The Last American Male

Author's Note: This story could reasonably be classified under Nonconsent or Fetish (Tease and Denial) or perhaps even some other category like SciFi. I think Fetish is the best spot, but will offer an apologetic shrug if readers think differently. Happy reading!

*

"Wake up, sleepyhead!"

The guard tapped my bunk with her police baton. I opened one eye and sighed. Six women were standing over my bed, all fit and strong and alert for one wrong move on my part.

"Will it be the easy way today or the hard way?" the leader said. She had short red hair and was probably in her mid-thirties. I had no idea what her name was, so in my mind I just thought of her as 'Red'.

I rolled over and looked up. All of my usual guards were here, ready to gang up on me if necessary. Blonde, Brunette, Petite, Desi, and Greek, all backing up Red. Maybe I didn't have much imagination these days on nicknames, but imagination wasn't a necessary survival trait for me in this place.

"Let's go easy," I mumbled. I pulled the blanket off of me, completely nude except for my chastity harness, and I slowly sat up on the bed so as not to alarm anyone. I'd learned the hard way that these women were very assertive if threatened, and as a man I certainly threatened them. I put my hands up on my head to avoid trouble.

"Permission to rise?" I asked.

The women positioned themselves in a half-circle around me. "Permission to rise," said Red.

I stood slowly. Blonde was the tallest of the guards, and she was still a good four inches shorter than me. Petite was almost a foot smaller. One on one, I could overpower any of them, but they showed good teamwork and training. I'd figured that out a couple of dozen times over the past two years, hence their caution with me and vice versa.

"Move over to the milking frame," Red ordered. "Move slowly."

The words ripped into my psyche. How had my existence come down to this? I had done nothing wrong. History had just conspired against me. I wanted to scream, to yell, to run away from this place back into my old existence. But I had no choices here. It was fruitless. It was hopeless.

It was my life now.

The chastity harness hung heavy on my cock and balls as I moved, its bulk and weight making it difficult for me to walk. I hated the thing, but it was the only way I could get released from the milking frame. They had to release me, give me some exercise and movement if they wanted to keep me alive, but they also couldn't have me pleasuring myself and spilling my precious seed. So I wore this horrible device every night.

I stepped over to the frame and reluctantly climbed aboard. I didn't feel like fighting today. I climbed up two small steps and then raised my knees onto two round padded platforms that were slightly more than shoulder width apart. Then I bent over and stretched my arms forward, letting my chest and upper stomach rest on a long, narrow bar. As soon as I did this, the women were all over me. Two cuffed my hands to the end of the frame, one ran a padded bar around my neck to lock it in place, and several others bound my knees, feet, and hips. Red pulled my head up so that I was looking straight ahead, and fastened a strap around my forehead to keep my eyes pointing forward. The result was that I was on my knees, bent forward and stretched, my ass high and my priceless genitals dangling free and vulnerable inside their abominable sheath. I faced away from the door so that upper management could occasionally peek in at my work without me seeing them; as a result my view was limited to the blank back wall of my cell and a large 8 x 8 padded mat on the floor.

Brunette stepped forward and unlocked the chastity device. I disliked Brunette the least of all the guards. She was attractive like all the others, a mid-sized bombshell with nice breasts and slender curvy hips, but that wasn't why she was the best. She met her quotas just like everyone else, but somehow she seemed a bit gentler, a bit more sympathetic to my plight. She and I even sometimes held conversations while she worked, to the extent that I could talk.

I groaned in relief as the sheath slid off, and my cock popped up. Being morning, I naturally had an erection, but the chastity device had kept it painfully constrained.

"You have a great erection this morning," Brunette observed from behind me. Reaching under and between my legs, she ran her grip loosely up and down it. "I'll be your first shift milker."

"Please," I gasped in pleasure at her soft hands. "Please keep doing that."

Brunette giggled and removed her hand, stroking my balls on her way out. My spread thighs flexed involuntarily.

"Okay," Red said behind me. "Bring in today's show."

The cell door opened and I heard the slight padding of bare feet behind me.

"Oh, my god," a woman gasped breathlessly behind me. "It's a man! It's really a man!"

I pulled against my bonds in frustration. It was all so humiliating. These women, whoever, they were, were staring straight at my spread ass and dangling cock and balls, and there was nothing I could do about it. Yesterday had been a shaving day so I felt even more vulnerable and exposed.

With a bit of shuffling, two women appeared in front of me, wide-eyed, giggling, and goggling at my nude and bound body. One looked to be still a teenager, brunette and adorably cute, and the other was much older, a sophisticated blonde of about 35. Both were nude, and my eyes cycled between the impossibly perky breasts and shaved mound of the brunette and the full mature breasts and small shock of light maple pubic hair on the blonde. The guard that I called Desi, a high-energy busty type with cocoa skin and a Bollywood figure, stepped forward and worked with the blonde to attach a large strap-on dildo around her waist and hips. The guard I called Blonde worked with the guard called Petite to handcuff the young brunette's hands behind her back.

My ass was spread wide, and I jumped as a touch of something cold hit my anus. Brunette began lubing me up. "No, no, NO!" I cried in frustration. I knew it was coming, but that first touch was so dehumanizing.

"Relax, dear," Brunette said soothingly. "I'll be nice to you." As she spoke, the girl I called Greek attached a collection sphere to the head of my penis, the elastic band sealing against my girth just where my shaft and head met. The sphere had a tube that ran to a collection jar, ensuring that they wouldn't lose a single drop of my sperm. Greek was one of the smaller guards, maybe 5-4 or so, with a smooth and sultry aura about her. Her accent and demeanor was thoroughly American, but her beautiful dark eyes and wavy long hair pointed to a Hellenic ancestry. She was going to be my first-shift teaser.

Ahead of me, the guards were positioning and instructing the two guests. On Red's signal, they stepped close and kissed, and then the blonde slowly guided the young brunette to the ground. The brunette brought her legs up in a submissive gesture of surrender, and the blonde guided her strap-on dildo to the appropriate spot. They began fucking and my long-denied cock was instantly painfully hard. With my head and neck secured, I couldn't look away.

Everything was now in place, and the four guards at the back of the cell left, leaving me to watch the two showgirls copulate. The two guards remaining in the room began the inevitable. First, Greek's slender fingers, warm and oiled, wrapped around my desperate cock, fondling it slowly. Then, to my chagrin, I felt a finger at my pucker. Brunette slowly applied pressure and entered me.

"Nnnnnh," I grunted.

"Don't worry," Brunette said. "I'll be gentle."

On the mat ahead of me, the young teen was on her back, her slender legs wrapped around the older blonde's waist. The older blonde was building up a rhythm with the strap-on, and shifted her hands to play with the younger girl's nipples. I could hear the slap of hips on hips, and the slight wet smack of female arousal.

Greek reached up and tweaked my own nipples, one then the other, as her other hand slowly squeezed and worked my shaft. She leaned down into my ear. "Do you like your showgirls today?"

I wished I could move my hips. If I could only move my hips...

Greek continued. "The one on the bottom is named Jennifer. She's from Indiana and is only 18 years old. Can you even imagine how tight she is?"

Brunette was massaging my prostate internally, and was now starting to push a second finger into me.

"The one on top is Diane. Diane was a lesbian even before she had to be. She's always liked girls. Can you just imagine what she's going to do to Jennifer today? Jennifer is going to be helpless with her hands cuffed like that."

My cock was already throbbing. Greek had a way with words, but it almost didn't matter. I had two women working my sensitive areas and was watching a lesbian pounding a cute young woman. It should have been heaven.

But of course it wasn't.

One of Brunette's warm, oiled hands closed on my balls, my precious balls. She cupped them and stimulated them even as Greek released my cock. I groaned in frustration as Greek moved briefly to my nipples, tweaking and flicking them. On the mat, young Jennifer was beginning to make high-pitched grunts as Diane leaned in to nibble her throat.

"We have flow," Brunette observed.

I knew what that meant. They were milking me of semen, massaging my prostate while keeping me aroused. Just like every day, this was going to continue interminably, with guards switching out every two hours to keep themselves fresh while exhausting me. I groaned with the strange combination of pleasure and frustration that came with the milking.

"For the love of god, just let me cum once," I pleaded. "I'll do anything."

"No can do," Greek said. She kissed me on the ear and nibbled my lobe. "But I'll let you lick my titties in another hour or so if you want."

"Okay." Different combinations of guards gave me different benefits and punishments. Greek and Brunette were among the nicest. When they were working together, they would let me lick their nipples and breasts while I was tied. Red and Petite, on the other hand, were all business. And as cruel as it was, I almost looked forward to sessions with Brunette and Desi, because they would sometimes climb up on the platform and let me perform cunnilingus on them.

But regardless of anything else, there was one rule. I could never have an orgasm, and I didn't know why.

On the mat in front of me, Diane pulled out of Jennifer. She spun the younger girl so her feet faced me, and sat on Jennifer's face. Giving me a wink, she said, "Lick me," then smiled beatifically as her temporary slave followed orders. Diane reached down, grabbed Jennifer's ankles, and pulled them up toward her chest to give me a full-on view of Jennifer's hairless pussy. It was gorgeous, fat peach lips crowded within narrow hips. I wanted it so bad, writhing there on the mat barely six feet away.

But it was never going to happen, and this was how it went every day. They would bring in showgirls to entertain me while the teaser stroked me and the milker milked me.

Every.

Single.

Day.

But then something different happened.

Without warning, I heard the cell door open behind me. There were footsteps and then the other four guards came in: Red, Blonde, Desi, and Petite. They stood in a row next to the mat, and I could sense an air of excitement. What was going on?

The cell door opened again, and a troop of heel clacks indicated more women entering the room. I winced; more women looking straight into my ass and dangling balls.

"Is everything going well today?" asked an unfamiliar voice behind me.

I couldn't see Brunette behind me, but Greek looked surprised and concerned. "Yes," she answered. "We've got flow and it's on schedule." She removed her hands from me, and with a flinch I was relieved to have Brunette's fingers suddenly out of my rectum.

I heard footsteps approach, and then suddenly there was a woman standing in front of me. She wore a civilian business suit and looked to be in her early 50s, tall and lean with ultra-short blonde hair that accented an attractive angular face. She bent over to look into my eyes, temporarily blocking my view of the face-sitting Diane.

"Hello, Mr. Watson," she said.

I frowned back at her. I had no idea who she was and I didn't welcome her presence. Scientists frequently came in to observe my milkings, and it was humiliating. But based on this woman's clothing, she wasn't even a scientist.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked.

"Let me go," I said. She seemed important, and maybe there was something she could do. It was always worth a try.

Instead, she laughed. "Not my decision," she said. "But let me tell you what's going to happen today. Do you know what today is?"

Her question caught me by surprise. Every day was the same in here. "I have no idea what day it is. They just keep torturing me."

She nodded empathically. "It's rough, I'm sure, being stimulated by all of these beautiful women. But I've got a treat for you, and it's very special. Yesterday a new President of the United States was sworn in, and she's getting the grand tour of our top secret facilities. You're on the tour."

I thought through the scenario for a second. "I demand to be released. I'm being held here in violation of my rights as an American citizen."

"I was afraid you might be disagreeable," she said. "I've heard about your reputation." Snapping her fingers, one of the guards handed her a ball gag. "We need to be sure that you don't give the President a bad impression so we're going to put this on you."

"NO, DAMMIT!"

Like every other day, my neck was locked down to the table, and my head was pulled back and up so I couldn't avoid watching the daily sex show. There was almost nothing I could do to resist, but I tried my best. Nonetheless, in short order a large red ball gag was inserted into my mouth, and its straps were pulled together behind my head. My jaws were spread wide, my voice silenced, so I had to curse her in my mind. Once it was on, she patted me condescendingly atop my head. "Now you'll be a good boy, right?"

I muttered guttural curses at her.

She turned around. "Make them stop for a second," she ordered, and the guards quickly pulled Diane off of Jennifer's glistening face. "Actually, get them out of the room for the briefing. We'll bring them back in for the demonstration." The two showgirls were quickly ushered from the room, Diane still wearing her strap-on and Jennifer still in her handcuffs, and the power woman waited until the guards lined up again. She looked around in satisfaction. "Okay, we're ready," she said.

The cell door opened again, and yet another troop of heels clacked in. How many people were behind me? I heard a few feminine gasps as people caught sight of my predicament and nudity, along with a few sultry oohs and aahs that punctuated with giggles.

The woman who had gagged me took control. "Madame President," she said. "I'm Vanessa Guilder, head of the American Repopulation Project. I'm here today to give you a briefing of this very important project."

I narrowed my eyes in anger. So this woman was the boss, the one who was keeping me hostage. I slowly tested my bonds, but was held fast. If I could get to that woman, I would...

Behind me, a confident voice responded. "I look forward to hearing it, as do the rest of my advisors."

I tried to roll my eyes back to see her, but I had no ability to move. Was this really the president of the United States?

Guilder nodded. "This is obviously the most important long-term project in the country right now, and it's operating on very narrow margins. I'll talk about the big picture first, and then we'll show you some specifics."

Gagged and bound, I tried to move, but was ignored. I couldn't turn my head to look at who was behind me, and was humiliated to be held like this. I wanted them to know who I was, or at least who I used to be. Maybe this could be my salvation.

Guilder paced in front of me as she spoke. "As you know, the Y Chromosome epidemic was catastrophic for humanity. We all know what happened, so I won't go into details, but the epidemic virus latched onto the Y chromosomes in men's cells and killed them within hours of infection. It spread extremely rapidly and the world lost half of its population over the course of a couple of weeks. All of the deaths were males, and females were not affected at all. The virus couldn't latch onto X chromosomes, so we women were basically immune.

She gestured toward me. "The only male survivors of the initial epidemic were men who were extremely insulated from contact over the course of the entire episode. The gentleman you see here is Mark Watson. In a stroke of good luck, Mr. Watson was a mission specialist on the space station, and he was in space well before the epidemic hit. In a stroke of bad luck, we had four astronauts on the station at the time, but the other three were women. Regardless, we kept them up in space as a worst-case failsafe option even after the Repopulation Project had begun, and brought them down about two years ago."

My mind involuntarily recalled my three astronaut mates, Emma, Courtney, and Felicia. We'd been unexpectedly stuck up in the station for years, and we had some really good times that NASA never knew about. I was such a stud in those days, a handsome astronaut who plowed furrows in women coast to coast and up to low earth orbit.

Guilder put a hand on my shoulder. "Mr. Watson was, of course, our worst-case failsafe option, and as it turned out, the worst case came true. As of now, he is the only surviving American male."

My eyes swung up to Guilder. I was what?

The president was surprised as well. After a momentary pause, her voice was that of shock. "One?" she asked. "Are you serious? We have ONE surviving male?"

Guilder nodded, her face pale. "Yes, Madame President."

Tied to the table, my mind raced. I knew about the epidemic, of course, but no one had ever told me that I was the only man left. I was numb with the implications.

The president seemed annoyed as well. "I was led to believe -- the public was led to believe -- that we had an entire cadre of men! We had sailors on nuclear subs that had stayed submerged throughout the epidemic! We had other men who had been quarantined in hospitals or isolated in mines! What happened?"

A very nervous Guilder let the President finish, then answered in measured tones. "Well, Madame President, we had a disaster, and that's Top Secret. We thought we knew how the virus worked, but we didn't. We waited until the initial epidemic ended and then brought those men into the repopulation program, which was just starting up. But ... we didn't know about virus dormancy yet. The virus flared up again, and before we could control it, all of that second cadre of men died as well. We've since eradicated the virus as a threat, but by then we only had one male still left in quarantine. This male."

Footsteps came up beside me, and a hand touched my waist. I couldn't turn my head to see her, but the president was standing next to me. Her voice was one of shock. "Oh, my god. I had no idea it was that bad."

Guilder nodded solemnly, and even the guards looked gloomy. "It's that bad," she said. "It's not just us, though. The same thing happened around the world. Our intelligence reports indicate that there are only six living men on earth right now of breeding age. Mr. Watson of course, and then one each in Japan, Brazil, and China. There were two in Norway, but of course the Russians grabbed them in that incident last year.

"The good news is that we created the vaccine in time to save about a quarter of the male infants from the sailor cadre. All of the living males died, of course, but we were able to vaccinate over 700 male fetuses in utero, and they've survived. Obviously, though, we're still many years away from their reproductive maturity."