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From: brontecavendishZAPSPAM@hotmail.com (Bronte)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 5 Aug 2001 11:19:31 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} REPOST : Wollstonecraft's TALES OF THE SEEDING
Date: Mon,  6 Aug 2001 00:10:01 -0400
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                              \\\//
                             -(@ @)-                   
--------------------------oOO--(_)--OOo-----------------------------------

                          W A R N I N G  !          
     This story contains graphic and sexually explicit material,
     and is best enjoyed with someone of the appropriate sex handy.  
     As in any  work of fiction, the behaviour of the protagonists   
     is not necessarily endorsed by the author, and any resemblance
     to persons or events is purely coincidental.
     No virgins were deflowered in the creation of this work. 
     Sex with minors should be left to other minors, and while 
     It's fine to *read* about unprotected sex with strangers, 
     you should only *have* unprotected sex with a trusted partner.
     You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it.
                          P L E A S E  !!          
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

                       Tales of the Seeding
                                or
                 "Their Ways Are So Strange"

                  -------by Wollstonecraft-------



   Eleanor's tale :

   It seems silly saying so now, but I was nervous about the seeding.  I
guess we all were, except for Rosemary.  They tell you all sorts of things,
girls getting hurt, girls dying.  I guess they do that to make sure you've
exercised and ready.  It's a lot of work, you know, getting ready.

   We all made preparations and did the exercises.  I had my sister help.
She'd had her seeding three years ago, and she showed me just how to
position my mound to maximize the length of the shaft thrust and how to
coax my partner to issue the most potent fertilizer.

   You know, the seed has to be injected into the receiving canal with
enough force to drive it through the channel and up into the breeding
pocket so it'll root and cultivate.  Usually there's a membrane that blocks
entrance into the channel, and you have to clear it before you can be
fertilized.

   So every night I'd separate my fur pelt to expose the cleft atop my
mound, and my sister would prod me with the mock shaft to induce
lubrication.  At first I wasn't getting the shaft wet enough, and I'd end
up sore.  She kept working me, though, until I could totally saturate the
cleft, and then we worked on getting past the blockage.

   For a while, she wouldn't push hard enough to get it through, but I told
her it had to be done, so one night, after rubbing up and down within the
folds of my mound, making me moist and open, she took the dart in both
hands and stabbed it sharply into the furrow.  I screamed from the pain,
but the blockage gave way, and the dart was burried deep within me.

   I was so sore, I couldn't bear to do any more exercises, but my sister
reminded me that I had to work on my lubrication, or the seeding would be
just as painful.  I hadn't completely healed, but I continued the
exercises, and soon my sister was able to repeatedly plunge the shaft so
deeply into me that the mound swallowed it up completely.

   All that work paid off, and I certainly couldn't have done it without my
sister's help.  The seeding went superbly.  My partner's bulb sac was tight
and full when we began, his shaft penetrated quickly and easily and he
thrust the seed forcefully through the passage.  I could actually feel the
seed course up and sink into my breeding pocket.  I'll give birth in about
a month, and from the arch of my belly, it'll be a robust heir.

   What has always amazed me is that Rosemary did it all alone!  We all
knew she had a natural ability.  She was able to lubricate spontaneously.
She was internally motivated, and it's hard to compete with that.

   She took the seeding quite seriously.  She practiced every night.  She
was better than any of us at lubricating.  She took great pride in her pelt
and groomed it meticulously.  It was covered with the thickist, darkest
growth of fur I've ever seen.  She was always comely, but in the last year,
she bloomed.  Her hips were wide and full and likely to bear a substantial
yield.  Her breasts had blossomed and were ready for suckling.  Her rump
had even filled out, so there was plenty of cushion.  She was ripe for
seeding, and she was eager to have it done.

   I was so surprised when my partner withdrew and I looked over to
Rosemary and saw she was still coupled.  We all know why now.  It was a
show, wasn't it?  The elders told us that, even though she finished last,
Rosemary would deliver first.

   It turned out to be Melanie.  That was sad about Melanie, wasn't it?

   *

   Rosemary's tale :

   I always knew that the seeding would be the most rewarding and rapturous
act of my life, so I never understood why "finishing last" was supposed to
ba a bad thing.  I can see why the others would, though.  It takes a lot of
effort to open and widen the furrow so the seed deposit would quickly take
root.  It really did the trick for Eleanor.  She was efficently
impregnated, and now her pocket's full.  No doubt her child will be sound
and healthy.

   You see, I expected my seeding to take longer, although not as long as
it turned out to be.  They told us that the seed shoots out of the
breeder's shaft after he's stimulated it enough.  That's why he jabs it in
and out of you, and that's why you have to break the membrane block and
learn to keep yourself just wet enough so the shaft gets just the right
tightness.  They told us to practice, and gave us mock shafts to do
exercises with.  They were huge!  I never thought I could get all of that
thing in me, and I wasn't alone.  The shafts scared all of us to death, but
they told us we really could get them inside of us.  All we needed to do
was practice.

   Then they told us that our partner's shaft might not be the same size.
It might be longer or shorter, thinner or thicker.  It occured to me then
that the idea of practicing with a shaft didn't make a log of sense.  If
you've made yourself used to one size, your lubrication might be all wrong
when the real thing is inside you.  I decided then that I wasn't going to
break my membrane, but let my partner do it on the day of the seeding, and
concentrate on controling my lubrication.

   Most people didn't believe me when I told them that I wasn't going to
penetrate my mound crevice in any of my exercises.  They were sure that the
seed wouldn't take root and sprout.  Oh, at the beginning, I used the mock
shaft and stroked it across the length of the furrow.  The first time I
touched the shaft to my mound, I became so excited that I flooded the
cleve, but with practice I was able to moisten just the tip of the shaft,
even though I held it tightly within the folds of my mound, with no
discomfort.  I found a knob just inside, near the top of my furrow, and
when I caressed it my fluids would gush.

   I found that when I rubbed the shaft against the knob a warmth that
flared down into me.  The more I'd rub, the deeper the flame would spread
and my cleft would overflow with moisture.  I'd rub harder and faster and
the fire would burn hotter and brighter and then the fire would explode up
my spine in waves flashing through my entire being.  My body would shudder
and spasm, my breathing would stop; all I was aware of was the blazing
wildfire within me.  When the waves subsided, my entire pelt would be
drenched with my fluids.

   I began to wonder what it would feel like with a seed shaft within me. I
began to imagine that the fires I'd ignited could only be fully quenched
with the shaft buried inside me.  I began to crave the shaft.  The
temptation to shove the mock shaft through the membrane and into me became
overwhelming.  I stopped practicing with it altogether, and decided to
concentrate on the knob.  I used the fire to control my secretions. 
Eventually, I could lubricate simply by imagining the shaft within me.

   When the day of the seeding arrived, I really thought I was ready.  My
heart was pounding when I was led to my seeding bed.  I was told to make my
preparations.  I groomed my pelt, parting the fur to expose my cleft.  In
anticipation, the furrow was already damp.  I dipped my fingers into the
folds to moisten them and then I brushed and feathered my pelt, sprinkling
the strands with a fine dew.  The moisture caught the light and cast the
mound in glistening velvet.  I moistened my breasts, massaging them to
blush and blossom the nipples.  I laid down upon the blanketed ground,
resting on my elbows, pulling them back to make my breasts jut up and out.
I spread my legs far apart and raised my knees and hips so my mound was
tipped invitingly upward, and I waited.

   When the breeder arrived, he immediately knelt between my legs.  He
fixed his eyes on my breasts, then slowly lowered them to the soft curves
of my mound and stared intently into the furrrow.  My eyes were rivited on
the immense column of flesh jutting out of the dense, matted thicket of fur
below his belly.  It quivered and pulsed as if impatient to plunge into me.
It was quite a bit longer and thicker than I'd expected, and as I watched
it swelled even larger.  At its base on both sides I could see the bulbs
expanding, tightening the sac, swelling up with the seed he would plant in
my breeding pocket to root and ripen inside me.  My body shuddered, my
furrow flooded and I fought for control.

   He leaned forward over me, supporting himself with his arms, placing a
hand on either side of me on the bed between my arms and breasts.  His face
was just above mine, and I stared into his eyes.  He smiled, but said
nothing, and looked down between us, his breath blowing warm through the
valley between my breasts.

   His pushed his hips forward, his legs rubbing roughly against the inside
of my thighs, pushing my legs farther apart.  My body jerked as the shaft
prodded me, then slid down the length of my cleve, coming to rest under me
between my buttocks.  His belly pressed against my mound, the rough fir of
his pelt bristling the cleft, then he pulled back, arched his back, and
pushed forward again.  Thsi time the shaft slid upwards, coming to rest
pressed tight between my belly and his.  I felt it pulse there, smooth and
hard, before he again pulled back.  I looked down and I saw it suspended
from him, aimed at the furrow between my legs.

   He slowly pushed his hips at me a third time, and the shaft caught the
cleve, nestling it's head into the mound at the top of the cleft.  He then
sharply hammered himself at me to force the column into the hollow to
divide the furrow and invade the canal.  Even tho I'd steeled myself for
the onslaught I knew was about to come.  I was stunned by the ferocity of
the thrust, and a cry escaped my lips.

   He'd wedged the shaft deeper into my cleft, but he hadn't penetrated. 
He seemed puzzled at first, surprised that I'd not ruptured the membrane.
He quickly realized that the barrier was still intact, and he'd have to
break through before any of his seed would be plunged into my pouch.

   The head of the shaft had buried itself snugly within the furrow.  He
withdrew a bit, then began to thrust the shaft shallowly up and down the
length of the crevice.  As he reached the end of the trench, he'd tip the
head, jabbing it down and in.  Each time the shaft would drive itself a bit
deeper into the slit, each time the shank would stroke the knob at the top
of the divide and each time I'd shiver, making myself wetter.  Eventually I
could feel the fluids flowing out of me and down onto my bottom.  Suddenly,
I understood: he was stimulating me to be at wet as I could before he made
the final thrust to full penetration.  At the moment I realized that, he
tilted his shaft straight down and gave it a massive thrust, driving it
through the membrane, and suddenly he was lodged deep within me.

   I cried out, not from pain, but from the overwelming sensation having
him in me!  The sudden invading fullness of him within me, filling me,
aroused in me a passion I'd never known.  I gulped air, my heart raced, and
my legs involuntarily drew up and wrapped around his, pulling him closer to
me and sinking his shaft deeper into me, which caused me to cry out again.
My entire body was in a state of excitement, awash in new hungers and
sensations.

   I reached up around him and pulled him down to me.  I flattened my
breasts against his chest, grinding my nipples into his thick fur.  I
buried my face into the hollow of his neck, and ran my hands down his back
to his hindquarters and pressed him deeper into me.  The shaft pulsed
within me, and my back arched, digging my nipples deeper into his chest.

   His hips pulled back and the shaft slowly withdrew, leaving only the
head in the folds, and then he again thrust forward.  I drew my hips up to
meet his thrust and the shaft again sank deep into me, rubbing hard against
the swollen knob at the top of the channel, shooting sparks of fire through
me.  Again he withdrew, again he drove the shaft into me, again I drove
myself up to swallow him up into me.  Again and again, deeper and deeper
the shaft burned into me, his bulb sac pounding against my buttocks.  I
burned with the need to have him in me.  I ached to pull him into me.  I
sank my nails into his back.  I pressed my moaning lips into his neck and
tried to suck him into me.  I pulled him in with my legs, my arms; I needed
to engulf him whole.

   He reached under me, threw my legs over his sholders and rolled me up,
back arched and my mound high, then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me
up to him as he stabbed down into me.  My arms gripped his back as his
piercings came faster and stronger, his hips hammering down, driving the
shaft again and again into me.  My body tensed with the inferno building in
me, and then it erupted in waves of fire and ice, blazing up into my very
essence.  I spasmed uncontrolably, clutching the shaft tightly within me,
and my breath became a scream.

   At the same moment, his breathing became short and strained, his body
taut, his pounding frantic and urgent.  His brow knitted, his teeth
clenched, and he began to grunt.  The shaft began to expand and quiver. 
Howling sharply, he spiked the pulsating shaft deep into me.  His seed
bulbs, pressed hard against my bottom, pulsed and contracted, and the shaft
throbbed violently as it pumped surge after surge of his seed into me,
driving it up through the canal and impregnating it deep into the walls of
my breeding pocket.

   As he continued to spasm into me, I knew his seed had taken root and a
child was growing inside me.  I gasped for breath as the fever again
overwhelmed me.  The relentless pounding and gushing within me ignited the
spark anew, and again my body thrashed and flailed against the pumping
shaft inside of me.  My hips flung themselves up, grinding my mound into
his dripping pelt as the waves of ecstasy whipped through me, filling me
and satiating me.

   As the waves crested, the breeder sank to my breast, drained and
gasping. His weight fell full upon me as he held me in a tight embrace.  We
lay there intertwined, breathless and spent, glistening and slick with
sweat, his shaft still rigid and quivering within me.  Suddenly his hips
jerked.  Mine twitched in response, and his shaft spasmed, causing my
passage to contract.  His hips heaved again, and I rose to meet the thrust.
He thrust again, and again my mound crushed into him.  Again he thrust. 
And again.

   Astonishingly, his strength miraculously revived, he raised himself to
force himself deeply into me, to stab into me again and again.  The shock
of the renewed attack rekindled the spark instantaneoulsy.  Rolling balls
of flame again blazed through my entire being and I cried out again and
again.  The intensity of his onslaught soared.  He stressed each blow with
a loud grunt, hammering burtally into me with a seething fury far greater
than before.  I was consumed by his ferocity, my body in ceaseless spasm,
my hips thrashing wildly to meet his frenzied assault.  His grunts grew
into bellows and then into a howling roar as his shaft suddenly shuddered
and pulsated and erupted again, pumping more of his seed into me, filling
me to overflowing with his essense.  Our cries rose as one as we clung to
each other, ravaged by the maelstrom within us.

   As the turmoil within me finally peaked and ebbed, he again fell into my
arms.  I held him tightly to my breast, drained and dazed.  I began to lose
awareness, falling into a deep sleep, with him still rigid and twitching
deep inside me.  When I awoke, I was alone, and when I rose from the
seeding bed I felt the warm remains of his seed flow out of me and spill
onto my thighs.

   My seeding caused a lot of excitement.  It's quite unusual that a
breeder is so aroused that he issues twice.  Only the elders could recall
it happening to anyone before me.  They said that it used to happen more
often before it became the custom to b reak the blocking membrane before
the seeding.  There's a lot of anticipation surrounding my childbirth. 
Some who are to begin their preparations for seeding are hoping it will be
generous.  I guess they're considering keeping their membranes intact.

   The interesting thing is that they say you've got to concentrate on your
lubrication, but I didn't.  I completely lost track of what I was supposed
to do and got caught up in my feelings.  They say I've been blessed and
favored for being twice-seeded.  I hope they're right; I'll know when I
drop.  Some said I was sure to have gone into labor first, too.  Melanie
did, but then, we know the reason for that.

   *

   Marnie's tale :

   My evacuation had finally agreed after my first birthing, so I was at
the river with the rest.  The young ones, especially the ones who are ready
to seed, can't help wanting to talk about the ceremony and the exercises.
They always ask questions.  The exercises always begin right after the the
middle flow, so the ready ones are starting to get nervous.

   One of us mentioned that the it would soon be time for the ready ones to
begin their exercises, which brought on a new burst of questions and
comments.  We always warn them that the mack shafts may be cold but not to
wait too long to break their membranes, no matter how umcomfortable it is.
Melanie asked why the breeders couldn't help them with the exercises.  She
didn't see why she couldn't practice with a real seed shaft instead of a
mock one.  We laughed and called her silly.  I guess the poor thing didn't
understand.

   Rosemary pretty much dominated the conversations during the last flow.
She kept going on about the spot she found, and how she was adamantly
refusing to break her barrier before the seeding.  Even though we had to
agree that she could lubricate better than any of us, we warned her that
she could end up barren.  She wouldn't listen; she'd just describe the
'fire' that she said she felt.  A few tried to rub themselves to see if
they could feel it, too, but those that did started feeling sick so they
stopped and called Rosemary crazy.  Only Eleanor and Melanie seemed to give
any merit to what Rosemary was doing.

   If Eleanor hadn't already ruptured her membrane, I think Rosemary wwould
have talked her into keeping it intact.  She certainly worked at trying to
feel the 'fire' that Rosemary was talking about.  She finally gave up on it
just before the seeding.  Eleanor always was pretty gullable.

   Melanie didn't take part in any of the discussions.  She stayed to
herself, but every time Rosemary would make her assertions, Melanie would
nod her head, seemingly in agreement.  She seemed much more withdrawn than
during the previous flow, and someone said as much to her.  She said she
was just unsettled about the seeding, but she was looking forward to it. 
As she mentioned it, her nipples hardened and that's when I noticed how
they'd grown since the last flow.  Then I noticed how light her evacuation
was that time and I remembered how late she was in coming down to the
river. It was a silly thought; the notion was unthinkable.  How could it
happen?  Still, the thought gnawed at me.

   *

   The Breeder's tale :

   Maybe it happened, maybe it didn't.  It was her first time, but her pelt
had a pretty wide part to it 'cause I slipped in quick and easy.  But that
don't mean nothing.  Some of them get pretty loose from the exercises.  You
can't tell, I don't think.

   This one was good.  Real good.  Probably the best seeding I ever had. 
Most of the time, with the new ones you gotta start out slow, 'cause
they're usually scared and their slits are never wet enough.  This one was
different.  I get to her and her mound's already rocking up and down like
she's begging for it.

   Her pelt's already dripping wet and her slit's open and ready.  She's
breathing real fast and her teats are shaking and her nipples are sticking
up hard.  My bulb sac got tight and my shaft got hard as soon as I saw her.

   I bend down to stick it into her and she puts her arms around me and
pulls me down on top of her.  Then she grabs my shaft, sticks it in her
mound crack and pushes herself up at it.  I sink in real deep.  It was nice
and tight and I start pushing in and out right away.

   This one's really wet, and she gets me real excited right away, so I
started out pretty fast.  Not fast enough for her, though.  She grabs my
butt and pulls me deeper into her, making me go faster and harder.  Her
pocket's squeezing my shaft like it's got teeth, like it was trying to milk
the seed right out of it.

   This is making me even more excited and pretty soon I'm pounding it into
her so hard I thought I was gonna break her in two.

   She keeps it up, though.  She was pounding up at me as hard and as fast
as I was hammering it into her, making me punch in deeper and deeper,
trying to drive my shaft up her throat.  It didn't take long before I'm
feeling my bulbs trying to explode.  I usually try to hold off letting go,
'cause then I shoot really deep into the egg pocket.  Besides, it feels
real good if I hold it in as long as I can.  She wants it so bad, though,
that I just can't keep it in, and I end up squeezing off the longest wad of
seed that ever came out of me.  Then another and another.  It went on
forever, it was great!  I pumped her full, enough for a dozen, I figure.  I
remember thinking that this one's going to have a litter.

   She knows right away.  Some of them can tell, and it's great when they
do, 'cause they get all excited when they know right when the seed's in
them.  I didn't think this one could get more excited, but she goes nuts!
She's shaking and screaming and she didn't stop until after it was over and
I fell on top of her.

   When I pull out, she kind of whimperes like she's real sorry it's over.

   Maybe she did get her pocket pumped before I filled her.  She really
enjoys having her mound pounded.  About a month after the seeding she comes
to me and says I didn't do it right 'cause her pocket's still empty.  Now,
I look at her and there ain't no way she ain't been bred, because her
belly's already bulging, her teats are bigger and her nipples are bloated
and dark.  There ain't no way my seed didn't root, and I start to tell her
as much, but before I get to she starts telling me she can't wait until
summer and I have to do it to her right there out of season and in private!

   I know better, right?  I start to try to get away from her, but she
grabs my hand and starts rubbing in into her pelt.  It was dripping wet. 
She pushes my fingers up her slit and she's all hot and open.  Then she
drops down on her back and starts poking her mound up at me, pulling open
her slit with her fingers, showing me how ready she is.

   What am I supposed to do?  I feel my shaft start rising, but I say to
myself that I can't do a seeding in private, and there ain't no way I can
do it out of season.  So I tell her I'm not ready to breed, but she takes
one look at my thickening shaft, and she says she knows better.  She
reaches up and starts rubbing my shaft right under its head, and all of a
sudden I don't just want to seed her, I need to pump her full.

   My bulbs are filling up so fast it starts oozing out of the tip of my
shaft.  She sits up and, I swear, she licks the drop off with her tongue!
Then she starts licking all over the head and finally just puts the whole
thing in her mouth and starts sucking on it.  It's incredible!  Her tongue
is rubbing hard under the head and my bulbs are so full they start aching
and I'm thinking I'm gonna fill her mouth full.

   Just before I blow she pops me out of her mouth, lays back and pulls me
down on top of her.  I grab at her hips and pull her up off the ground
while I rip my shaft into her.  We're pounding away, she's screaming like a
slaughtered bird and I'm grunting like an angry pig.  She's got her legs
wrapped around me and her feet are on my butt, pushing me deeper and deeper
into her.  Then I can feel my bulbs start squeezing the seed up and out and
my shaft starts pumping it out of me and into her.  I'm squirting a flood
into her pocket.  Wasted, I figure, but she's wailing and shaking and her
insides are pulling and biting at my shaft, so it's not a total loss.

   My bulbs finally empty and I try to pull out, but she grabs my butt and
keeps me tight inside her, squeezing and milking it until it goes limp and
she squeezes it out.  She reaches down and starts running her fingernails
up and down the underside of it and then she she sit up and puts it in her
mouth again, licking and sucking out any seed that left in there while
squeezing my bulb sac with her other hand.

   I didn't know why she'd say the seeding didn't take when anyone could
see she was planted and growing, but about a month later, she wanted me to
do it again.  What was I supposed to do?

   *

   Melanie's tale :

   All I did was practice.  They told us to practice, so I did.  I just
didn't see what was so wrong with using a real shaft instead of that nasty
mock one.  I couldn't see anything wrong with getting with a breeder and
exercising with his shaft.  I didn't think you could get seeded out of
season.  Anyway, that what I was told.  They said you can't seed out of
season.

   Actually, he said he couldn't seed out of season.

   I guess I first thought about it at the winter seeding.  I was waiting
for the ceremony to begin, looking at the participants.  They were waiting,
legs apart and ready, lying on the seeding beds.  I'd been to the seeding
ceremonies for as long as I could remember, but this time it was different.
I knew that next season I'd be participating.  It would be me on the bed
waiting, and the rest would be watching me.  Already, I was getting nervous
about it.

   I focused on my friend, Celene.  She'd told me all about the
preparations she had to do, like the exercising and the grooming.

   She looked beautiful.  Her pelt was all fluffed and wet, her nipples
were full and rosy and her head was tilted back so her long hair cascaded
back like a waterfall, pooling onto the bed.  Her breasts rose and fell
with her breathing, which was quick in anticipation.

   She didn't have long to wait.  The breeder that was chosen for her came
up from behind her.  I got a full view of hin.  His shoulders were wide,
his chest large and finely covered with fur.  His thick shaft stuck
straight out from his pelt, and his bulb sac was enormous.

   He stood right behind her and leaned over her.  His shaft hung down just
above her, pointing at her face.  He put his hands on her shoulders and
when she opened her eyes, her mouth dropped open at the sight of him and
she flinched visibly.  It looked almost as if he was going to drop his
shaft into her open mouth, but he just snorted and walked over her, then
turned and dropped to his knees between her legs.  Then he fell upon her
and pushed his hips into her.

   She cried aloud at his entry.  He started crushing himself into her
mound over and over, and she screamed with each invasion.  He pounded into
her faster and faster, pushing her across the bed, until he started
grunting with each violent thrust and then his back arched and he fell on
top of her.

   Celene was still screaming, and she continued screaming even after he
pulled himself up and out of her and walked away.  It was probably the most
savage seeding I'd ever seen.  The seed that seeped out from Celene's
swollen mound was streaked with red.  I guessed she hadn't practiced enough
and wasn't as wet as she should have been.

   I watched the other couplings.  Some of the breeders were pumping hard
and fast, others were pushing with long, slow strokes, but few of the
participants seemed to be experiencing much pain.  There was a lot of
motion and groaning and crying, but most of it seemed to be just from the
excitement.  I swore there and then that I'd do whatever I had to do to be
prepared for the seeding.

   I looked at the different techniques of all breeders that day.  Some did
their seeding with gentleness and tenderness; others were fierce and
violent.  I knew that our mates were determined just before the seeding. 
There was no way to know what mine would be like.  I had to plan for the
most violent one.  I had to plan for Celene's breeder.

   So when the instructions began, I listened hard and asked questions when
I didn't understand something.  I really didn't understand why we couldn't
prepare by practicing with the breeders, and I asked why we couldn't. 
They'd told us that the breeders couldn't seed us except during the
ceremony, so why not use them for practice.  All they did was laugh at me.
I figured it was because they hadn't figured that out for themselves.

   When I saw the mock shafts they gave us, I was really disappointed. 
They didn't look anything like the real shafts I'd seen in the ceremony. 
First of all, they were a lot smaller, and besides, they were really cold.
I practiced with it, but it just didn't feel right to me.  I just wasn't
lubricating like I should have.  Worse, I couldn't break my blockage.  I
just wasn 't wet enough, so every time I tried to push it into me, it hurt
so bad I'd have to stop.

   It was about a month before the ceremony, two weeks before my last
evacuatlion, that I started to panic.  I wasn't getting anywhere and I had
to do something, and the only thing I could think of was to get a breeder
to help me.

   I went to the savage one; the one that took Celene.  I thought if I
could get him to help me, I'd be ready for anything.  When I went to him, I
was surprised to see that the shaft that was so huge during the ceremony
dangled small and limp from his pelt.  For a moment I dodn't know what to
do, but I had to do something, so I just started talking.  I told him that
I'd watched him serve during the winter seeding and told him that I was
ready and preparing myself for the spring.  He looked at me strangely, and
said he could see that I was ready and that I looked fine just the way I
was.  I said I was having trouble lubricating and I asked him if he could
do anything to help.

   His eyes widened.  He didn't say anything, but I think he was confused
by my question.  With apprehension in his eyes, he told me he couldn't seed
anyone out of season.  I told him I didn't want him to seed me now, that I
knew he couldn't seed me now.  I just needed help with my lubrication and
could he help me.

   He said it was impossible, that there was nothing he could do except at
the ceremony.  I said that maybe he knew what I was doing wrong with the
mock shaft and he could just help me do it right.  I could see he was
getting anxious.  He angrily repeated that he couldn't seed out of season
and then he turned away.

   I shouted back that I knew he couldn't seed me out of season, that I
didn't want him to seed me out of season, that I only wanted him to help me
with my lubrication because I needed to be able to lubricate because I
didn't want to get torn up the way he tore up Celene and I was scared, real
scared, and then I just sat and started crying because I really was scared.

   He just stood there and looked at me.  Then his eyes closed because he
remembered the winter ceremony.  He quietly said that he was really sorry
he'd performed so brutally.  It was the first time he'd served in the
seeding.  He was very excited and his passion overcame him.  I said I
couldn't imagine how strong the desire to seed can become; he hadn't
realized how powerful his drive was until it overwhelmed him.  He was sad
that Celene was hurt, but afterward he was told that she hadn't prepared
herself properly and he couldn't have helped that.

   I asked him if he couldn't help me.

   He closed his eyes again and exhaled.  When he opened them again I
thought I saw a flash of fear in them.  He asked me what I wanted him to
do.

   I said I wasn't sure.  I only knew that I was supposed to practice with
the mock shaft, and it was supposed to help me make myself wet.  I
suggested that if he could make his shaft hard, he could maybe rub it
against my mound.  I looked down at it and saw that it actually was getting
firmer.

   He got that strange look in his eyes again and started to laugh.  He
said that might be dangerous.  I asked him why.  He just sighed.

   I suggested instead that he should use his hand, and I laid down and
spread my legs and lift my knees.  He shook his head and sat down beside
me, reached down betewwn my legs and put his hand on my mound.  He prodded
me with his middle finger and I was very dry, so he put the finger in his
mouth to wet it, and then he prodded some more.  He worked his finger up
and down my furrow, trying to tickle me into lubricating, I guess.  Then he
touched that spot that Rosemary told us about later, and I jumped and
pushed him away.

   It took us both by surprise.  He told me I had to relax and I thought,
if I could relax, I wouldn't be lying here with his hand between my legs. I
told him I'd try and took a deep breath.  My breasts rose, and my left
nipple brushed against his forearm.  I shivered, my eyelids fluttered, the
nipple got hard, and I felt myself suddenly getting wet!  I moved my back
to rub the nipple against his arm and I got wetter.  I pulled his hand up
and pressed it against my breast and the nipple pulsed into his palm.  He
began to kneed and squeeze it.  I started getting really wet and my hips
started to make these involuntary little jerks.

   That's when I felt something against my hip.  I looked down and saw his
shaft pushing against me, about half as large as it was the day of the
seeding, rising up from his pelt and getting larger.

   His hands were becoming more active on my body, and his breathing became
short and heavy.  My breathing was coming in shorter gasps as well.  I
stared at his shaft, growing and firming to the size I remembered it,
bobbing up and down with his breathing.  I wanted to touch it, just to know
what if felt like.  It didn't look as hard and cold as the mock shaft.  I
dropped my hand onto his chest and and slid it slowly down to his stomach.
I know he felt and saw what I was doing, because his breathing got even
quicker.  He didn't stop me.

   When my hand reached the hollow in his pelt where the shaft began to jut
out, he grunted.  I looked up, and his eyes were shut and his mouth was
open, breathing heavily.  Still, he didn't seem to want me to stop.  I ran
my fingertips along the top of the shank and found it was really a lot
softer than the hard mock shaft they gave us.  The purple head was really
soft and cushiony.  I curled my fingers around the thickness of it, feeling
its underside, and when I touched just under the head, it suddenly jumped
and he groaned loudly.

   He bent himself closer to me and caressed my breast and mound with an
increasing urgency, causing a glowing warmth to rise in me.  I began to
moan as the fire spread through me; my back writhed and and my hips jerked
up and down, urging him to press harder and deeper.  I wrapped my hand
tightly around his shaft and intently stroked under the head with my
fingertips.

   Suddenly fell onto his back and pulled me onto him, crushing my breasts
to his chest.  I ground my nipples into him.  His arms slid down my back
and his fingers dug into my bottom as he lifted my thrusting hips above
his. His head bent down into the hollow of my neck and I felt his clenched
teeth as his lips nipped my skin.  His knees came up and jammed between
mine, spreading my legs apart.  I coiled around him.  He pulled my hips
down and I felt the head of his shaft dip into the folds of my mound.  I
knew he was about to ram himself into me, but I didn't care.  All I knew
was that the feeling of his shaft pressing up into my dripping furrow was
causing the flames to lick inside me.

   He thrust hinself sharply up, but the shaft slipped too low and it slid
through the crevice between my buttocks.  I pressed my mound tight to his
pelt, feeling the bristles rub into my cleft.  We both pulled back for the
penetrating thrust and then we crashed together.  The shaft again missed
and slid up between us against my stomach, burying itself tightly into our
entwined pelts.

   Then it started to throb and thick spurts of warm fluid suddenly started
gushing out of it.  His entire body spasmed and his back arched up.  His
hips lifed me as they jerked up and down, thrusting himself against my
stomach, squirting the oil up so forcefully that I felt it spatter onto my
breasts.  His hands clutched my hips and pulled me tightly to him and I was
consumed by the fire deep within me as we pounded into each other.

   Our thrashing slowed and finally our convulsing hands relaxed.  For a
while we just lay there exhausted, our hearts pounding and swallowing great
gulps of air.  I'd collapsed on top of him with my head on his chest and
his shaft still pressed between us.

   As the heat began to fade and I came back to reality, I began to realize
what had happened.  I sat up and looked at the slick stickiness that
covered my stomach and breasts, then I looked down at the source of the
mess.  The shaft was shrinking back to its deceptively passive size.  His
eyes were closed, and he breathing was becoming a snore.  I shook his
shoulders and started yelling at him.  What was this stuff?  Was it his
seed?  Didn't he say he couldn't seed out of season?

   He said he didn't know if was seed or if it was potent.  Long ago he
asked the same questions that all the young ones ask when they have their
first discharge.  All they're told is that they can't seed out of season
and not to try to force discharge.  If they ask any more questions, they're
beaten.  All he knew is that we shouldn't be doing what we were doing. 
Still, even if it was seed, it couldn't take root unless it was pushed up
through my mound canal into my breeding pocket.

   I got up and, without speaking a word, left him and went down to the
river to rinse off the caking discharge.  I was lucky that nobody saw me
along the way.  I also realized how fortunate I was that I'd not been
seeded then and there.  I was shaken by the forcefulness, not of him, but
of the feelings that had overwhelmed me to the point that I'd have stuffed
his shaft into me if fortune hadn't slid it upward instead of in.

   Yet the heat that had passed between us had made me wet.  I began to
lubricate even while remembering the danger.  Maybe I was actually
lubricating because of the danger.

   That night I did my exercises, knees up and legs spread.  I pretended he
was kneeling there between them.  I felt his arms reaching down to my
breasts, his hand on my nipples, his fingers squeezing and pinching.  I
felt his arms reaching down to my pelt, his hands separating the folds of
my mound, his fingers stroking the length of the cleft.  I pinched my
nipples and stoked my furrow and the warmth filled me, flooded me,
saturated me.  I began to shake and my hips began to jerk the way they did
that afternoon.  The warmth flowed though me until the spasms took over my
being and my pelt was drenched with my fluids.  Over and over, I made the
spasms come.

   I lifted the mock shaft, imagining it to be his, and placed it in the
folds and stroked within the cleft.  It was cold.  I went cold.  I tried to
pretend it was his shaft and I curled my hand around it and caressed it
under its head.  It was cold and lifeless.  It was no use.

   Every time I tried to use the mock shaft to break the membrane, I dried
up.  I even tried to force it into me without lubrication, but it was so
painful that I couldn't even get the shaft between my folds without
wincing. That's when the idea hit me.  I could let his shaft break the
barrier.

   If I made sure that his shaft and bulbs were drained before we began, he
could push his shaft into me and break the membrane without seeding me. 
He'd said thet he thought the seed wasn't mature out of season, anyway.  At
the very worst, he'd have to pull the shaft out of me before he discharged.

   I had to see him again.  In spite of the danger.

   I went to him the next day.  When he saw me, there was a sudden sparkle
in his eyes, but it disappeared as soon as it came.  Then there was only
anxiety.  Before I could say a word he said he couldn't help me anymore
because of what happened the last time.  It was dangerous, he said.  He
told me he wanted me to go and never come back.

   Even as he told me he I had to leave, his shaft began to rise.  I moved
closer to him and told him how much he'd helped me so far and how much I'd
appreciated it and how there really wasn't that much I was asking him to
do. I told him that I only wanted to touch him, and as I said that I
pressed myself up against him and reached one hand behind him to stroke his
back.  At the same time my other hand took his shaft and massaged it under
the head.

   As I expected, he didn't pull away.  His breath froze and his eyes
closed and he whispered his lament about not being able to seed me out of
season.  I whispered back that he'd already told me that and that it was
okay and there was no danger.  He sighed, and only then did he
half-heartedly try to pull away.  I took his hand and pressed it to the
underside of my breast.  He held the weight of it, then moved up to caress
my nipple.  His other arm went around me to fill his hand with my buttock,
lifing me, crushing me to him.

   He carried me to his bed and dropped me onto it.  He quckly laid across
me, pressing his knees between mine, and I suddenly felt his shaft pressing
down on my mound, ready for entry.

   I cried out for him to wait and I pushed his shoulders up and away from
me.  I sat us both up on the bed so his rigid shaft was right at my face. I
took it with both hands, stroked up and down it's length, paying special
attention to his sensitive spot.  Then I leaned in, closed my mouth around
the shaft, and started sucking at it, trying to pull all the seed out of
it.

   I guess it made him feel good, because he started to grunt and howl. 
His breathing quickened, his hips started twitching and his bulbs began to
empty.  The shaft begin its quivering, and he began to jab his shaft with
such force that I had a bit of trouble keeping in my mouth.

   The first spurt of seed forced itself into the back of my throat, and I
had to swallow quickly to keep from gagging.  All I could think of was that
if the shaft was in my mound instead of my mouth, the seed would have
surely flooded my breeding pocket and spawned.  The next few spurts were
just as powerful.  I didn't realize how much of it there had been and, even
swallowing as much as I could, a lot of it dripped out of my mouth and down
onto my breasts.

   Soon the spurts came less forcefully, so I sucked at the shaft and I
squeezed his seed bulbs to be sure to pull out every bit of his seed.  He
continued to moan and grunt and thrust his shaft into my mouth.  He grabbed
my head with my hands and almost pushed himself right down into my throat,
but I pulled back and contuned to suck until I was sure I couldn't taste
his seed anymore.

   I then quickly fell back on the bed, spread my legs apart and raised my
mound.  I reached up and pulled him down on top of me.  I grabbed his
shaft, positioned the tip between the folds of my cleft and I thrust my
hips up to him as he forced himself down.

   And the pain ripped through me, and I screamed.  I could feel that the
head of his shaft was burried in my furrow but he wasn't through the
membrane.  He knew he'd hurt me and the memory of Celene must have flashed
through his head because he froze.  I looked up at him and said that it was
going to be tougher than I'd thought, but he had to do it.

   He reared back for a second attack.  He jabbed down again and again I
screamed.  This time, he'd buried himself deeper, but still most of him was
still without.  I think he realized then that he wasn't going to gain entry
unless he tore into me, or he tried something else.

   He began to rotate his hips, nestling the tip into in my crevice as far
it it would go without pain.  He then bent his head down and took one of my
nipples into his mouth and began to gently suck it while he slowly and
lightly prodded the head of his shaft in and out of the split.  My hips
began to jerk up to meet each jab.  His suckling became more intense; his
jabbing became more forceful and my hips pushed at him more and more
ardently.

   Soon I was driving myself up to him with a raptured intensity.  Nothing
else in the universe mattered except to have his shaft deep within me.  My
entire being flowed with the sensuous rhythm of our hips beating against
each other, the head of his shaft battering up againt the barrier that
blocked its entry into my mound.  As the force of the thrusts increased to
a fury the tempo slowed and I cried aloud with each crushing blow, not from
pain but from the thrill of his shaft penetrating deeper into me with each
burning stab.  After each strike, I swung myself away and down as he slid
the shaft slowly up through the slick crevice, rubbing deep against my
sensitive spot, making me scream with desire.  His hips swung up and the
shaft pulled away, then he swung down and hammered in, just as I swung up
so the shaft spiked across and into the cleft, pressing his sensitive spot
deep into me, making him grunt with passion as he bit and sucked at my
nipple.

   My fingers dug into his buttocks, pulling him into me.  His fingers dug
into my shoulders to pull me to him.  Each thrust pushed the head deeper
into me.  I felt my furrow engulfing first the head, then a bit of the
shaft, then more.  Then he gave a mighty thrust and buried himself almost
half-way into me.

   My eyes widened and my breathing stopped in mid-cry when I realized he'd
broken through and had jammed himself into my tight passage.  I could feel
myself spasming around the massive shaft, tightening and squeezing him.  He
pulled back and, roaring mightily, stabbed his thickness into the narrow
channel even more deeply.  Then he thrust again and our pelts intertwined
as he forced me open, driving his shaft its full length into me.

   I was astounded by the immense fullness lodged stiffly inside of me,
stretching me to bursting, yet even as gorged as I was, I wanted more.  My
legs came up and around his to push him even more deeply into me.  With my
hands on his bottom, I pressed him down.  I wanted him to fill me even
more. I arched my back and pushed my bottom up off the bed to contain as
much of him as I could.

   My cavity tensed and constricted over and over, pulling him deeper into
me, holding him tighter in me, making me sigh and whimper in bliss as the
heat rolled through me.  Each squeeze made him moan and push himself harder
and deeper into me.

   We drove and thrusted and pounded against each other.  He drilled
himself down into me, digging his shaft deep into the canal within me and I
lifted myself up to him, spreading my legs wider and wider apart to swallow
as much of him into me as I could.  His bulb sac beat hard against my
bottom as he hammmered into me and I thrust up to meet each piercing. 
Together we moaned and cried with the fever of our fusion.

   His moans became more passionate and his seed bulbs began to flutter and
quiver.  Then I I suddenly felt his thrusting shaft jerk inside me.  It
jerked again, and then it began to throb and spasm as it twitched.  It felt
exactly as if it was pumping his seed into me, but I knew that couldn't be
because I'd sucked all the seed from him before we coupled.  Still, he
groaned as his hips spasmed down and I felt the shaft pulsate as it jammed
itself even further up into me.  h My channel was still contracting on the
shaft, and as the shaft pulsed and throbbed, my hips began to automatically
beat against him and then the fire again seared through me.  I pounded
myself up to him as he hammered into me, my mound milking his pumping
shaft, my voice shrieking in joy.  He rammed his shaft into me on last
time, held it deep inside, and the shaft pumped and shook as he bellowed
his passion.  He then collapsed on me, his shaft still quivering and
pulsing inside me, and I felt the fluids of our ecstasy draining from me
and onto my thighs.

   As I lay there with my arms and legs around him, the fires in me faded
to be replaced by a different kind of burning between my legs.  With each
flutter of his shaft, I felt the stinging pain of the wound left from the
ruptured membrane.  I thought about the way his shaft had pulsed inside me
and the moistness flowing from between my legs.  I wondered if he could
have issued seed and impregnated me.  I pulled his head up off my shoulder
and I asked him.  Did he discharge into me?  Did he spurt seed with enough
force to get it up into my breeding pocket?

   He said that it had felt as if he had, but he didn't think he could have
released any seed after I'd just emptied his bulbs into my mouth.  It was
probably just a natural reaction to the friction.  Even if he had pumped
his seed into me, it couldn't have been much and certainly couldn't have
been mature enought to root and spawn.

   I still felt umcomfortable.  I imagined my pocket flooded and
impregnated, his seed sprouting and budding and growing inside me, pushing
out and inflating my belly.  I wondered how I could explain it, how I could
even try to keep it a secret.  I began to think that this was a really big
mistake.

   I looked up at him and thanked him for his help and told him how nice
he'd been to me.  I said it seemed I was lubricating fine now and he'd done
a great job breaking my barrier, so I didn't think I'd need his help
anymore and could he please get off me now because I was really sore.

   He looked down at me, frowning.  I could tell he was disappointed that
the work was done and I felt his shaft begin to shrink.  He pulled himself
up and slowly pulled his shaft out of me.  I shivered as it slid up and
rubbed against the sensitive knob.  Then it was gone and I suddenly felt
empty and abandoned.

   I missed the fullness of him in me and I ached for it to be back inside
of me.

   As I got up off the bed, he asked if I was sure I wouldn't be back.  I
said probably not.  He smiled.  As I left, he called to me that he hoped my
seeding in the spring went well.

   That night, even with the soreness, the mock shaft fit into me easily. I
jammed it in amd out of me, twisting and turning it, trying to simulate the
throbbing of his shaft.  It was no use.  I longed for his hands on my
breasts, my hands on his buttocks, our pelts interweaved.  I craved him
within me.

   I got up and went to his hut.  Through the darkness, I saw him lying on
his back in his bed, sleeping fitfully.  His head swung back and forth and
he whispered in whimpers aod moans.  His shaft stood rigid, thrusting
straight up from his pelt, and his hips twitched in his sleep.

   I knelt at the side of the bed, bent my head over the shaft and
surrounded it with my lips.  He groaned as I pressed my tongue tight to the
underside and began sucking.  He pushed himself up and down and my head
bobbed with his rhythm.  His moaning became more distinct and I felt his
hands on my head stroking my hair.

   While I held him in my mouth, sucking and licking him, I slid up onto
the bed and straddled his legs.  I rubbed my hands up along his stomach and
buried them in the fur on his chest.  His moans became cries and it wasn't
long before the shaft began its pulsing and pumping.  He gushed a lot more
of the thick, salty fluid than he did that afternoon.  Much of it ran down
my chin and spilled out into his pelt.

   As soon as I'd sucked him dry, I released him from my lips and I
slithered up the length of his body.  flattening the slick shaft between us
as I pressed my body to his.  It slipped tightly between my breasts and
pressed into my stomach before nestling in my pelt.  I lifed my hips and
the shaft rose up and slid snugly between the folds of my moist cleft.  I
drove myself down and cried out as it gouged itself tightly into my
contracting channel.  I pounded my hips down to him, meeting each of his
piercing thrusts amd the shaft stabbed again and again into my clenching
canal, sending the fire in waves searing through me.

   As he did that afternoon, his thrusts became more savage and insistent
and then the shaft throbbed and spasmed inside me.  The blazing heat in me
flashed and exploded and I felt my fluids flow from me and drain out into
our meshed pelts.  I collapsed onto his heaving chest, my insides spasming
on his twitching shaft.

   He rolled us over, still coupled, so he was above me, and began stroking
slowly in and out.  As his rhythm increased, the fire rekindled and flared
until I wrapped my legs around his back and was fully consumed by the
passion.  He bore down, pounding himself into me over and over, and again I
felt the shaft beating and pumping inside me as I shook and spasmed
underneath him.

   He pulled his still-rigid shaft out of me then and I felt my fluids
streaming out of me.  He quickly flipped me over onto my stomach, grabbed
my hips and pulled me up so I was kneeling on edge of the bed while he
stood behind me on the floor.  I screamed as he suddenly rammed himself
deeply into me from behind.

   His fingers dug deeply into my thighs as he rapidly jerked me back and
forth, stabbing himself into me again and again.  The shaft practically
pulled out totally, then jabbed in so fully and deeply with such a force
and speed that it felt like he was filling me with lightning, and I shook
over and over in seizures of bliss that roared through me.

   I lifted myself up onto my hands and shoved myself back into him.  I
felt his bulb sack swunging up to beat against my pelt in time with the
swinging of my breasts.  He reached down and crushed my breasts into his
hands, his fingers squeezing and pinching my nipples.

   His thrusts began to slow but became much more violent and he grunted
loudly with each brutal attack.  Finally he bellowed over and over and his
hammering shaft once again throbbed and spasmed inside me.  In my
excitment, I imagined feeling thick jets of his seed pumping out of him and
into me, racing up through the passage and taking root in my breeding
pocket.  I imagined that it was his seed filling me to overflowing and
running down my thighs.  The fire swept through me and I shuddered in
rapture.

   He fell onto the bed, exhausted, but I seized his shrinking shaft,
stuffed it back into me.  I ground my hips, milking and squeezing it until
it swelled and firmed within me.  Soon we were again pounding at each other
and the euphoric spasms engulfed me over and over.

   We spent that entire night with his shaft inside me.  In the morning, I
left and went to the river to wash the sticky remains of our passion from
my body and to soothe the soreness that was beginning to burn between my
legs.

   I sat in the water and separated the folds of my furrow to let the
coolness wash into me.  As filmy streaks of white began to float atop the
surface of the water, I again wondered about the way his shaft throbbed
inside me.  It pulsed and spasmed at least five times that night, and once
I even thought I felt the gushing heat of his seed filling me.  I decided
that it was silly to worry about it now.  Probably he was right and it
wasn't mature enough to root.

   Then again, neither of us had considered that maybe my breeding pocket
couldnt't absorb seed out of season.  It that was the case, it would just
pour harmlessly out of me.  That began to make a lot of sense to me.  There
was sure a lot of liquid pouring out from between my legs last night, too
much to be just from me.  Since it was coming out, it must not be staying
in.  A wave of relief swept over me.  It was quickly replaced by an intense
hunger to have him back inside me.

   I went home, slept most of the day, and that night I returned to him. 
This time he was awake, lying on his back on his bed, his shaft standing
firm and ready.  He obviously knew I'd be there.  I know he was expecting
me to kneel down and put him into my mouth, but instead I lay down next to
him, drew my legs apart and pulled him onto me.

   He didn't stop to think.  He immediately thrust himself into me and we
both cried out at his penetration.  After only a few strokes, his shaft
began its twitching and I felt it jerk mightily as gush after gush of his
seed charged into me.  The force of the spasms shocked me and I was
immediately ravaged as the flames of my passion rose up within me, sending
wave after wave searing through me.

   The shaft continued to jerk and pound, surging his release deep into me.
The thick syrup welled within me to overflowing and I felt it squirting out
of me, spattering onto my legs and my buttocks and my stomach.  Still he
throbbed, pumping great spurts of his essence down my convulsing, milking
passage.

   The shaft finally stopped beating, but he remained rigid inside me.  He
wrapped his arms around me and lifted me, still impaled on his spiking
member.  He stood and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he jerked me up
and down, jabbing himself into me again and again.  My own weight drove him
deeper and deeper into me and I screamed as the blaze of rapture enveloped
me.

   Soon I felt him tightening and I knew he'd be exploding inside me again.
He dropped me onto his table so I was lying with my bottom at the edge and
he could pound into me while he was standing next to it.  He grabbed my
ankles, pulled my legs wide apart and stabbed into me so deeply that I was
sure he'd penetrated into my breeding pocket.  Then he again began to jerk
inside me and, roaring, he drove his inseminating fluid into my craving
cavity.

   All that night we pounded at each other as he pumped his seed into my
screaming, convlusing body from above, from below, from behind.  For almost
two weeks his shaft discharged into me five or six times a night.  Every
now and then, I'd start to worry that his seed had rooted inside me and I
was carrying a child, but most of the time I knew there was no way that he
could plant a baby inside me.  Neither he nor I could breed out of season,
so we were safe.  If it wasn't, well, I guess that increased the
excitement.

   Then it was time for the flow.  The night before my pocket was supposed
to evacuate, I told him I had to go to the river with the rest.  He frowned
and told me he'd miss me, but I said it would only be a couple of days.

   The next day came and went, but my evacuation didn't begin like it was
supposed to.  I started to worry, but it really wasn't too strange to be a
day out of agreement.  When the evening of the second day came and I hadn't
begun yet, I decided to go down to the river anyway, figuring it had to
start after I got there.

   But it didn't.  I tried to hide that I wasn't evacuating by staying by
myself in the water most of the time.  It pretty much worked, too, except a
couple of people made comments about how light my flow was that month.  I
just sort of nodded.

   I tried to listen to some of the conversations around me, trying to keep
my mind off of what I knew was growing inside me, but I kept thinking about
it.  What kind of spawn would I breed having been seeded out of season? 
Would it be sickly?  Would it kill me in childbirth?  Would it die unripe
inside me?

   After a couple of days and everybody else had finished, I left the
river, relieved that my secret hadn't been discovered.

   Instead of going home, I went straight away to tell him that his seed
and my pocket were quite fertile out of season and that he'd planted a
child inside me.  When I got to his hut, tho, he wasn't there, so I waited,
sitting on his bed.

   I looked down at the bed I was sitting on, the dirty, straw-covered spot
where the baby inside me had been conceived, and then I thought about the
brightly colored pillows that adorned the beds during the seeding ceremony.
My eyes filled with tears and I fell across the bed sobbing.  All the fears
of the past few days washed over me and I cried myself to sleep.

   I dreamed of him, of his hands on my breasts, on my buttocks, of his
shaft spiking into me, flooding me with torrents of seed.  I dreamed I felt
the seed course through me and burrow into the walls of my breeding pocket.
I felt it grow, filling my pocket, pushing out, arching my stomach.  I felt
it swell and ripen and slide out of me.  I lifted the baby and took it to
my breast.  As it suckled, he again thrust himself into me and I felt him
plant another child inside me.  It too grew and swelled and slid from me. I
placed it at my other breast.

   I held a child in either arm, their lips sucking on my nipples and again
he thrust himself into me.  He drove into me and I ached to have him plant
another baby inside me.  I screamed and begged and pleaded for him to fill
me with his seed, to make babies inside me.

   The fire flashed through me and I shuddered with the euphoria of the
fullness inside me and the mouths at my breasts.  I felt surrounded by
heat. There were hands on my buttocks, on my hips, on my breasts, storking
and squeezing at me.  The mouths left my breasts and suddenly I was rolling
about so I was lying on his stomach with him thrusting up into me.

   The hands on my bottom pried my buttocks apart and I suddenly felt a
pressure against the opening there.  At the same time the hands on my
breasts moved up to my head and pulled my mouth open.  His shaft forced
itself into my throat at the same time his shaft wedged into my bottom, all
while his shaft oddly sliced in and out of my mound.

   I was awake.  In the darkness there were at least three breeders, maybe
more.  As the shaft tore into my bottom, I tried to scream, but it was
strangled as the shaft filling my mouth slipped deeper down my throat.  The
shaft in my mound began to throb and gush as it stabbed up at me and soon
it started toshrink.  The hands above on my hips pulled me up and the body
below me slipped out from under, only to be replaced by another breeder who
jabbed himself up into my mound and hammered his hips at me.

   Both the other shafts started pulsing simultaneously and I was filled
top and bottom, sending me over the edge again.  They pulled out, then two
others took their places.  Over and over I was pierced and mauled.  I lost
count how many different shafts swelled and emptied into me, but I knew
none of them belonged to the breeder whose bed I was on.

   When the spurting of the last one finally ebbed, they all disappeared,
leaving me dripping and shuddering in a pool of sweat and seed.  I dragged
my brused and aching body home and I slept a dreamless sleep.

   I never again saw the breeder whose baby I carried.  I don't know what
happened to him.  Maybe one of the other breeders found out what'd I'd done
and he was punished.  Their ways are so strange.

   I missed him so.  I'd grown to crave the feeling of the shaft inside me,
and I tried many times to get another breeder to seed me, but no one would
even allow me to speak to them.  Waiting for the day of the ceremony was
torture.

   After the ceremony, after I realized I wouldn't again feel that fullness
within until long after I'd delivered, I sought out the breeder who was
chosen as my seeding partner, and he relented.  For a few weeks, the memory
of his body upon mine kept me satisfied, but the cravings came back and I
again coerced him to put his seed into me.  I tried to stay away, but I
always came back until we were together almost every night.

   If anyone was aware of my night travels, no one ever mentioned it. 
Maybe they all ignored it.  They couldn't ignore the fact that of everyone
who'd been seeded in the spring, I delivered first.  The first fruit is
always named the Gifted, but everyone assumed it would be Rosemary, and I
guess having it be me got some people suspicious.

   Marnie made the accusation that I'd been seeded early, nd then it got
real nasty, especially after it turned out that the breeder who planted the
baby inside me had been seeding Marnie while she was carrying his baby last
year.  She was real upset about his punishment.

   A lot of the breeders went away after that, including the one I'd been
seeing.  Since my baby was to be a breeder, he went away, too.  I'll be in
agreement again after my next flow, so I'll participate in the next
seeding. Waiting is painful, but it won't be too long.


                       -------the end-------


Other Wollstonecraft stories:

 1. Appleseed.............(bad seed manipulates twin sisters)
 2. Birthday gift, the....(girl seduces her legal guardian)
 3. Coercion..............(adultery at gunpoint)
 4. Divine gift, the......(confessor satisfies female parishioner)
 5. Family................(grim and ironic tale of hospital sex)
 6. Fruit of the vine.....(drunk girl gets taken for a ride) 
 7. Fruition..............(boy next door ready to be of service)
 8. Honeymoon.............(blushing bride with a twist )
 9. Novice................(sexual awakening of a girl in a convent)
10. Occupation............(virgin services the troops in France)
11. Party.................(six teens play spin the computer)
12. Peer Pressure.........(girl goes too far on a date)
13. Quickening............(stone age sex intrigue)
14. Reasons...............(memorable one night stand)
15. Safe sex..............(young couple forgetting the condom)
16. Tales of the seeding..(mating customs getting hairy)
17. Ten Dollar Fine.......(girl gets in trouble in a southern jail)
18. Wedding gift, the.....(bride to be learns the facts of life )
19. Yang reception........(girl obeys cultleader all the way )
  
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not to be used by commercial sites.  Persons using this material for
commercial sites will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. 
--------------------------------(C)2001------------------------------------


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