recruits.

Officer Brown pointed to Rosa. “You,” he said. What did they want now?

Rosa and three other girls walked towards Brown. It appears they had all been randomly selected to perform some task, maybe sex. This was typical.

The girls were disturbed but not shocked as Brown showed them Gemma’s fresh corpse. They’d seen many a dead girl and Officer Parker, who had been at the door to the yard only moments before was notorious for setting an example. “You two, take the body to the morgue,” said Brown. He then pointed to the tall skinny brunette. “You, get a mop from Utility and mop this up. I’ll know if any of you deviate from your instructions.” Looking at Rosa, he commanded, “You stay here.”

The girls with the job to move the corpse hesitated. While they’d seen many a dead girl, this was the first time either of them had been asked to touch a dead body. They had performed similarly grotesque tasks for the pleasure of the men, so when Brown raised their voice, they quickly swallowed their disgust and picked up Gemma’s body. The other girl went off to get a mop, leaving Rosa alone with Brown. She didn’t feel the need to ask what her task was. Rosa knew Officer Brown would tell her.

“3072, lean up against the wall. I’m gonna fuck you up the ass.” He held his hands on his belt, waiting for her to submit before he disrobed.

Rosa squared her jaw and sighed. She had a wonderfully round behind, so it wasn’t a surprise that Brown wanted to fuck her butt, but she would’ve preferred any other task—even carrying a dead woman to the morgue. She hadn’t been fucked by Brown before, so she thought she might try to coax some mercy out of him.

“I’m a lesbian, you know,” said Rosa softly, finding a spot on the wall far enough from the pool of Gemma’s blood and leaning against it. It was true. She was a lesbian and hated being touched by men. Still, she spread her legs and braced for the inevitable. Hope for the best, but expect the worst in men.

Brown spit on his dick and jerked it a bit to prepare for her. “I don’t need your life story,” he commented, and pressed his head against her brown anus.

Rosa had been bracing, but despite all the dicks she’d taken up her ass lately, a barely-lubed dick still hurt going up her poop chute. She looked back at Brown. “It’s not-unghhh… my life story. I just want you to know-”

“If you say another word, I’m gonna beat you unconscious,” threatened Brown as he filled her bowels. Rosa faced the wall and shut her mouth.

Girls like her just didn’t get it. There was no such thing as a lesbian anymore. All girls were bisexual. They all fucked both men and girls, whenever men demanded. Their preferences didn’t matter. Their feelings didn’t matter. As long as they obeyed every single command from a man, they could fuck whoever they wanted in their free time. As for now, it was Brown’s turn to use her.


As he reached the hilt in her bottom, several other officers approached Brown.

“Hey, get this guys, this girl says she’s a lesbian,” he joked, as he began pumping Rosa’s ass.

“Nice,” laughed Officer Johnston.

“Good,” said Officer Selnick. “You’re fixing it.” Selnick refused to use she/her pronouns for women. Girls were objects and should be referred to as such.

Rosa patiently stood in silence. She was used to enduring their insults.

“So, Jimmy, we’ve gotta talk about Parker,” said Selnick as a girl began mopping up the pool of blood nearby.

“Yeah,” agreed Johnston. “I know we’re overcrowded and she was old. But, old or not, 9660 was one well-behaved bitch. I fucked her a few times and she was solid.” Brown nodded, maintaining a slow pace of humping.

“We can’t just ignore his constant …culling of our prisoners,” said Selnick. “You know what I mean?”

“It’s becoming a problem,” piped up Johnston.

Brown stopped sodomizing Rosa for a moment. This was a serious discussion.

“What do you wanna do?” asked Brown. His dick was still pulsating in Rosa’s guts. Brown was reluctant to pull out unless he had to.

“Claudio and I think we should make sure other officers sign off before you kill an inmate,” Selnick said. “Before you can kill it, you’ll need a quorum of two, maybe three officers.”

Brown jutted out his lower lip as he contemplated. “Sounds reasonable.” He continued fucking Rosa, as this apparently wasn’t going to be that difficult of a conversation. Rosa just moaned and groaned with Brown’s renewed vigor.

“Good,” nodded Selnick. “We’ll talk to the captain.”

Brown nodded, and focused on sodomizing Rosa. After he shot a load up her ass, he would have her suck the shit off his cock. That was actually his favorite part of anal. Making women taste their own anal juices, knowing that any disgust they harbored was caused by their own hygiene. Tasting their own shit was a way to make a woman abase herself. And women were easier to break when they were low.

Meanwhile, Selnick and Johnston walked to Captain Baumgartner’s office. On the way, they saw Officer Ryan disciplining four women. The four nude women stood at what was commonly called attention in the prison, although it would be closer to “at ease” within the military. They stood straight up, chest out, legs spread shoulder width, their arms folded behind their backs. Their heads were pivoted slightly down, with eyes on the ground.

“Eyes on the fucking ground, 7055!” reminded Ryan. Ryan signaled to Selnick and Johnston. “Eyes down, 8001!” Selnick mentioned he had to go to the captain’s office, but Johnston stayed, always eager to help discipline girls.

“You girls disgust me,” said Ryan. “Not just physically…” He turned to Crystal (8003), and approached her face so closely she could feel his spittle when he spoke. “Like 8003, you fat fucking cunt...” He moved on. “But also professionally. I’m responsible for all of Sector K, and you four are, by far, my worst girls. And if you don’t stop looking at me, 8001, I will carve your eyes out!” A timid Gennifer (8001) fixed her eyes on the ground. “8003 clearly isn’t doing her exercises, 8001’s cunt smell’s like a latrine, 7055 doesn’t obey commands, and 9090 just wants to get killed I guess.” He turned to Nina (9090). “You’re an ugly cunt who can’t apply makeup, and you give blowjobs like you hate them instead of like your life depends on it. Because—newsflash—it does. Now before we get really into your punishments, I’m going to give you all a disciplinary fucking, something you all need to improve at. With the help of Johnston here.” Ryan turned to Johnston. “Can you rape some sense into these bitches?”

Ryan turned back to 9090. “Now you’re gonna suck my dick and give the best head of your life or I’m going to go ass-to-mouth with you. Do you know what that means?”

Nina responded sullenly, “It-it means you’re gonna fuck my-”

“I didn’t say speak,” said Ryan. Nina shut up. “It means that if you fuck up, I’m going to take my knife and slit you open, starting with your asshole, and going all the way up…” he trailed a finger across her belly, “to your mouth. Understand me?”

The next three girls tried not to show their terror as Johnston looked over them. He looked at Crystal and Crystal, seeing his eyes directed her way, gulped.

Crystal wasn’t even that fat, she felt. She had lost 30 pounds (13kg) since intake. While she wasn’t as skinny as these other starving girls in prison, she was making progress, and only had a little belly. She was frustrated that Ryan didn’t see her progress. She wasn’t like the really fat women. The truly fat women had been killed off early. She hoped Ryan didn’t kill her.

“8003, you jog in place. 7055, put both of your arms up like a ‘T’. Good. 8001, spread your legs.”

Gennifer also felt that she had been unfairly called out. Her pussy smelled fine to her. She hadn’t been able to wash her ass lately, and that was because of men had been giving her chores and fucking her during the time she usually would shower. She had also shit herself one of the mornings of last week, unable to hold her bowels until she was taken to morning toilet relief. Those were issues caused by the men, not her own hygiene routines.

Johnston squatted down and sniffed her pussy. It was not awful, but had the rankness of a woman who hadn’t showered in a few days. He stood and told her, “you smell.”

Gennifer bit her lip bitterly. It wasn’t her fault she was so attractive that men wouldn’t give her time to shower. As a freckled redhead with a fat bottom, she got a lot of attention from the correctional officers. But she knew she couldn’t say that. That would just piss off this officer.

“You two, keep at it,” said Johnston pointing at the jogging Crystal and eagle-winged Astrid (7055). “8001, come with me.” Gennifer looked back at her friend Crystal with sad eyes and followed Johnston. Going somewhere with an officer could mean death.

Instead, Johnston merely took Gennifer to the showers. Instead of letting her shower, he pulled out a water hose and hosed her down. Gennifer (8001) yelped and cried out with the cold water hitting her nude body hard like sleet. She slipped in her heels and fell to the ground. Johnston continued hosing her down, paying special attention to her ass and pussy. It felt like knives when he put the nozzle up close. He turned off the water, molested the folds of her pussy, and smelled his fingers. “Better,” he said.

8001 remained splayed on her belly on the shower floor, waiting for his next command. Johnston slid his hand down her backside, reaching her little pink asshole and sliding a ring finger into it. Water wasn’t very lubricating, but it would be all that she would get. He fingered her ass a little, then laid atop her, unbuckling his belt.

8001 felt Johnston’s mouth on her neck. Kissing, licking, lightly biting. She hated that it slightly turned her on. She had been fucked almost daily, often multiple times a day for the last couple of weeks, but this kind of attention was new. Usually the men just fingered her or licked her long enough to get hard, fucked her in one of her holes, and came. Sometimes they just stuck it in her, with no warm-up. Johnston was now kissing her neck, face, and shoulder with a tenderness that sparked a warmth in her loins. She hated it, but couldn’t deny it was a nice change of pace. She even hummed a moan. He soon pressed his erection against her asshole. There it was. Her foreplay was over.

Men like Officer Ryan often invited other officers, like Johnston, to participate in their punishment. Sometimes they invited them to fuck inmates with no pretense of disclipine. While the officers were often young men who were all to eager to rape as many inmates as they pleased, they were still human, and simply couldn’t fuck all day for weeks in a row. They often required the help of their coworkers, so that the work of raping girls could be distributed evenly. So while the Freeuse Act had only passed a month ago, and the horniest American men still had decades of chivalry and restraint to make up for; even they could only spend their libidos so much before falling into physical exhaustion. They needed every man to help out.

The Freeuse Act. It had been a glorious miracle: finally passing after months of heavy deliberation in Congress, with even some support from girl politicians. Before that preceded centuries of sanctimonious puritanism. From at least the 20th century girls had been treated as equals—even superiors—to men, given every legal right that a man had. Given special treatment. And for centuries prior, while girls were not treated equally, rape had still been considered unethical and illegal in America and abroad.

For a man to lay with a girl, he had to marry her and, ideally, sleep only with his wife. While casual sex became the norm in the 20th and 21st centuries, it still required a man to date the girl. Woo her, ask her out, wine and dine her endlessly—usually over multiple dates—until she eventually gave her so-called consent and invited the man to partake of her body. And at any point she could always say no, as if her comfort was worth more than a man’s. Rejection was the norm, with most American men sleeping with only 15 or fewer girls during his entire lifetime.

No thought was given to men’s immediate needs to fulfill their biological necessities. This was considered a luxury, only to be fulfilled with full consent of the woman. There was no national conversation on the dire circumstances of millions of involuntary celibates, horny husbands, victims of teases, and otherwise law-abiding rapists. Their libidos remained neutered and ignored. Almost every single man lived quiet lives of desperation as girls and their bouncing breasts and enticing buttocks walked among them, unmolested, for fear of ostracism and legal consequences. All in the name of “fairness.” Those were the dark times.

But today, Officer Tyrone Johnston sated his sexual needs by sodomizing 8001 in the showers. It was his second girl of the day. He hadn’t wooed 8001 with poetry or bought her flowers. He had simply taken what he needed. He had taken what he was owed.

“Umph, uhnhh,” whimpered 8001, Johnston’s conquering dick thrusting in and out of her anal canal. Johnston slid his hand down he back to her neck, then cupped her throat and squeezed it, choking her whimpers. It pleased him greatly to turn his sexual excursions into struggles. After some time, 8001 tapped his fist and choked out “Stop.” He loosened his grip enough to let her survive.

“This isn’t a rape, you know,” he murmured into her ear, steadily stirring her guts. He gave her some time to object, if only mentally, then continued. “Rape, as sociologists say, is about power. I was commanded to rape by a superior officer and thus have no power. So this cannot be called rape.”

If 8001 objected to his logic, she didn’t show it. She merely lay on the floor, sweating and grunting as he struggle-fucked her shithole. She looked back, biting her lip, then said quietly, “You have power over me.”

Johnston stopped mid-stride. “Not at the moment. If either one of us resists, we get punished.” Johnston wiped his brow, staring at 8001 in mock sympathy.

8001 hadn’t been punished for her little outburst, so she continued. “He’s gone now. You could stop and he’d never know.”

Johnston squared his jaw as he thought to himself. He resumed slowly fucking her and 8001 winced. She resumed staring ahead, probably so he couldn’t see her grimacing. “I suppose I do... enjoy the power as well, but it’s because I find it... sexy. It makes me hard. If this is a rape, rape is about sex.” 8001 gave no response.

A month or so ago this would have been considered a rape by the government. This officer would have been tried for his crime of wanting to satisfy his libido. The very concept of masculinity was criminalized. Even evaluating her body quietly to himself was considered objectification and unethical under any circumstances.

But now, it was just a Tuesday. Men taking advantage of their birthright, having previously been called “rape”, was now encouraged. In fact, some of the men who had been tried and convicted of rape had been set free. As it turns out, theirs had been a victimless crime all along. The government retroactively recognized this.

As Johnston grew close, 8001 began to object. “Please, sir, I need lube!” she whined.

All this time in prison and all she does is whine whine whine, thought Johnston. Regardless of her situation, Johnston was about to cum, so she would receive no respite. He jackhammered her shitter and, despite her pleas, her pink ring squeezed tight around his cock. 8001 finally felt relief as she felt him spraying her lower colon. Her torment would be over soon.

Johnston gave a few more weak thrusts and withdrew from her fat bottom, slapping it hard for good measure. He had her stand and follow him back to the group.

Feeling cum and possibly other substances leak from her rectum, 8001 spoke up. “Sir, can I please shower? I-”

Johnston slapped her hard across the face and told her to shut up. 8001 smelled of anal sex and she knew Officer Ryan would be displeased.

“There you are, Johnston! I was worried you fell inside Swamp-ass over there,” said Ryan, gesturing to 8001 (Gennifer). The three girls were back at attention, Nina with a fresh load of cum on her face and Astrid with her arms down, but with Crystal still running in place, stopping every few seconds to catch her breath. Johnston gave a wry smirk to Ryan and told Crystal she could stop running.

“Actually,” said Ryan, “If you don’t mind, Johnston, I’d rather she continue. Porker needs to lose that last 15 or so.”

“Same to you,” muttered Crystal (8003) under her breath. It was true: Ryan was a fat man. But it was a death sentence to insult a man in this day and age, especially as a prisoner. Her eyes went wide with horror as she realized the men heard her, and she resumed jogging in place with her eyes down.

Ryan didn’t react immediately. He was too shocked to consider a woman would talk back. After a moment of confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. “8003, what the fuck did you say?” said Ryan, taken aback.

“I’m sorry, sir! I said nothing!” she panicked, stopping her jog and cringing at his impending reaction. Ryan withdrew his baton angrily, growing fiercely red, but stopped himself. He turned to Johnston. “Take her to the Machine! It’s time we made a four-hole girl out of this one,” he smiled.

Johnston really didn’t feel obeying another command from Ryan, but he did enjoy watching girls experience the Machine for the first time.

“Can do,” said Johnston, grabbing Crystal by the arm.


Johnston didn’t see what the big deal was. 8003 (Crystal) was not skinny, but she was the perfect size, in his opinion. 8003 was a gorgeous girl with high cheekbones. She had a bit of a tummy, but most of her weight was in her round hips and fat ass. She carried her weight well, with fat tits and large areolas to boot. She looked immensely breedable. Even though he had just drained his dick in 8001, Johnston had half a mind to fuck 8003 now and see how her ass rippled when he clapped those cheeks. Ryan was crazy to think 8003 should lose any more weight.

Beautiful as she might or might not have been, Crystal was currently a nervous wreck. She didn’t know what the Machine was, but she knew it wasn’t good. She’s seen many a girl come back to general population after being in the Machine for a day or two, and they always appeared to have survived some unspeakable trauma. Her friend Fiona didn’t speak for a week after coming back from the Machine. Afterwards, Fiona was transferred to a new facility, so Crystal had no idea if she ever recovered.

She had tried apologizing and begging with Ryan. It seemed to have the opposite effect. Officer Ryan smiled greedily at her cries, gorging himself on her panicked apology until she was dragged away by Johnston.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked Officer Johnston. Johnston was silent. He just smiled and grabbed a handful of her ass as he guided her down to the basement. She came to a complete stop. “Wait, just tell me-” she started, before getting zapped by Johnston’s baton. A few million volts was enough to get her to complete her walk in silence.

Crystal didn’t understand the reason for all the secrecy. She supposed this was a tactic. If she didn’t know what she was walking into, she couldn’t steel herself for the torture, and possibly her death. She decided she would not be afraid. That was apparently what they wanted. She would not give it to them.

“We’re here.”

They had arrived at a nondescript door in the dim basement. It looked like an ordinary door in an office building. But she could hear soft cries of women beyond the door. This was it.

Next to the door was a bin of leather gear. Johnston pulled out a leather mask that might be used in BDSM. Like a gimp mask with no eyes, but a large gap for her nose and mouth. He told her not to move and pulled it over her head. Fearlessly, she stood straight as her world became black. She heard the door open and they walked in.

Inside the room, it became clear that there were dozens of women crying, screaming, and whimpering, but it was not loud because their mouths were muffled. Along with this sound was the sound of vibrating machines, like a hundred vibrators at various speeds. Optimistically, Crystal considered maybe she would simply be forced to sit on a vibrator for a while.

“Okay, 8003, sit on this table.”

Crystal was guided to a table about waist height, where she could sit. Johnston had her lie down. The magnets in her arm and leg bands activated and she was bound to the table, unable to move. This was when the table began to split open like a St. Andrews Cross, or X-shaped table. Her arms were raised all the way and her legs were split wide so she formed an X. Unable to contain her fear, she began pissing herself. Her fear had gotten the better of her. The warm fluid dribbled on the floor and she heard a snicker. It was utterly humiliating that he had visible proof of how scared she was.

This is when Johnston (or someone) began attaching devices. Some sort of metal plate was fixed around her mouth, a few centimeters away so as not to impede her breathing. Another device was attached at her pelvis, but loosely. It felt like large metal underwear. Loose clips were attached to her nipples. The cold bothered her, but they were not painful. Lastly, a nose hook was installed in her nostrils. “Hunh!” she gasped at the odd sensation. But so far, no pain. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

“See you tomorrow,” said Officer Johnston. That was the last thing she heard before a machine hummed and her ear canal was filled with some sort of plugs. She could no longer hear the other women and machines. Blind and deaf, she was oblivious to the outside world. All Crystal could hear was her own breathing and the whirring of her own Machine.

She felt the probing of her vulva with a metal object projecting from her metal underwear. It reached her clitoris and stopped, which caused her some concern. But so far she was in no pain. She knew it wouldn’t likely last.

It didn’t. The nose hook pulled tight at the same time as the nipple clamps tightened around her soft buds, and finally her clitoris was pinched between some sort of clamp. Crystal screamed and a plastic phallus slid into her mouth. Lubed dildos simultaneously slid quickly into her pussy, asshole and urethra. Having been fucked up the ass before, Crystal’s shock was solely borne by the foreign sensation of something cold and hard going up her pee hole. Her scream modulated to a higher key at this creative new torture. Of course, her mouth was muffled by the dildo in her mouth. All of the dildos withdrew from her four orifices and she was left panting and shaking. Her nipples and clitoris remained clamped with incredible pressure, but she was given a brief respite from penetration for a few moments. Crystal stopped her screaming, but knew her torment had only begun.

A few seconds later the four dildos slowly entered each of her four orifices. She whined and squeezed out some tears as each dildo eventually hit its maximum depth. Her pussy dildo was pressed nearly against her cervix, her anal intruder probed deep in her bowels, the phallus in her mouth was almost entering her throat, and, as a virgin to sounding, the dildo filling her urethra felt impossibly deep. She couldn’t tell if it was millimeters deep or several inches deep. It was a foreign torture either way.

Then, instead of withdrawing like before, they began to pump, outwards then inwards in her four holes. She was being fucked by a machine in four ways at the same time. More than double penetration or even getting airtight, she was now a four-hole girl. Her mouth gag hardened around her teeth so she couldn’t obstruct the oral dildo. With her mouth forced open, she had no way to prevent this mechanical rape. As much as she tried to squeeze her pelvis, the other three dildos continued fucking her with gusto. Crystal felt like she might be pissing again, she couldn’t tell. She screamed and wriggled, but had almost no room to maneuver.

The blindfold and earplugs only made the torture worse. She couldn’t see when the dildos would move forward, nor could she sense the torture of others. She was all alone in her own little world, being fucked mercilessly in a way that not even a group of men could replicate. For torture this extreme, robotics were required.

The dildos drilled deeper with every thrust; the anal dildo hitting the curve of her bowels, and the oral dildo deep-throating her face. As she tried to scream “Stop! Stop!” she noticed a new sensation, her body was rotating from flat on the table towards an upright position. Every new sensation was a chance for a new method of torture, so she wriggled harder in her bonds, knowing something bad was coming. The thrusting dildos moved along with her body, but the nipple and clit clamps stayed in place. Those clamps were what hurt every time she attempted to twist her body. Crystal felt new bindings grow along her elbows and knees, holding her more firmly in place.

Soon she was completely upright, as if she was standing, the four dildos still pumping in and out of her body. And then… a drop. Crystal felt herself completely submerged in water, or some other liquid. If she found breathing difficult with the deep-throating dildo, it was now physically impossible. Yet the dildos continued humping her body, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was now drowning.

Seconds passed like hours as she was raped underwater in her four holes. And before she could pass out, she was flung upwards out of the water. Crystal gasped and sputtered back to life. The oral dildo had stopped deep-throating her, allowing her an opportunity to breathe. Her mouth was empty except for the ring gag keeping her mouth open.

“Enough, enough,” begged Crystal. Her words would sound more like “Anaag, Anaag” to anyone nearby.

But no one was there. Johnston had gone back to work. And soon, the oral dildo resumed plunging her throat. All four devices continued pummeling her, siphoning her energy and will. They all stopped simultaneously and then each dildo changed its rhythm. The clamps on her nipples and clit, while already painful, wracked her body with a brief electric shock. All her senses were screaming in pain, and her mind was in chaos. She was in Hell. This was what it meant to be a four-hole girl.


A day had passed. Rain had spent the night crammed into a tiny cell, squeezed between dozens of nude women. One of the women next to her had drooled on her. Space was scarce in women’s penitentiaries, even with the government building new ones as fast as they could. This was another reason that prisoners were seen as expendable. Only one month had passed and tens of thousands of women had been killed for failure to submit to the new order; most of them were female prisoners.

This lack of space had led to Rain sleeping very poorly. She sat up, bleary-eyed, as the sunlight crept into her cell until a correctional officer came to let the women out. Despite her sleepiness, she was happy get up from her spot on the wet concrete. Evidently, one of the women couldn’t hold her bladder all night and had soaked a good portion of the cell.

“Alright, turds,” said Officer Montgomery. “Time to hit the head and the showers so you can do the three S’s: shit, shower, and shave. Single file, y’all.” The man led the twenty women to the facilities. These sets of toilets looked much like the ones Rain had seen after intake. Except that given by the toilet lips and helpful arrows on the ground, she could that the two rows of toilets were facing away from each other.

“Okay, the first five take the commodes on the right. Next five take the toilets on the left.” The women didn’t need instructions on where to stand and when to squat. They each placed a heeled foot on each pillar, squatted, and evacuated. Rain took the last toilet on the left.

Because of the architecture of this “bathroom,” Montgomery stood between two rows of butts. Arms folded behind his back, he slowly strode through the rows of butts, watching the piss and shit drop into the trays. Their fetid waste sat in the silver trays, like exotic fancy meals. He bent over to get a better view of their exposed quivering anuses. There was talk of making the pillars higher or building a trench for men to walk through, so as to make their assholes eye-level. For the time being, this was still a wonderful treat for Montgomery and other officers to feast their eyes on: not just one, but a group of nude women, shitting and pissing without a semblance of privacy.

“Lift your heads, cunts,” called Montgomery. The women were reminded not to stare at the floor. They lifted their chins as they pushed.

He finally came to Rain. She had peed quite a bit. She wished she could withhold this act from the men, but after a long night, she simply had to piss. And even if she held it, it seemed that she would eventually have to go in front of a man. Women were only allowed to use the restroom when accompanied by a man. The women who didn’t use the toilets would be forced to go at other inconvenient places; like in the yard, on the floor where they slept, or en route to some activity. Even in these times that the men weren’t watching, they were crowded together with dozens of women. A woman was never alone in prison, except when she was in the Machine. And no woman wanted to be in the Machine.

Some women would piss discretely in the shower, but even that was a difficult feat because of the short duration and low water pressure. And if found out, they were beaten more viciously than if they had pissed accidentally. It just wasn’t worth it to hold it. It was safest to poop and pee in the toilets.

Montgomery could see that Rain (11201) had peed a satisfactory amount. And yet, there was no poop in her pan.

“I heard about this one, 11201,” said Montgomery. “The shy pooper.”

Rain’s cheeks reddened. All of the women could hear him describe her defecation preferences. She sighed and relented. It was time to go. She felt the weight at the end of her colon and tried to push.

“It still thinks it’s special,” continued Montgomery. “That it’s not just like any other animal that shits on command and obeys its master.”

Rain’s colon wasn’t complying. She grunted hard and twisted up the corner of her lip as she pushed, “Nngh, nngh.”

“Well, it’s not special,” said Montgomery. “This animal is no different than my poodle at home, and it don’t get any more privacy than he does.” Montgomery grabbed Rain’s face with one hand, turned her face to his, and said, “Go for me, doggy.”

But she was as stuck as the turd in her guts. After holding it all day yesterday, it seemed that she was now constipated. She knew an explanation would fall on deaf ears, so she squeezed her eyes shut and pushed as hard as she could. “Nnnnngh! Nnnnngh! C’mon...” she went.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, eh?”

“No,” Rain finally spoke. “I just can’t go! I swear, I’m stopped up!”

“You was warned.” Montgomery turned to the other women and said “Trade places!” As the women who were finished excreting walked away from their messes, the next women in line took their places. “When you’re all done, I want every cunt standing in single file at attention!” Montgomery grabbed Rain by the arm and dragged a pleading Rain away. He was so angry he had forgotten to flush between sets of women. But at least the second set of women would be able to piss and shit privately, without the lascivious eyes of the officers.

“No! It’s not my fault! I swear I’m not intentionally holding it, just give me a minute,” pleaded Rain as she stumbled behind the officer.

“It says one more word and it gets the baton,” said Montgomery. He dragged her silently to the nearest Officer’s Lounge. Montgomery opened the door and tossed Rain in. She stumbled forward but caught herself before she fell.

The Officer’s Lounge was nice. There were one-way windows on both sides so the men could observe the women in the hallways as well as the women in the yard. There were couches and a fridge and a pool table. Several groups of men stopped their conversations at the sight of an inmate.

There was a silence. Rain was too terrified to speak, knowing something bad was coming. The men were disturbed at this interruption, until they realized it was someone most of them had heard about.

“The feminazi?” asked Officer Ryan.

“Why not take her to a rec room?” asked Officer Cortez. Recreation rooms had more space and supplies to deal with disobedient women.

“Nah, let’s do this here,” said Officer Parker, unholstering his baton. He shocked Rain and Cortez shrugged and did the same. Wracked with sudden electrical pain, Rain crumpled to the floor. Three other men joined in shocking Rain as she cried out and jerked like a dying cockroach.

“Sto-AAAhhh! StAAAAhhh! Stop! AAAaaah! Please!” she whined.

Montgomery thought that was a nice warm up, but now it was time to do some damage. He tightened his grip on his baton, and then brought it down on her body, landing on her right buttock. The other men smiled and followed his example in beating her down onto the kitchenette. Rain screamed as they broke her nude body against the white floor tiles. She rolled around, attempting to avoid the batons.

Montgomery noticed a thick, hard turd had descended a few inches out of her ass. “Oh, now it decides to go,” he said. But the black turd stayed stuck, descending no further.

Satisfied with how the beating was going, Montgomery picked up Rain by her head. The men stopped beating as Montgomery forced her head onto his unsheathed cock. Rain drunkenly mouthed at his cock. Dissatisfied with her attempt, Montgomery dropped her to the floor, where she coughed up some blood. “Fucking useless,” he said.

“Well, we fucked her up too much to suck cock,” laughed Parker. “You wanna fuck her?”

Montgomery mulled it over in his head. If she couldn’t suck his cock, he wouldn’t get hard enough to fuck her shitty ass. He didn’t really feel like fucking her pussy. If he was gonna fuck pussy, he’d rather fuck one of the prettier girls in his morning group. Thinking about the group, Montgomery decided he really needed to get back. It was bad to leave inmates unattended for too long.

“Nah,” said Montgomery. “Just take it to medical. We already beat the shit out of it. Literally.” The other officers laughed at his joke. Parker guffawed, belatedly seeing the turd halfway stuck in her.. “I gotta get back to my group.”

Montgomery left the room. The officers looked at one another.

“Fine,” said Parker. “I’ll take her. Get up, bitch.”

Rain looked up. It seemed that it was finally over. Like a newborn calf, she struggled over wobbly knees. One of her heels had fallen off. Parker ignored Rain’s walking troubles, and grabbed her arm and dragged her out, just as she had been dragged in. The dark stool that had been stuck in her anus finally fell on the floor of the kitchenette. She continued stumbling as Parker dragged her to Medical.

Along the way, Parker saw Stevens with a group of ten timid looking women standing awkwardly in their heels.

“New inmates?” asked Parker. Stevens nodded in confirmation.

“Feminazi still not acting right?” asked Stevens. Parker shrugged. Parker then looked at Stevens with a cruel smile. Reading his mind, Stevens sighed and nodded.

“Hello, ladies,” said Parker to Stevens’s group. “As you can see,” he gestured to Rain, who was bloody and breathing hard, “despite being given multiple chances, some girls still want to be disobedient. Such a young, pretty girl, too. She gave an average blowjob yesterday. I bet with a little training, she could suck dick with the best of them.” Parker pulled out a knife and the women shrieked as Parker slit Rain’s throat wide open. The rest of the contents of her bowels spilled on the floor.

“We’re over capacity,” yelled Parker over the terrified screams of the women. “We don’t have any tolerance for disobedience. So do what you’re told!” Rain gurgled blood and fell to the floor.

Kys freak people like you give incel a bad name
Not reading all that
Will probably read later tbh, freeuse stories can be quite interesting when they actually tr to explain how society became like that and why everything there is happening.

September 18, 2021- My longest story is now Utopia: Penitentiary, written exactly 14 years after Utopia 3. I had a lot of ideas, and I could've made this even longer, but I really ran out of steam at the end. I hope it doesn't show. I love that we now have an explanation of how the Utopia universe came to be, and that it's a mix of rape and freeuse. I put a lot of thought into how to maximize the humiliation and the eroticism of female toilets. I might update this later to tidy up the ending or expound more on the toilets.

Kek, based boyo:feelskek::feelskek:.
This is fucking gay. Only a woman would get turned on by this.
freeuse stories can be quite interesting when they actually tr to explain how society became like that and why everything there is happening.
The only freeuse I know is that one fetish.

Haven't read yet, but females will never protest the current order, if patriarchists took the reins of power, the females would foam at their mouths defending it. The females are always for the status quo - until it changes, they they're for the new status quo.
The only freeuse I know is that one fetish.

Haven't read yet, but females will never protest the current order, if patriarchists took the reins of power, the females would foam at their mouths defending it. The females are always for the status quo - until it changes, they they're for the new status quo.
Yeah, they’re incredibly herd-like, but despite that, a lot of times manage to convince themselves that they are fighting an uphill battle against the Powers That Be or whatever, even when they are only doing stuff the establishment fully supports:feelsugh::feelsugh:.
even when they are only doing stuff the establishment fully supports
See, I don't see the élites to be fully in control. Case in point - Harvey Weinstein. Was he punished by élites? Or by the toilets? I'd say, by neither of the two - instead, he got cucked by the Christian spirit of compassion gripping the West by the balls.
Neetmaxxed posting at its finest.
Copemaxxing is the key
Based and eroticamaxxed.
Nobody got time for that
This looks interesting…:feelshehe:
I'll read it later.:feelsjuice:
Read parts of beginning and end
I cummed most based thing I've read in a while
Should've had a part where the male feminist traitor gets his skin peeled off. Cucks r even worse than feminists
this is what inceldom does to a poor male
Tldr Follow your dreams of being a below par writer
Not a single letter.
eroticamaxxing is legit
I’m not reading all of that.
Bumping this for severe debilitating autism
Pramantis Pizza Planet is superior story
I’m sure the story is based, but my adhd and depression won’t allow me to even attempt to read this.
ohhhhh a high IQ post
saved, will read later!
Dnnatiobetmihtrtldnr (did not notification and thread is old but epedaphic tag means i have to reply therefore late did not read)
Dnnatiobetmihtrtldnr (did not notification and thread is old but epedaphic tag means i have to reply therefore late did not read)

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