The year was 2130 and technology had surpassed anything previously dreamed of. The government took care of everything and people were left to their own devices. Unfortunately, the radical feminists gained the upper hand.
Having so much leisure time produced a rapid change in society. With so many opportunities available, feminists simply stopped having babies, eventually producing a crisis as the population began to visibly decline.
The government initially fought back with information campaigns. Pregnant females became local media celebrities. ‘Breed me’ and ‘Have you had a cock today’ posters of seductive women with their legs open began to appear in public places. Contraception was banned and clothing manufacturers added labeling on women’s clothing claiming their range of underwear attracted cock.
“Make your boyfriend want to knock you up with our breeding range of panties for sluts. Easily pulled down, keeps stains visible, pussy juice absorbent material and fully lickable.”
Yet to no avail and the population decline continued. The problem was feminism with endless bleating’s and protests from hysterical cock starved females.
The breeding centers failed. A one-stop shop where women could choose from a choice of cocks to make them pregnant offering free sperm refills and tops ups and the government was forced to resort to harsher measures.
In an address to the nation, the British Prime Minister unveiled new legislation. This required all straight females between the ages of eighteen to their late thirties to register on a one-year compulsory national service contract as a slave to all straight males aged eighteen. Termed the S.L.U.T (Sex on Legs Use Them) programme, the government was sure it was the right answer.
The new legislation caused an uproar among many groups. Radical feminists complained they were being used and shouldn’t be whilst Trans women argued they weren’t being used and should be. Nevertheless, despite some early teething problems the programme was unrolled.
Sitting down at the breakfast table, David opened the envelope that had come in the morning post. It contained a small official-looking card with a number written on it telling him to pick up his slut from the local S.L.U.T government office.
“Oh look, Mum, number seventy-two, I’ve got my S.L.U.T number,” said David showing her the card.
“Well, let’s finish our breakfast and we’ll go and have a look at it,” replied Mum.
David and his parents entered the large hall. In the corner was a large group of women of all ages, shapes, and sizes. On their tops were printed their S.L.U.T number and the small crowd of parents and boys in front of them separated by a small barrier strained to see which one was theirs. One by one the waiting sluts were called up and given to their new masters.
“Look,” cried David excitedly and pointed. “That one there on the right, that’s mine.”
They all looked. Number seventy-two was plain and scrawny with a typically miserable feminist look on her face. As David’s father later remarked, she looked as though she preferred sucking a lemon than a cock. Aged twenty-three, her redeeming features were a small mouth and David’s father wondered if his cock would fit in it …
He was rudely awakened from his musings by a sharp prod of his wife’s elbow in his side as his eyes swivelled to look at a poster across the room.
“What are you staring at?” growled his wife.
“Eh, what? Look at that poster. What’s that you said my dear?” he asked innocently.
“Number seventy-two please,” shouted the official into his microphone and David stepped forward to claim his slut. Leading her back to his parents David asked her if she liked gaming. I’m at level sixty-three in City Strike he said proudly and you can look at my comic collection if you want. His slut gave him a puzzled look, tried to smile, and obediently nodded her head.
The slut settled into David’s bedroom sleeping in a bed in the corner of his room.
“I’m not having a slut sleeping in the same bed as my baby and corrupting him,” said his mother.
The very first night David felt a faint stirring in his cock as he watched her undress as she got ready for bed and noticed her panties had blood stains on them. She noticed him looking and said, “I’m on my period.” His face remained blank. “I’m bleeding, “she explained.
“Oh my God,” said David with a worried look on his face, “have you cut yourself? Can I get you a plaster or something?”
She sighed and shook her head. “No master, I’ll be fine,” she replied.
David’s problem was that he’d been given a radical feminist. Her droning voice about women’s rights and sexual exploitation irritated him and interfered with his gaming passion. “Will you please shut up?” he told her on several occasions.
He tried making her sit in the corner with her thumb in her mouth and even put a thick pillowcase over her head in an effort to drown out her constant bleating and complaining, but nothing worked for long.
“I’d rather lick a pussy,” she had once said to him in one of her long tirades against men, which David thought an odd thing to say. He knew people had fetishes, but it was the first time he’s heard a woman say she wanted to lick a cat. Yet not wanting to appear judgmental he decided not to pursue the matter any further.
Following a friend’s advice to put his cock in her mouth to shut her up, David motioned for his slut to kneel between his legs and took out his well-endowed cock and tried to concentrate on his computer game. He found the wet slurping noises his slut made a little distracting, but nice feelings followed as she worked her lips up and down his hard cock until finally he could concentrate no more and with a loud groan spurted gushes of cum down her throat. He listened to her gurgling and gulping and wondered if he should pat her back as it sounded like she was choking, but when he looked down at her she seemed to be enjoying it.
His computer game forgotten, David sank back in his chair breathing heavily as she greedily licked his cock clean. Raising her head, for the first time David saw his slut smiling.
“Now wasn’t that nice, master?” she asked. “I’ve never done that before,” she said fluttering her eyes at him and coughing as she licked her lips and swallowed the last of his cum trickling down her throat.
“You’ve got some sort of gooey white stuff on your face,” said David, “just there” he said pointing at her chin.
Unfortunately and despite numerous attempts, sucking his cock didn’t shut her up for long and finally David sought his father’s advice.
“There’s one thing left you can try,” he told his son. “Some say it’s an old wives tale and others say it’s a myth, but a long time ago it was considered good practice to empty your cock into a slut twice a day to keep them happy. It worked with your mum, only I’m getting older now and can only manage it once a day. You can see the difference. She has mood swings, gets grumpy and often becomes a pain in the backside.”
“Wow, Dad, that’s exactly what my slut is like,” said David.
“That’s because she isn’t getting any cock,” his father replied knowingly. “Tell her she’s sleeping with you tonight and you’re going to fuck her. Ask her to show you how to do it, she’ll know what to do, but remember, twice a day at the minimum.”
Clearing his throat, David’s father continued. “If that’s not enough maybe I can help, but you mustn’t tell your mum about this,” he added. He hoped David would take the hint in his voice.
That night David did what his father suggested. He could hear his slut moaning and whimpering beneath him. “I can stop if it’s hurting you,” he said with concern in his voice.
“Don’t you fucking dare stop,” she said between clenched lips as she approached her second orgasm.
This is even better than her mouth David thought and went at it like a rabbit.
The next morning David woke up to her sucking his cock. Twice a day he remembered and turning his giggling slut over on her back she received another load of his cum in her pussy.
The effect was instant. She stopped her bleating and whining about men and suddenly became interested in gaming, sitting on his lap and wriggling her bottom as she said it helped her concentrate. She also became fascinated with his comic book collection, looking at the pictures as he explained the storyline while her hand stoked his cock beneath his boxer shorts.
Everyone noticed a change in the slut. She smiled a lot more too, but some also noticed she was putting on a bit of weight, her breasts were getting bigger and small damp patches began to appear on the blouse around her nipples. Davis noticed too and enjoyed sucking her nipples and wondered why they produced the same kind of milk he put on his cereals at breakfast time.
Taking David to one side his concerned mum asked him, “Have you given your slut a baby?”
“No, Mum,” answered David. What a strange thing to ask him he thought. Where on earth would he get a baby from?
David’s mother sighed and shook her head. I knew this would happen she thought, as soon as we took in a slut I knew it. Meanwhile, his father’s face held an innocent expression, but on their trips to the shop and left alone with David’s slut, he’d also given it an occasional extra helping to add to her two-a-day recommended daily intake of cum.
Word spread, people talked, and David’s method of curing feminism and thereby increasing the population count spread. David and his now visibly pregnant slut became overnight media celebrities.
Posters began to appear of his slut with an obviously pregnant belly, wearing a short skirt and her panties pulled down to her knees. While next to her stood a sheepish-looking David with his erect cock in his hand. The posters carried slogans such as, ‘Just do it’ and ‘I’m lovin’ it.’
The S.L.U.T programme expanded rapidly with wannabe sluts flooding the conscription offices and the new girl band Sluts Allowed went to the top of the charts with their new catchy tune single ‘Breed us’ which rapidly became a favourite and everyone was singing or humming.
Open your legs sluts,
We’re pregnant and proud,
We love cum in our pussies,
We’re sluts allowed.
Thanks to David and his father’s advice the country was saved and the population boomed.
