textfiles/sex/EROTICA/H/hunger.txt

The three men who sat around the coffe table did not look like
conspirators; they looked like nerds.  One was a professor, two were
grad students.  The professor was impatient.  "Where is John?  I hate it
when he's late," he complained.  One of the grads tried to calm him.
"Relax, Bill, you know John.  He's probably had another brainstorm and
is slaving over a hot simulation."

"We are done with simulations.  It's time to act--or not act.  That's
what tonight is about."

The professor was one of the most eminent virologists in the world.  His
name was prominently mentioned whenever the Nobel prize was mentioned.
One of the grad students was a brilliant geneticist; the other a top-
notch computer scientist.  And the missing man was probably the foremost
nanotechnologist in the world.

At last, the fourth, John, arrived.  "Sorry I'm late.  I had to wrap up
something...."

"As usual," Bill said sourly.  "Allright. Let's get to business." He
looked around, fixing each man with an intense stare.  He sought their
eyes, as if trying to read their thoughts.  It was a dramatic moment,
intentionally so.

"Gentlemen, when we formed this...conspiracy...over five years ago, we
began working towards this day.  Let me show you what we have achieved."
He walked to a side table and brought back a small tray.  On the tray
were twelve small aerosol cans, similar to "travel size" antiperspirant
sprays.

"I completed the production run yesterday.  The same revision level as
the one we tested on Julie and Gwen.  You willall recall that the
results of the tests were highly successful and met all expectations.

"These are the results of our efforts.  The question is: shall we
proceed forward and use them? It is an awesome step, a huge
responsibility.  If we do, we shall alter human history--and human
nature--with no possibility of undoing our handiwork. We shall be
reviled as monsters, as enemies of humanity...worse than Hitler, Stalin,
Pol Pot.  So I ask you: are you confident enough of the rightness of our
aim to carry it to completion?  Or shall we destroy these without using
them?"

A long silence.  Then one of the grads spoke up.  "Sir, I'm in favor of
proceeding.  You remember when John approached us, the discussions we
had?  We've been all over this, many times, in the time we've been
working together."

John said, "I agree.  We've pledged to carry out this effort.  It's for
the good of Mankind, even though they will not realize it.  Eventually
we shall be vindicated.  I can live with the name-calling.  I've made my
peace over the human impact.  It has to be done.  You know that."

The others agreed, each in his own way.  Bill, the leader, handed three
cans to each man, taking two for himself.  Then he handed out airline
tickets.

"Paul, you've got LAX, Dallas, then Rio.  Jim, Chicago, Miami, Heathrow.
Sam, JFK, SFI, then Narita.  I've got Seattle, Atlanta, Moscow.  You all
know the drill?"

Assent.

"All right.  We'll meet here in one week.  Good luck."

                                  ***

Jim, one of the grad students, strolled along one of the concourses of
O'Hare International.  In his hand, concealed under a folded newspaper,
was one of the cans.  Every few moments, he released a small amount of
the aerosol.  Particles swirled in the air currents, carried to every
part of the huge airport.  Trillions of synthetic viral particles
drifted, inhaled by thousands.  Many of those infected boarded jets,
carrying the virus to other destinations.  Exhaling the virus with every
breath, infecting still others unknowingly.

When the can was empty, he ditched it in a trash barrel, then sat down
to wait for his next flight.  He knew his brothers were duplicating his
actions in the major air hubs of the world.  He smiled grimly.

                                  ***

"Mr. President, we have a very serious problem." This was how Dr.
Jensen, the President's Science Advisor, opened the meeting.  "Two days
ago, the FBI and NIH received the videotape you are about to be shown.
We have every reason to believe it is genuine.  We also have been
informed that the major world governments have also received this
video."  He nodded, and an aide started the tape.

On a blue screen, white letters appeared.  "SAVE THE MALES!" said the
banner.  The banner held for a few seconds, dissolving to show a man at
a desk.  His face was shadowed; his voice distorted but understandable.

"I represent the Brotherhood of Men.  Three weeks ago, our agents
released aerosol sprays of a tailored virus in every major airport of
the world.  By now the virus has spread throughout the world.  Our
computer projections show that the infection is nearly complete.  In a
few days, the first signs of the infection will become evident.

"We have no demands.  The result we desire will be effected by the
inevitable social and political changes caused by this infection.  We
are men who are sickened by the rise of feminism; we have brought this
un-natural abomination to an end.

"Our virus is the result of years of concentrated research.  There is no
antidote, no cure, no vaccine.  It is intensely contagious and once it
has invaded the cells of the body, it cannot be removed.  The virus
causes irreversible and permanent changes in every female human being it
infects.  Men are carriers; that is, they can infect others but are not
themselves affected.

"The effect of our virus is simple and easy to explain.  Any female over
the age of five years who is infected will develop an intense biological
need for male semen.  Any female who fails to receive fresh semen every
72 hours will sicken and eventually die.  An intense craving, an
un-natural hunger, for male semen will commence once every three days.
Only fresh semen will ease the symptoms; frozen or refrigerated semen
must be used within eight hours of production or it will prove
ineffective.  Although ingestion is the most effective, any contact with
semen will be sufficient to remove symptoms for 72 hours.  Pregnant
women will not suffer the symptoms during the term of pregnancy.

"You will discover that, if a female receives her 'essence' from the
same man repeatedly, she will come to 'favor' or prefer his to any other
man's.  She will still be able to accept sperm from any male in a pinch,
but given a choice she will always return to her 'primary male supply'.
If another male begins supplying her needs on a regular basis, she will
gradually change her preference to favor him.  We recommend a gradual
replacement of one male's fluid for another, if a deliberate trade is
being made.

"Some of the changes that the virus will bring should be obvious.
Unattractive women and lesbians will be quickly eliminated from the
population.  That should account for the majority of feminists.  You
will have to make changes in the law and customs; we'll leave those up
to you.  You'll really have no choice; therefore we need not enumerate
the changes you'll make.

"That is all.  Do not try to find us; we cannot be found.  You can thank
us later."

The tape ended.

"Mr. President, I met today with Dr. Weston, the head of the Centers for
Disease Control.  She informed me that this tape is accurate.  A
sample of the virus was supplied with the tape.  The virus has been
isolated and is being analyzed.  It has been found on every continent,
and in every city in the U.S. where we have had time to look. Our
estimates show that over 97% of the population has been infected."

The President was visibly shaken.  "A cure...vaccine...?"

"No, sir.  At present, we have not an inkling of any way to defeat this
infection.  It is only part virus.  Nanotechnology has been applied.
The technology is impressive; world-class.  In some respects it is
beyond the state of the art as it is currently known.  These are
half-virus, half-machine.  We have no known way to respond to it.  Due
to the artificial component, normal immune reactions have no effect on
the infection."

"Have...symptoms...been reported?"

"Yes, sir.  Mostly on the West Coast.  We speculate that the virus was
released there first.  There have been riots in San Francisco.  We've
had a news blackout since they began.

"Sir, here is a tape that was taken in the infirmary of Seton Hall
Women's Institute, a women's prison.  This tape is classified 'Top
Secret, Eyes Only'.  The prison physician recorded the effect of the
virus on women who could not obtain male sperm.  Sir, I must warn you:
it is quite gruesome."

"Let me see it."

It was shown him.

"Good God...." The President's face was ashen.  "I...feel a
bit...ill...give me a moment..."

"Sir, the question now is: how do we inform the public?"

                                  ***

Jim and Paul, the two grad students, met for lunch.  "Have you seen
any of the...signs?" asked Paul.  "Yeah; a couple.  I figure one more
day, it'll be full onset, all over campus."

"Hmfff.  I've got a few, uh, prospects picked out.  I guess I'd better
get moving."

"Me, too." He grinned.  "One real plus to all the late hours and pure
hell we've been through: we get first pick.  For a change."

"Right." Paul picked up his pack. "See you later. I gotta see Jenny
Chin."

"The cheerleader?  Wow.  But leave Kathy Pitman alone.  I got dibs!"

                                  ***
Jennifer Chin was in her dorm room, trying to study.  She was a lovely
asian, with long black hair, shapely legs, and an exceptional chest for
such a petite girl.  She was having trouble concentrating.  She felt
hungry, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what she was hungry
_for_.  The knock on her door startled her.

"Yes?"

A male voice answered.  "Hello?  I'm doing a project, and I need
subjects.  Can you help me?"

Jennifer looked through the peep hole.  Sized him up instantly: A
gangly, pimpled nerd.  Harmless.  She sighed and unlocked the door. She
needed a diversion; studying wasn't doing any good, anyway.

"All right. What kind of project?"

"It's on smell. I need you to smell a few samples, and answer some
questions."

"How long will this take?"

"Not long. Only a few samples."

"OK."

She let him in, and he spread several wide-mouthed vials on her desk,
handing her a questionnaire and a pencil.  She read the instructions.
"Sniff each vial and circle the letter which corresponds best to your
impression of the odor."

Jennifer opened the first vial, sniffed hesitantly.  She wrinkled her
nose.  "Yuck.  Smells like old socks."  She didn't see Paul quietly shut
the door.

She opened the second vial, raised it to her nose.  Paul watched
intently.  Jennifer took a small sniff. Her eyes grew wide.
"It's...it's...oh my God..." Now she was clutching the vial.  Almost as
if by its own volition, her small pink tongue emerged from her mouth.
She began lapping up the fluid in the vial, totally consumed by hunger
for it.  She soon emptied the vial, but her tongue continued to probe
the vial, seeking the smallest remaining drop. Her eyes were glazed, her
expression vacant.  The tongue kept up its quest for just one more
drop...

She was interrupted in this activity by Paul's hand on her shoulder.
"Uh, Jennifer...."

She looked up at him, with a confused stare.  "Wha...what?..."

"Would you like some more?"

"More?  Oh, yes!" She was _SO_ HUNGRY; she HAD to have MORE.

"I have more, as much as you need." He took her hand, led her to the
bed.  "Here it is," he said, gently, as he unzipped his pants.

                                  ***
"How'd it go?

"Great.  Jenny's mine; completely bound.  I got two others: Terri Boyce
and Lisa Lawton.  I missed Anna Hinley, though; I'll get her tomorrow,
with luck. How about you?"

"The same. Kathy went like a stone.  Then I got an idea.  I went to the
third-floor lounge in Kathy's dorm and opened a vial.  Geez, they
swarmed in there like flies; I hadda fight 'em off.  By the time the
frenzy was over, I had eight--or was it nine?  Anyhow, three of 'em are
bound; the others will have to wait 'till I can, uh, recharge."

                                  ***

The man stood in a shadowed section of the sidewalk. Here they came, two
innocent little schoolgirls, in identical uniforms.  White blouse, short
plaid skirt, white knee-socks.  They looked about 12 or 13, he thought.

"Excuse me, girls..."

The blonde one said, "Huh? What do you want?"

"Um, I have something you might like..."

"Go away!  We won't take anything from strangers!  C'mon, Cindy, let's
go; you remember what your mother told you..."

"But, girls, I think you'll really LIKE this....Here it is." He opened
one of the two vials he'd brought.  They were already walking away, but
the breeze was blowing in their direction.  The red-head stopped
suddenly, almost as if she'd been on the end of a leash.

"Ooooh...what's THAT?  It smells so _good_..." She turned and came back
toward him, eyes focused on the vial.

"Megan, come on!  What are you _doing_?!?"

"It's, -slurp-, so good!..."

The blonde one returned, to try to persuade her friend. Then _she_ got a
whiff.  "Oooh.  Can _I_ try it?"

"Sure. I have one for you, too."

Now both of them were eagerly lapping at the vials, literally eating out
of his hand.  Soon the vials were empty.

The girls were dazed, still licking their lips, as he withdrew the
vials.  A bit unsteady on their feet, too, he noticed.

"I'm afraid that's all I've got here," he told them.  "But I know where
you can get more..."

"More?!?  Where?!"

"Well, if you'll just come with me, I'll take you there."

They followed him eagerly, all memory of their mothers' warnings
forgotten.  Now all that mattered was getting more of that wonderful
liquid. He grinned. Worked every time.  These were the fourth and fifth
in his growing little stable.  Soon they'd be bound only to him; no more
schoolwork for THEM, he thought...

                                  ***

Joe Lohman parked his car and walked wearily to the door of his house.
Inside waited his wife and two young daughters.  He steeled himself,
then went inside.

The TV was on; there was some sort of government announcement going.  He
thought he heard something about "martial law".  He collapsed into his
easy chair and picked up the paper.

Suddenly, his eight-year old daughter, Connie, was in his lap.  He
peered over the paper at her.  She was half-naked, wearing only panties.

"Connie, what are you doing running around like that?"

Connie licked her lips.  "Daddy...I'm...Hungry...!"

"Well, Mom will have supper ready soon.  Now get down."

"No...I'm Hungry...for YOU...!"  her tone of voice was strange, almost
animal.  Joe was shocked.  "What on Earth?!?..."

Connie lunged forward and kissed him, hungrily.  Her tongue thrust into
his mouth.  "I...want...you...NOW!..." she growled.  Her little hands
were busy at his belt.  In moments, she'd freed his cock and had slid
downwards.  Now she was licking it, moaning about her hunger and need.

Stunned, for a moment Joe did nothing.  He sat watching the
eight-year-old work on his cock, which was firming under her efforts.
"Connie!  Stop this instant," he began.  But suddenly she was joined by
Amy, her ten-year-old sister.  Now there were two girls bent on bringing
him erect.  It felt GOOD.  He gasped, "Girls, this is wrong....what will
you mother say?!..." At that moment they were joined by his normally-
aloof wife, who had crawled on her hands and knees and was now caressing
his balls as the little girls licked his shaft.

In moments, he spurted.  The three licked the come up hungrily, almost
fighting over it.  When he was clean, they sighed, and relaxed.  "Mmmm,
Daddy, that was delicious," purred Amy.  "Delicious," agreed Connie.
"I'm not...so HUNGRY...any more..."

Joe looked at the three of them.  What the hell was going on?

                                  ***

"Hey, Paul!"

"Oh..hello."

"I haven't seen you in weeks.  How've you been?"

"I've been...busy..."

"Yeah, me too.  I've got a stable of bound girls to look after.  A big
responsibility."

"I know.  Mine's over twenty now. It's wearing me out.  Need a few?"

"No, thanks.  Mine are all I can handle.  You know, it's great watching
ones like Suzy Morris trying to deal with the new situation.  She
-hates- me, but now she needs me to live!"

"That castrating bitch.  She deserves it, if ever any of them did. Me, I
like having Tracy Cole under MY thumb.  Remember her?  A real cock-
teaser.  She played her games with me, time was.  No more, pal, no
more."

"I hear you.  Have you seen Professor Gilman?  I never knew he had it in
him!..."

"Yeah; he bound three or four co-eds right away; then he did his
department chair.  So far, they all look healthy, so he must have
_something_ left!"

"And what about John?  Have you seen...!"

"Yup. I never woulda thought he'd go for kids.  But he's got, what, ten
or twelve, none older than fourteen.  He's keeping them happy, too. I
asked him about it; he just smiled and said, 'SOMEbody's gotta take
care of the children'!"

"Wow. And I hear their parents are grateful--some even brought their
daughters TO him!"

"Yeah; I heard the same."

"All in all, I'd say it's working out pretty well."

"Uh huh."

                                  ***

"C'mon, Suzy, don't cry..."

"I can't help it.  What are we gonna _DO_?"

"Nothing.  There's nothing we _can_ do.  They've got us.  We have to
have their...stuff...to live.  We're just like junkies.  So we just
gotta learn to, you know, adapt..."

"I don't want to.  I'd rather die!"

"Did you see what happened to Karen Clausen?  _She_ tried to do
without...it.  God, it makes me sick just to think about it.  Do you
wanna have _that_ happen to _you_?"

"NO.  But I _might_ just jump from the bell tower...or something..."

"No you won't.  It's not that bad.  I'm actually starting
to...like...him a little.  He's OK; not so awful.  And we've gotta face
reality: he's our...Master...now.  He knows it, and so do we.  If we
keep him happy, we'll be OK..."

"You actually _like_ him? He's a monster!"

"No, he's not.  Every girl has someone just like him, now, or else she's
dead.  And I've heard that SOME of them are really monsters.  He really
doesn't ask for much. I don't mind dressing like this--it shows my
figure, anyhow, (along with everything else!).  And so what if he makes
us call him 'Master'?  It's no big deal, Suzy, really..."

"Maybe to you.  But it makes me sick to call him that..."

"If it helps us get, you know, what we need...what's so bad about it?"

"Oh, god, you're doing just what they _want_.  Going along.  Geez, Jen,
pretty soon, you'll be _happy_ with what they've done to us!"

"Maybe I will. It's better than being dead."

                                  ***

"You wished to see me, Master?"

"You may stand, girl."

"Thank you, Lord."

"You'll be needing a 'booster' soon, won't you?"

"Yes, Master. My last was almost 68 hours ago."

"This is my friend Joe.  You know him, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Joe and I have arranged a little trade.  For the next couple of weeks,
you'll be receiving your....fluid...from both of us.  Today, for
example, it's 80% mine and 20% Joe's.  Each time, we'll increase Joe's
portion and reduce mine.  By the end of the second week, you'll be
getting 100% Joe." He grinned.

"But, Master, I love you! I don't want to, uh, take anybody else's..."

"It's already decided.  I'm sorry, Wendy, but you'll belong to Joe, and
I will get his pretty little Leslie in return.  I'm sure you'll like,
uh, working for him.  He's a lot like me, gentle but firm...Here's your
first, um, dose..."

He exchanged grins with Joe. They'd already had a similar little scene
with Leslie...

She was on her knees, slurping it up before he had the cap properly off.

                                  ***

Two years had passed.  The more thoughtful shook their heads in wonder
at the changes that had happened in those years.

The social disruptions had been massive.  Civilization struggled to
regain equilibrium; human biology had changed, and human society had to
change to accomodate the new facts of life.  It slowly dawned on the
leaders and thinkers that the Brotherhood virus had forever changed the
nature of females.  No longer could 'female equality' be discussed with
a straight face.  The virus made females naturally inequal, dependent on
males for their very lives.  Sex ruled their bodies and minds; only
through sexual means could they continue to live.  The virus made males
the Masters; women and girls the servants.

Many railed against the new reality; that did not change it.  Slowly,
then with increasing speed, society changed to reflect the new nature of
things.  Nothing could prevent these changes; they were entirely logical
and inevitable, given the action of the virus.

Laws against rape and incest had been repealed.  Child "molestation" was
no longer a crime.  Sexual harassment laws, while still nominally in
force, were a joke.  Women still had the vote, but few bothered to
exercise the right.  They had no time for politics; survival and the
acquisition of semen were their main--their only--concerns. Prostitution
was non-existent, at least the kind with female prostitutes.  Women and
girls dressed in a way that would have been termed "outrageous" a year
ago; it was common to see young girls, as young as six or seven, wearing
tiny miniskirts and see-through tops. This was considered "normal" by
everyone.

Crime was at a record low.  Men walked around with happy expressions on
their faces; adolescent boys were in Heaven.  Now women were the ones
who had to beg for sex and MEN controlled the supply.  For the first
time in human history, the supply of sex equalled the demand.

The media had had a field day, at first, reporting on the extravagant
impact of the virus.  "MAN SERVICES UNDERAGE DAUGHTER; POLICE REFUSE TO
ARREST", screamed the headlines.  "SCHOOLTEACHER HELD FOR CHILD ABUSE;
ALL CHARGES DROPPED!"; "WOMAN HELD IN SEX ASSAULT!"; "CHILD PORN KING
ACQUITTED; 'JUST TRYING TO SAVE LIVES', HE SAYS AFTER COURT TRIUMPH";
"NATIONAL ORGANIZATION OF WOMEN DISBANDED"

Shocking stories abounded.  Of the young girl, whose father was out of
town, who walked into the local Police station begging for sperm.  A
gruff Sergeant accomodated her.  "I have daughters myself," he
explained.  "I couldn't bear to see an innocent child suffer."  Later he
was given a medal for meritorious service.  Of the fourteen-year-old boy
who collected a harem of young girls, aged ten to fifteen, dominating
them totally.  Of ageing wives, unable to arouse their husbands,
sickening and dying in the gruesome syndrome which had so shaken the
President.  Of rage and revenge, as women realized they could no longer
coax from their husbands the fluid they needed to live, and struck out
against their indifferent spouses.

"FEDS BUST COVEN OF KHOONTZES!" shouted the papers.  The covens were a
new phenomenon; groups of ugly, fat, or gay women who organized to
abduct boys and men.  The victims were held captive and forced to
provide sperm for the coven.  Frequently a pretty young girl was also
held, to provide "encouragement" for the males to "produce".  The
authorities were ruthless in their treatment of such groups.  Frequently
they were burned at the stake and the burnings televised as a warning to
others.

One aspect of the virus' action was a closely-held government secret. It
was discovered that the virus was slowly altering the ratio of live
births. Instead of the "normal" 50/50 split, the live-birth ratio was
slowly tilting towards females.  Computer projections indicated that the
ratio would eventually stabilize at around 10:1, that is, one male for
every ten females.

The virus also gave females an amazing ability to seek out sperm.  Their
sense of smell and taste was amplified to an incredible degree, and
seemed optimized for detection of semen.  Experiments showed that girls
and women could detect and find small vials of fresh semen from great
distances.  Adolescent boys used this effect to lure girls to them,
placing a small container of semen in a secluded location and waiting
for the female to come seeking it.  What transpired then was obvious and
predictable.

Families no longer protected their daughters' virginity; what was the
point?  And the dating scene was turned on its head, with sex the
primary object for both boy and girl.

The school system collapsed under the strain.  Children were having sex
in the hallways, with other students and with teachers.  Under these
conditions, male teachers could not resist the temptation posed by
hordes of eager and insistent young girls.  Female teachers suffered
from 'unfair competition'.  Over time, the schools were re-established,
in a strange new form.

Segregated schools were now the norm.  Boys were trained in one set of
schools, girls in another.  In the male-only schools, the curriculum
resembled that of the past, with academic subjects receiving the most
attention.  In the girls' schools, quite a different course of study was
followed.  It was reasoned that girls' survival depended on their
ability to attract and satisfy a male.  Therefore they were taught how
to dress and act, and were given an advanced series of sex-education
courses designed to enable them to extract the life-giving juice they
needed so badly.  If any feminists had still remained alive, they would
have been shocked at the frank and explicit training given to even young
girls.  The girls were taught to be submissive and subservient; to obey
their 'primary male' as their master and owner.  Females were slipping
back into the role of property, chattels to their male dominators.  This
was unavoidable, given the new reality imposed by the virus.

In many foreign countries, the practise of female infanticide underwent
a resurgence.  In the U.S., unattractive or ugly girls were frequently
driven into the streets by their fathers; a system of 'orphanages' was
established for these unfortunates.  These institutions, called "Chelsea
Houses" after the extraordinarily ugly child of a past President,
provided the life-giving liquid to some of the girls unable to obtain it
for themselves.  The sperm was provided by priests, and was extracted by
pretty nuns who had dedicated themselves to this service.  There was an
intense controversy surrounding these houses.  Some decried their
existence, arguing that there was no reason to maintain defective
females.  Others, dismayed that they could not satisfy the demand for
such shelters, argued that they were unfair to those who could not find
a place within them.  Yet others felt that it was cruel to maintain a
"non-viable" female until age 18, when she was inevitably ejected to
fend for herself, frequently with disastrous results.

The courts reeled and buckled under the onslaught.  Whole volumes of law
were repealed or re-written.  Women were no longer allowed to testify in
Court; they were classed with underage children as unreliable witnesses.
Too many women had been forced to perjure themselves by threats to
withhold semen.  And likewise, female lawyers ceased to practise.  In
one celebrated case, a male lawyer reduced his opponent to helplessness
by opening a vial of his own fresh semen in the courtroom.  The sight of
this formerly-professional woman, dressed in a conservative suit,
kneeling before her adversary and slurping his come from a small plastic
cup, was enough for the judge and jury.

Now, when a baby girl was born, she was exposed to her father's sperm
when only days old.  Although The Hunger did not begin until age 5 or 6,
the practise had grown up; parents believed that it helped to "bind" the
girl-child to her father. So a little ritual was performed, in which a
few drops of the father's seed were smeared on the baby's lips while she
was still in the creche. It was considered a good sign when a tiny girl
used her tongue to lick the sperm from her lips.  "She'll be a
man-pleaser," the nurse would say of such a one.  "Ready to suck it down
already."

                                  ***

Generations passed.  The world, as remade by the Brotherhood, could
barely be recognized.  Men ruled the roost, presiding over large
extended families of compliant and subservient females. A man could
maintain a household of dozens of females, so long as he and his sons
could keep them satisfied with semen.

There were no ugly girls or women now; selective breeding had ensured
that.  Lesbian tendencies were likewise nearly gone; surprisingly, the
gays had been right, and their abnormality was hereditary.  Now it was
nearly extinct, eliminated by genetics.

Girls were 'inititated' into sex when they began experiencing The
Hunger, at approximately five years of age.  Young girls, as young as
six or seven, were incredibly skilled at the art of pleasuring a male.
Women who could no longer satisfy their owners were traded to other
males or painlessly euthanized.  The planet was peaceful and happy;
women and girls had settled into their new, more natural role, and were
now completely at home with it.

The schools had evolved into 'training institutes' for girls, centers
where intense sexual training was conducted.  Girls were returned to
their primary males ready for a life of service and pleasure; they never
forgot the extraordinarily rigorous course of 'study' they were made to
undergo at the institutes.  Now, obedient and submissive, they accepted
their new lives, living only to satisfy their Masters, existing from one
ejaculation to the next, and thinking only of their next dose of sperm.

Females were property, owned by their males.  Killing a female was not
illegal, but was considered to be 'unrefined behavior' by the other
Masters.  A Master's word was law in his own domain; his women obeyed
helplessly, bound to their Master's life-giving seed.  Within each
household, the dominant male established rules of dress, behavior, and
duties; the females submitted willingly to these rules, unable to even
conceive of another way of life.