The Pasture in Space - Revolution

Gwendolyn always read them.

"HOW HAVE YOU HELPED FEED US?"

"OVERSEER TYCHO IS WATCHING!"

"A FULL MEAL - AN EMPTY COCK - OBEY THE OVERSEER"

The last part was undeniably true. Perhaps that's why Gwendolyn paused, her eyes scanning over the red letters plastered over walls.

No other woman on Epsilon 7 would have dared deviate from their precisely planned route. Women were deliberately separated and segregated, with random changes to their schedule to avoid a rebellion before their selection. Sexual assault and rape became a tool to prevent these girls from focusing on anything else. But Gwendolyn had survived so long without an incident that the idea only existed in the back of her mind. In 18 rotations, she had managed to avoid all manner of sexual abuse.

No other woman, at least apart from Violet Nall, lived in such relative safety. And now, empowered as a milk maid, Gwendolyn forget her place in the rigid patriarchy. Absentmindedly, she continued down the hall, completely distracted by the events of this cycle.

As she walked oblivious to the danger, Gwendolyn mind wandered as she did. She considered her cows, her yields, and everything else under the illusion of security. She barely had time to scream as the hands closed around her, shoving her roughly against the wall. The two men ripped off her uniform, an ill-fitting, yet durable outfit designed for this very intention. They pressed her up against the wall, spreading her legs, opening up her hairless pussy.

Both men were almost emaciated, the only surviving part of their body was lean, grisly muscle used to puncture holes in fallow fields. The first man moved his hand down her legs, his fingers pulling apart her labia as he let out a breathy sigh.

"I'm a milk maid... " She managed.

One of the men shrugged at the other.

"Fresh cunt's worth the double shift," He said gruffly.

His friend, taller, with a long, scraggly beard held her arms above her head as Gwendolyn focused every fiber of her being on fighting. She kicked out her legs, only to have the smaller man catch them.

"Oh ho," The smaller man said. "She's still burning rocket fuel."

"I like 'em active," the second said. "That service girl they got up now, no fight left. Might well hump a hole in the ground. Likelier to find more life."

He taunted her as one hand moved over her breasts, pinching her nipples roughly as the other arm held her in place.

"Lookee here," the smaller man said. "Nipples are almost the size of those udders."

"They sure didn't breed you to pick 'em, Nasher," the other said. "Course she's small, otherwise she'd be feedin' us 'stead of us spending the day boiling in the sun while we shovel out her mutfruit."

"What do you say to that?" Nasher said, his breath reeking as his lips moved closer to her face. "I think she owes us a kiss."

"More than a kiss," the other man said.

His finger moved in between her lips, parting her pussy as he pushed his way violently inside of her. She let out another scream, not expecting anyone to come. Women were just as likely to bolt the other way, while other laborers would join in on the fun. Any other girl would have told Gwendolyn to keep quiet, to open her mouth and hope that one of the men would content himself with an enthusiastic blow job.

But Gwendolyn would not resign herself to this fate.

She only thrashed her body as the man removed her finger from her vagina. He pulled down his standard issue overalls, revealing a thick, mushroom headed cock that curved to one side. He reached back to grab the tight round ass, suspending her up in the air as he held her up by the bottom. Gwendolyn clawed at him, squirming against the big man holding her from behind, her hands futilely raking his chest as he inched his tool closer to the virginal part between her legs.

Near her face, the other man adjusted his grip, helping hold her up. Any second now, the strange laborer would be inside of her. She could feel the heat from his dick in between her legs. She twisted her hips, trying everything to deny the inevitable. Then Nasher moved his head, his lips closing in on Gwendolyn. She wasn't sure what possessed her; it was such a pitiful act of defiance. But she hawked back her neck, and in a gesture of impotent rage, hurled a gob of spit into Nasher's open mouth.

STOP!

Her head screamed the words, her brain feeling as though it would burst and propell out the scattered fragments of her skull. Every ounce of energy went into this single thought, a command ringing out from her central nervous system to be directed at another. Even with her legs spread, her naked body exposed only seconds away from being impaled by an unwelcome stranger, her mind still focused on this thought.

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the end of her virginity...

Only to jolt up again as she suddenly slipped out of the grasp of the taller man, who stood as nearly stupefied as Nasher.

The short man stopped even breathing, his hands dangling loosely as his sides. His expression vacant and unseeing. His friend rushed to side, letting Gwendolyn fall to the floor, while Nasher just stared blankly at the empty wall.

"Nasher!" The man snapped his fingers at his friend. "Nasher, get it together!

The taller man hit his friend on the shoulder, only to watch as the force from even such a small blow toppled the younger man. Gwendolyn seized her opportunity, attempting to run down the hallway, only to have the man grab her by the arm.

"What the fuck did you do? I'm going to-"

"You're going to return to work."

The voice was calm, steady, and feminine. As she stepped into the corridor, Violet Nall loomed even larger than this man, standing maybe as much as thirty centimeters taller than the laborer. Her long purple hair had been styled over her right shoulder, clinging over her right breast almost as if an insignia. Her dark eyes flashed a cold, acrimonious glare that seemed to throttle any argument.

The man froze, letting go of Gwendolyn as she scampered to stand naked behind her mistress, nearly clinging to her leg for protection.

"Mistress, I - Nasher, he, she..."

"I suggest you give a detailed report of your behavior to the foreman," Violet cut him off. "Do make sure it is accurate, to the best of your recollection. I would hate to make a special report to the Overseer."

At that, the man made his right hand into a fist, crossing it over his chest in a salute.

"Yes mistress, at once."

"That will be all," Violet said.

The man scampered down the hallway, only bothering to pull up his overalls when he was halfway out of sight.

She looked down at Gwendolyn, standing with one arm over her diminutive breasts, her other palm covering her pussy.

"We will need to speak, at once."

3

Violet sat behind the spartan metal desk in her quarters. This private room was certainly a luxury, though it doubled as an office where she regularly conducted her duties. Her legs reclined against the table, her hands crossed over those ample breasts in a demonstration of practiced repose. But she looked far from her relaxed, her dark eyes burning, her mouth formed into a mixture of a frown and a scowl. Gwendolyn stood in front of her somberly, trying to keep her eyes from tracing up her mentor's legs, where most of the skin up her thighs was on full display.

Her silence filled the room, forcing the younger girl to begin babbling.

"Mistress Nall, I apologize. I... I should have been more alert. I know, I know what risks you take to keep us and -"

"You know nothing of the sort," Violet said, waving her off. "Nor would I expect a milk maid to, even given your impressive figures for your first quarter. The politics of the overseer's council are deliberately obscured."

"I'm sorry, mistress, I didn't mean - " Gwendolyn continued.

"You can stop that now..."

"Mistress?"

"I find myself wanting to talk without interruption - even if it is to beg my forgiveness for an imagined violation."

Gwendolyn swallowed hard, sure that the next sentence would be a final judgment. She imagined herself with her wrists clamped down into cold restraints, with man after man taking turns with her used pussy until she learned a lesson about saying no. Or worse - immediately thrown through the airlock, unable to resist as the lustrous tendrils of the creature clawed every orifice open for one final, unimaginably thorough fucking.

She waited for the hammer to fall.

Instead, Violet forced her way forward.

"You are far from the first milk maid to be assaulted en route to the pastures," Violet started. "As influential as I may seem, I am unable to restrain the unwanted sexual attention of laborers onto my staff. Yes, their grueling schedule, the availability of service units, and the small measures I can take to petition the overseer do have an impact in curtailing incidents. But no woman is immune from sexual assaults..."

Violet then leaned forward, her breasts almost spilling out of her uniform.

"No one, except for you."

"Me? But I - I mean..."

"Calm down, Gwen," Violet said, showing a soft smile. "You act as though I intend to space you. Far from it. I want to learn your secret."

"My secret? Those men almost raped me in the hallway. If you hadn't come..."

"If I hadn't come around the corner when I did, there would have been two dead laborers," Violet said gravely.

"Dead?"

"Oh, I don't imagine you'd feel bad for a cretin like Nasher," Violet said. "One death is easy enough to explain. The human body is not meant to endure the extremes of Epsilon Seven. Hearts give out. But had I allowed what I witnessed to continue, I'm certain you would have killed Castor too."

"Killed him? But I didn't even touch them!"

"No, they touched you," Violet said. "Gwendolyn I'm curious. In all of your rotations on the colony have you ever been raped?"

"I..." Gwendolyn started.

"You haven't, as far as I can tell. In your records, there's no trips to the infirmary. No requests for emergency contraceptives. No video evidence of any such incident. Now, not all of these cameras are in working condition, so if you were to tell me of an incident that occurred outside of our purview..."

She paused for a second, letting the silence work.

"Then I have to ask Gwendolyn. It's not that you aren't desirable, or that or men aren't desperate. So what makes you so special?"

"I don't - I don't know," Gwendolyn started. "I am the same as everyone else. Everywhere I go, whenever I am, wondering when it will be my turn. I think about it all the time, when some man's hands are going to grab me. When he is going to take his turn - I think about it so much, my head starts to hurt and I -"

"Wait..." Violet said. "Did your head start to hurt as Nasher started to convulse."

"I don't know. Maybe. It happened so fast, I just -"

Violet's hand went up, silencing her.

Gwendolyn head burned again, her thoughts radiating around the idea of Violet believing her, trusting her, accepting her willingness to tell her mistress everything in order to better serve their part of the colony.

"You know a little of my own story, just not enough," Violet said. "To you and your peers I seem unnaturally influential. Only it is my theory that nature had more to do with my rise."

"You told me you started caring for the hucows out of sentiment," Gwendolyn answer. "That the data showed your methodology, stimulating the subjects sexually, withholding orgasms - that all of it showed a drastic improvement in milk yields that were impossible to ignore."

There was a sense of outrage at being misled, not just by her mistress, but through this story that had become a fabled gospel for every aspiring woman. And for a second, the shattering of her idol caused a complete collapse in practice etiquette.

"I need you to calm down and listen closely to what I have to say," Violet said. "Did you ever question why I was allowed to visit the pastures?"

Gwendolyn stared unblinking at her mentor, unable to believe how easily she ignored this obvious inconsistency.

"Like you - I willed it," Violet said. "No, I do not believe I am nearly as talented. I have been raped - repeatedly. But I could usually convince a man to content himself with my mouth. And to give me access to areas, files, and images. You have seen enough of the surviving reels to know that Epsilon 7 is not the only part of the universe. Once, and maybe even still, humanity spread out through the stars, inhabiting countless worlds, creating unique cultures in areas of plenty. Then came an exodus. Here the archives become sparse, censored to keep curious minds from questioning the status quo. Even the Overseer no longer knows how many generations we have toiled on this barren rock. Gone is the technology to leave, but once we were able to walk amongst the stars, traveling from place to place.

What prompted our ancestors to settle here and scuttle any chance of leaving? Why would a space-faring civilization abandon the universe from isolation on this desolate asteroid? Plague? War? No, something more frightening pushed our ancestors past the frontiers, where no one would ever look for them.

Mentalics.

The word appears in only the most restricted texts. The sources are muddled and inconsistent, sometimes the abilities described are telepathic or telekinetic. Since discovering the terms, I became convinced I held trace amounts of these psionic abilities. Little more than the ability to influence along likely neurological paths. To nudge a person's emotional state almost imperceptibly. At times, I considered this believe almost too fantastical, but when I witnessed similar characteristics in the women I recruited..."

"You mean..." Gwendolyn started, unable to finish the thought.

"Yes," Violet Nall said, her hand gently tracing over the twin nozzles on the desk. "The milk maids are more than simple servants. We are the next development in human evolution."

Gwendolyn paused, shocked, disbelieving, and yet something inside of her knew this made too much sense to be utter fantasy. The parts connected too perfectly together to be ignored as simple superstition.

"Why then?" Gwendolyn asked. "If we can control minds, why are we treated like this?"

Violet sighed.

"It is not so simple to harness," Violet said. "Nor are you truly aware of the progress already made. The old pastures were truly barbarous compared to what you now know. The creation of the milk maids, keeping myself and our kind alive, proves challenging enough."

"Who else knows?" Gwendolyn said.

"Only you," Violet said, shrugging. "Many of the others might even lack my meager abilities to enact change."

"I don't understand. The forced breeding, genetic tests..."

"Relics," Violet said, waving her hand. "A desperate attempt to delay the inevitable. At some point in the past, it seemed prudent to force out all knowledge of mentalics. Only now it seems so obvious that selective breeding was the only thing preventing this next stage in human consciousness."

"So what now?" Gwendolyn asked.

"Now, you decide," Violet said slowly, her eyes fluttering down. "Already I have told you enough to mark myself as an enemy of the state. Though I've been careful, there are spies everywhere. I must admit, before today's performance, I even worried about your loyalty."

"My loyalty? But I -"

"I know," She said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "But the Overseer is no great friend of mine. He and his followers could do without such displays of femine authority. And of late he seems to have known things."

She paused for a moment.

"I thought perhaps your protected status resulted from serving under his employment."

Gwendolyn's mind latched onto the meat of the admission.

"What does he know?"

"I'm not certain," Violet admitted, considering before expanding on her thought. "I might as well take you into my full confidence. The colony's main terminal, the one which operates everything from the power to the weapons, requires a passcode to operate. It was recently changed..."

Gwendolyn tried to wrap her mind around the many implications of this statement.

"Do not worry," Violet smiled. "I have acquired the new code."

"What should we do with it?"

Violet shrugged.

"You have that choice. Given your abilities, I do not doubt that you could turn me in, convince the council of my guilt. In twenty rotations, I've made my share of enemies. You could take my place, resolve to do better, maybe one day even replace the Overseer."

"I couldn't!" Gwendolyn protested.

"Why not? You can have anything you want! You can decide who eats and who gets eaten by the monster," Violet said.

"I don't want that!"

"What do you want?"

"To leave!" Gwendolyn almost yelled. "To go somewhere else. A planet, a star, a place where girls aren't taken as slaves, hucows, or fed to beasts. I would fly off of this rock and never return!"

"That..." Violet said slowly. "Might be the only thing I think is impossible."

"Well, what would you do? Tell me! Tell me what to do and I'll try!"

"I would start the revolution," Violet said quietly.

"What? How?"

"With the ability to kill, what would stop you?" Violet said. "I could get you into the same room as the Overseer and -"

"I couldn't kill anyone! We don't even know that's what happened! That man - Nasher - he just dropped dead! Maybe it's just a coincidence!"

"Maybe..." Violet admitted.

"And what would happen to the hucows? Or the rest of us, once the rest of the men stopped farming..."

"You are right. There is no point in rebellion if we are just to die on this desolate rock."

"Then what can we do?"

"That depends on you," Violet said, thinking. "And the extent of your powers. If - for instance, we could find a way for you to control the council indefinitely, enacting enough changes to create a better standard of living."

"How could I control them though?"

"Well, let's think about what elevated your powers. What stopped Nasher's heart?"

"He went to kiss me..." Gwendolyn said slowly.

Violet walked up to the younger woman, her long arms reaching down to hold Gwendolyn just above her neck. Gwendolyn stared up at the taller woman, their eyes meeting in a tranquil moment of understanding. Her thumb traced over the girl's lips.

Gwendolyn took in a deep breath, unable to believe their intimate proximity.

"I want you to experiment," Violet said. "I think your powers might be enhanced through the exchange of bodily fluids..."

"Uh..." Gwendolyn said, barely able to focus.

How many times had she wanted her mentor to touch her? How many times had she even dreamed of exchanging places with one of her hucows just so that Violet would touch her. So that the enchanting Supervisor would bring her to an orgasm as powerful as the ones claimed by their livestock?

For so many rotations, Violet had been larger than life. Her dark, purple hair, wide hips, copious bust created an iconic image unmatched by mythology. She stood out through her story alone, scandalous, solicitous, and sensual, inspiring an entire generation. Her sorrowful and stern expression always seemed to expect the best from her subjects, causing them to crave her approval.

Her followers could never match her in mind and body. Even the way she wore that tight fitting uniform, the end of her mini-skirt hugging the curve of her buttocks, her breasts bulging forward, as if the standard issue silver one-piece was part of her character. The elegant way her long, exquisite legs glided through each step, baring her top of her creamy, porcelain thighs.

An ideal.

An impossible dream. That someone with her status would be interested in a girl like Gwendolyn. But she couldn't see to her own strengths. Her own, natural allure, her thin frame, her boyish, pixie-like body, all offered something more diverse to Violet.