The Standup Boys' Revolution

Author's Note: This story is one of a series, but they can be read in any order.

* * *

The city of Standup was off to powerful start. Just weeks ago, this land had been jungle—thick, obscure, dangerous jungle. But men had come and hacked away the trees. They had pulled up the plants, burned the logs and stamped the ground flat. They had made wooden huts, tents and shacks, and now they were even building a wall surrounding the place.

There was much to keep out. Tribes of huntresses prowled the jungle, and they wouldn't hesitate to snap up a man who looked tasty. Then there were the monster girls, those strange, powerful creatures that even the tribeswomen seemed to fear.

Back in Izaz, things had been different. An ancient city of sand and stone, Izaz was orderly, civilized and utterly dominated by women. For twenty-one years, Vot had struggled to survive in the streets, cheating, stealing and, when he absolutely had to, whoring out to the poorer women who trawled the streets for loose men.

But all that was over. From the low streets of Izaz, a movement had taken shape, an alliance of men who had had enough. Discarded old men, abused husbands and adventure-seeking sons of noblewomen, men from all walks of life had joined hands and made an exodus from that changeless city. Now their new establishment was named Standup, because that was what it was: men standing up for themselves. Now freedom and self-sufficiency were theirs.

And Vot had something he cherished even more. As he knelt at the foot of his new home in the making, digging holes for new posts to support the walls, he looked over his shoulder and saw Kervin. Before the exodus, Kervin had been the husband of a common woman who had worked him like a slave and ridden him like a whore. His long hair and sharp, unscarred face made him look soft, but Vot knew better. Dressed in a simple tunic that let his skin breathe, the man's powerful, neatly toned muscles glistened under the sweat that covered his sun-tanned skin.

Kneeling next to Vot, Kervin set down a wooden bucket, a little water sloshing over its sides. "You should drink," he said warmly. "You can't work with a dry mouth."

"Oh, no?" said Vot. "Did it all the time, back on the streets."

"Then just imagine how strong you'll be with a belly full of water."

With a grateful smile, Vot tipped the bucket up to his lips and drank the life-giving coolness, not letting it down until every drop had disappeared down his throat.

Kervin blinked, shocked. "Should I get you another bucket?"

"You don't have to fuss over me like this, Kervin."

"Someone has to." Taking Vot's face gently in both hands, Kervin leaned in and kissed him. "If I didn't take care of you, you'd work yourself to death. We have a future, Vot. Don't you want to live long enough to see it?"

Putting a hand over Kervin's, Vot gently pressed his face into the taller man's palms. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

* * *

Kervin strode gingerly through Standup, seeing by the tiny light of his match. He knelt by the supply blanket, the place where every precious trinket brought from Izaz was stored. From simple metalwork to a newfangled electric lamp and the spare muskets that some men had managed to steal from their gun-owning wives, everything that couldn't be fashioned from wood, stone and earth was here to be shared; private property was a luxury the Standup men could not yet afford.

To Kervin's dismay, he saw no cookware. Then it occurred to him to look in the tool shed, which the Standup men rather pretentiously called the warehouse.

Inside the warehouse, Kervin's match lit up shelves and big stones that served as tables, with wares placed wherever had made the most sense to the last man who had used them.

And on the ground, a man lay on his back.

Kervin nearly dropped his match. "Sir!" he gasped, kneeling by the man. "Are you alright?"

The man did not look alright. His clothes were gone, bearing his pale, sweaty body, and his hands and feet were flat on the soil as if glued there. He made no sound, even as he looked up at Kervin with eyes wide and panicked. His cock was spent and limp.

"Sir," said Kervin, "What happened to y-"

Something crashed against Kervin's back, forcing him to the ground. Dropping his match, Kervin flipped onto his back and looked up. Something stood over him, and it wasn't a man. It didn't quite look like a woman either. As soon as Kervin's eyes had pieced together an image out of the shimmering shape in the flickering matchlight, it shifted.

The shape fell on Kervin, warm and slick, then flowed up his skin to his mouth. He pursed his lips, determined not to swallow whatever it was. He fought to get up, but suddenly his limbs felt like stone.

Looking up, he watched as the strange liquid rose from him as if compelled by magic and finally resolved into a small human, female form. The liquid flashed black and white, then finally settled on a stony grey hue. It turned its face to look down at him.

"Another one!" it squeaked, in a cool, airy voice. "Two boys! I can't believe I get two!"

Kervin took a deep breath to call out for help, but grey gelatin over his mouth—the girl's hand, it seemed—muzzled him.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh," the gel girl hissed, putting a finger to her lips. Brown emerged in her eyes and eyebrows, and she gave a devilish grin. "If you make noise, I won't let you talk."

Leaning down, she merged her face onto his, and Kervin could feel a force pressing on his lips, then pushing them apart. The gel girl sat up, releasing his mouth.

Kervin tried to scream, and he could not. His lips were glued together.

The gel girl giggled melodically. "Silly boy! You don't get to make noise! If you make noise, I close your mouth." She smiled, shifting her shoulders. "Now give me! Give me, give, me give me!"

She shifted her weight, tearing his tunic in half from his collar down to his groin, and instantly the warm, thick fluid of her body enveloped his cock. Pressure rippled up his shaft, and his mind scattered with sudden pleasure. She kept going, pulling him to erection, and it took all of his focus to keep breathing through his nose. Without the use of his mouth, one wrong move would cause him to pass out.

The gel girl threw her head back, making little, high-pitched moans, and in one blazing-quick moment, Kervin realized that her hands were off his wrists. Sitting up, he shoved the gel girl, trying to force her off his body. His hands went straight through her milky flesh.

"Ooh," sang the girl. "You want to kiss me too?" Wrapping her arms around his head, she pulled him up to her mouth, and once again he was helpless to stop her from pulling his mouth open. The girl's face pressed against his nose, sealing his nostrils, and for a moment he thought she had signed his death warrant.

Then air began to flow down his throat. Desperately, he pulled for more, and somehow he managed to breathe normally. Her irresistible grip pulled him upright, and he sat with his mouth locked against hers, her nonexistent lungs breathing fresh air into his, all while her hips rocked and pulled on him. When his orgasm erupted from his shaft, the girl's grip on his head tightened, and she worked faster, then slower. Finally, she separated from his mouth, but to his disappointment, he was sealed shut once again. His heart pounded, and once again he struggled to breathe through his nose.

He was barely aware as the gel girl took his hand into her mouth, sucking on his fingers one by one, coating them in thick, cool cream. As soon as she let his hand drop, the cream seeped into the ground and hardened, sticking his hand there. He made a lame resistance as she sucked on his other hand, but when she brought down two fingers and squeezed his nose shut, he stopped everything and allowed her to stick his other hand to the ground.

Finally, his breathing stabilized, and he looked up to find the gel girl transformed. Not only were her eyes and eyebrows colored, but her hair as well, and her skin had darkened into a more human shade of brown. Her breasts were still missing nipples, and there was no coloring where her fingernails and toenails should have been, but she looked more human than before.

"Mmmm," she sighed, leaning back without releasing his cock. "Good boy! You gave me more. Mmm..." she closed her eyes, and for a minute, both were silent. Finally, her eyes opened again. "Just one more boy. One more, and I'll look like them." On that, she dismounted him, her gel sticking uncomfortably to his cock, and literally melted into the shadows.

Kervin fought against his bonds, but knew it was useless. He was trapped, muzzled and squeezed dry. All he could do was wait.

* * *

"Boy? Boy, come on, wake up! What happened to you? Come on, speak!"

Kervin's eyes shot open. A man knelt over him, gently slapping his cheek, staring worriedly into his eyes. Kervin tried to respond, but could only hum through his glued-together lips.

The man produced a knife. "You've got something on your mouth. I'm going to cut it. This won't hurt, I promise."

Fear held Kervin in place as the cold metal blade gently penetrated his mouth, slipping perilously between his lips. But when it came away, his mouth was his again. Kneeling by Kervin's hands, the man cut away the adhesive slime with immaculate care.

"You must be a butcher's wife," mumbled Kervin through stiff, crusted lips.

"Was a butcher's wife," he corrected. "I was sick of being ridden like a toy." He looked down at Kervin sympathetically. "Or like this. What did it, boy? Do you remember? Here, stand up." At last, he freed Kervin and pulled him to his feet.

"Kervin!" came Vot's desperate voice. "Kervin, are you alright?"

Kervin turned around to see Vot running into his arms. "Yes, I'm alright." Vot gripped him with strength far beyond his thin frame, and Kervin hugged him tenderly back. "The monster girl took me. And one other man. But she's gone now. I'm alright."

"No, you are not!" thundered a deep, grating voice. All eyes turned to the entrance to the hut, and there stood Bruin, half a head taller than the average man and broad to match, his bare chest covered in tattoos. This was the man who had run the city of Standup ever since edging out that meek old man Fingir. While Fingir had always had his aides beside him for counsel, Bruin was alone except for the captive monster girl who knelt at his side. Hairless, purple-skinned and covered in sick-looking spots, that monster girl always made Kervin's skin crawl. "You are not alright," Bruin yelled again. "A monster girl got past my guards and fucked my men!" He thrust his index finger at the ground as he said the word 'my.' "Unacceptable!" Turning to the open air, he cupped his hands over his mouth and howled, "Guards! All of you, get over here!"

His guards obeyed, down to the man. In minutes, a semicircle of armed, baffled men stood around the entrance to the storehouse. As the former butcher's wife freed the monster girl's other victim, Bruin clasped his arms behind his back and began to pace.

"You men volunteered to protect this city!" he barked. "Your job was to lay down your lives if that's what it took to protect your brothers." He pointed furiously at Kervin and the other man. "And you didn't! Who was on shift last night?"

A few worried men stepped forward. Other men hurried away, returning minutes later with off-duty members of last night's watch.

"I want these men barred in the hide shack! And kept there!"

Hesitantly, the guardsmen began to herd their worried comrades to the only hidebound structure in the city. As they went, Bruin added, "This is not your punishment! This is where you'll stay until I decide what's not too good for you!"

Apprehensively, Kervin stepped up to Bruin. "Sir?"

"What?" he snapped, turning around. "Are you alright, man? What'd they do to you?"

"Nothing my wife never did to me... sir, I don't think those men are entirely at fault. The monster girl that took us... she was capable of extraordinary things."

"Tell me, man, was that monster girl born in Standup?"

"No, sir."

"And she fucked you in Standup?"

"Yes, sir."

"So she got past the wall. She got past my men! It was their responsibility to stop the monster girls." He turned and stormed off. "And there are no excuses in the jungle."

* * *

Vot didn't like the look of this. The ten guardsmen who had 'failed' to stop the monster girl were tied to stakes outside the walls, facing the jungle. They had been that way all day, baking in the sun.

Timshin the scout came loping back out of the jungle with a bleak, unreadable look on his face. He ducked into a small but nicely made hut and emerged with a prim, evil-looking man behind him. It was Sarvy, an upper-class man who had been on Fingir's staff, then left him to join Bruin—after, Vot supposed, leaving his family to join the exodus from Izaz in the first place. That was a lot of betraying for a high-born man.

Imperiously, Sarvy walked up to the stakes, then planted his foot, facing the jungle with his hands on his hips.

Kervin stood beside Vot. "What do you suppose will happen to them?"

Vot sighed. "You want my real guess, or one that'll make you feel better?"

"I can't run from the truth."

"Monster girls." Vot paused. "Think since you got worked over by a monster girl, Bruin wants them to be on the business end of that too. Ironic justice."

"I feel so responsible."

Vot turned to him. "You? What did you do?"

"If I hadn't been raped by that slime girl, they wouldn't be in that predicament."

"You listening to yourself, Kervin? You don't choose to end up between a monster girl's legs. No one ever does. It's not your fault that you couldn't defend yourself." He pointed to the stakes. "And it's definitely not your fault Bruin is a son-of-a-bitch. Almost think we should save those men." That last comment hung there for a few silent, uncomfortable seconds.

Finally, something came out of the jungle. But it wasn't a monster girl. A woman in a grass loincloth and colorful woolen top stepped into the sun, spear held lazily at her side, rich wooden ornaments adorning her hair. Then another came, a few beads marking a braid that hung over the side of her head. Two more women treaded carefully behind her with arrows fitted into their bows. Still more came, until a crowd of dozens stood in front of the stakes.

The woman with the wood-beaded hair spoke loudly enough for Vot to hear: "Before, the tribe of many males did not trade husbands. Why does the man-chief summon us?"

"I am not the man-chief," said Sarvy. "As he is currently indisposed, I serve as his envoy." Stepping forward, he grabbed the chin of one of the bound men. "These men have failed in their duties. As punishment, they are available for sale."

"You trade husbands as a punishment? You should not hate to trade them. It is an honor to be given to another tribe."

"Duly noted. Now, do these men interest you?"

The wood-crowned woman stepped up to the tallest man and examined him. "My sister wishes a special husband for her daughter." She smiled. "Perhaps if she were the first to be serviced by one from the tribe of many males?"

The tied guardsman bit the chieftain's finger, and she gasped and slapped him across the cheek. Then she smiled. "I hope her daughter likes a challenge. We can make a trade." She looked at the other captives. "They will be servants and secondary husbands. The other tribes will know that we were the first to trade with the tribe of many males."

"And what do you propose to give us?"

The chieftain looked at Standup. "Your village is built to last. But without ditches that flow, your water will fester. We will teach you to drain your village."

"We should take it," Timshin the scout whispered to Sarvy. "There's already a bit of a smell around Hamzi's house, and it's just going to get worse."

Sarvy faced the tribal women with a narrow-eyed smile. "We accept."

Some of the bound guardsmen started pulling at their bonds and shouting, but the tribeswomen casually gagged them with fiber ropes. Sarvy and the chief spoke quietly for a minute, occasionally pointing at Standup and inspecting the convicted men, then the chief's women stepped forward, uprooted the stakes and hoisting the unfortunate men onto their shoulders, two cooperating to carry each man. As an added insult, one of them stroked a man's cock to erection, and it stayed stiff and swollen as he was lifted off the ground. In single file, the men were carried off into the jungle, bawling through their gags.

"That wasn't right," said Vot.

"Those men gave up everything to join our cause!" said Kervin. "And now we sell them back to women who will treat them as property? This is disgusting!"

Vot stood up. "Want to do something about it?"

"How do you mean?"

"Bruin just sold one of our own. We can sit here and take it, or we can go in there and make him regret it."

Kervin hesitated, then mouth hardened into a flat, angry line. "Let's do it!"

Together, they marched off to the hut where Bruin had made his home. Taking the initiative, Kervin threw open the entrance flap.

Bruin sat on a rock covered in rich blankets. His legs were open, and his monster knelt between them, her head bobbing gently as she sucked on him.

Kervin hesitated. Vot did not. "You did wrong," he growled. "Punish those guards if you want to, but don't sell them into slavery."

"They didn't deserve that!" Kervin came in. "They didn't deserve to be playthings of those savages just because they made a mistake!"

"The jungle doesn't tolerate mistakes," said Bruin evenly. "And neither do I."

The monster girl turned to look at Kervin and Vot, eyes wide and curious, but Bruin put a hand on her cheek and guided her back to his cock.

"For goodness' sake!" cried Kervin, "Make her stop while we're speaking to you!"

"Or I could just make you stop talking," said Bruin, patting the flintlock pistol on his side.

Vot started planning what he would do if Bruin drew that gun. But before he could, Kervin turned with a huff and stalked out of the hut.

Bruin smiled. "You'd better follow him."

Slowly, Vot backed away.

* * *

Kervin was starting to feel better. The warm sun and the bracing work had cleared his mind. Bruin had done wrong, of course, but who knew? Maybe those men could be rescued some time. After all, their captors were only human.

Kervin helped set up a table half a woman-height across and dozens long. Behind him, bag after bag of wild fruits were being fished from the rinsing barrel and set out on the table. Still other men churned nuts into peanut butter spread.

A feast was in the making. It would be Standup's first, and it would pull the Standup men together like they hadn't been since the exodus. Back in Izaz, their wives had kept them immured from the outside world, and the habit of isolation had persisted. It could be seen in the skyline of Standup, its one-room huts standing aloof from each other.

Now everything was ready. Men were starting to gather, and a few others hurried off to call friends, brothers, roommates and boyfriends.

As the crowd approached a hundred, a man with a big voice stood up to shout, "Come and get it!"

It became a whirlwind. Men sat wherever they would fit and stuffed food into their mouths. Lower-class men made loud, messy conversation, and others were silent as they savored their first taste of bread in months, courtesy of the only house in Standup that had a working oven.

Kervin watched like a proud father, smiling at their sheer joyous excitement. But he did not see his boyfriend.

"Vot?" Kervin called out. "Vot, are you around?" Not seeing him, Kervin waded his way out of the crowd around the table, certain that Vot would be lurking around among the huts somewhere. "Vot?"