Emma Forsyth and Brigit Charington had visited the exclusive L'Apone Leathers and Furs on Wittig Avenue across from Mary Daly Place many times before that day. On some days, most often prior to or immediately following a birthday- their own birthdays or someone else's - or on a holiday, they had examined the exquisite goods with the honest possibility of a purchase. However, they came more often - like many others - just to celebrate the existence of so many beautiful things, so skillfully made and so artfully displayed. They gorged themselves on the inviting sights and smells of fine leather goods, briefcases and purses as well as coats and jackets. They reveled in the sensuous look and feel of positively, absolutely decadent furs and leathers, all presented in the very latest styles. Shopping had always been a female avocation. In her own secret heart, each imagined the pure joy of possessing such flagrantly unnecessary luxuries and each nursed a quiet resentment against the lucky few who could afford them with such apparent alacrity in reality. Today, Emma joined the ranks of the lucky few.

For all their confidence, healthy self-esteem, and good natured moxie, never had either of them worked up her courage to walk past the ever- present, ever-smiling security guard, face the unblinking eye of the security camera squarely on, and enter the inner chamber of the store. Bulky coats, purses, brief cases, and umbrella's need be checked before one might enter. One needed to sign in, show some sort of picture identification, and pass a computer check. The store worried that some disguised agent of PET'M might penetrate their defenses - People for the Ethical Treatment of Males. These intrusive, yet prudent measures also served to discourage casual browsers. Yet few casual shoppers were likely to make purchases of such magnitude. In some sense, the elaborate measures even added something more to the already substantial allure of the merchandise so carefully protected and made the items all the more special and exclusive.

Emma had heard all of the arguments and they did not leave her completely unmoved. She had no hate for males for all of the evil that they had done in the world. She even knew several males who had survived the Hunt and earned citizenship. She was rather fond of Timmy, Miranda's boy. However, the graceful, innocent creatures of the wild evoked a larger share of her sympathy.

Males had once been the "Lords of Creation." They had ruled the world for millennia but they had betrayed their trust and nearly destroyed humankind with their genius for destruction. Some said that civilization itself was women's response to male strength and enthusiasm for violence. Ultimately, civilization itself stood the shoulder high in sea of chaos and women finally banded together and found their deep-rooted strength. In the course of the Revolution, males were decimated. In its aftermath, people discovered that a simple reduction in male numbers had finally ended war and markedly diminished violent crime. No one could deny the benefits. The end of the Cold War, a half-century standoff between the United States and the Soviet Union, brought decades of prosperity. This new Gender Dividend was greater and more durable still.

The challenge for the New Order was to restrict male numbers in the face of a persistent male birth fraction and women's vast sentimentality. Though their intellects cautioned them unceasingly, most women still found males irreplaceable in a number of entertaining ways. Unchecked, males might recover their lost numbers in a generation and violently reclaim their lost privileges. However, allies were readily found among the women who had picked up the reins of power, long held by men, and had quickly come to enjoy their new prerogatives.

An annual Hunt was established to maintain the "Ten Percent Solution." Beginning in the summer of his nineteenth year, each male had to survive three annual three-day Hunts. Just as untold generations of males had shipped off to war with much bravado, now males shipped off to their "national service" at the start of the summer and the survivors returned in the autumn to praise and general celebrations. Boys were taught their new role from the day that they learned to walk and learned early to question the masculinity of any who questioned their harrowing rite of passage. Young women encouraged the males in their training for the Hunt and showed great interest in those who had survived one, two or three Hunts. No more than one male in ten survived all three Hunts, the best and brightest, to father the next generation.

The Hunt controlled male numbers but left a problem with disposal of the remains. In a state of 7 million people, the annual harvest ran about 70,000 males or jacks as they came to be called. Seventy thousand carcasses rotting in the woods seemed wasteful and would have been a veritable feast for vermin that spread disease.

However, civilized women, being creative beings, predictably sought the new and unusual as outward symbols of their sophistication, wealth, and high social standing. Women had held their own through millennia of oppression and now technology had turned the tide. A victory had been won and might be celebrated.

Trophies were quietly taken from the very start, even during the Revolution. At first though, much was wasted. However, jacks like minks, raccoons, or coyotes, might be skinned. Unlike minks, raccoons, or coyotes, jacks were not slaughtered for the sake of their skins. However, once dead, their skins might as well be taken. The creativity and imagination of the fashion industry, restrained by the harsh restrictions of the years of the Revolution and Reconstruction, rose to the challenge of a new material and its possibilities.

Women had long been aware of the glorious sensuality of a soft leather boot on a well turned leg. The erotic feel of tight leather pants embracing firm, youthful thighs and buttocks or even once firm, youthful thighs and buttocks was taken to new heights for some by the knowledge that the leather had been processed from the skins stripped from the carcasses of former "Lords of Creation."

The market for leather was not limited to hunters by any means. Women, who would never themselves have anything to do with the unpleasant business of procuring a jack skin, sought exclusive goods of jack leather with zeal. Those with adequate means treasured their very expensive brief cases, purses, wallets, shoes, boots, skirts, pants, belts, vests, and jackets, and coats of genuine, certified jack leather, its very scarcity added to its price which paradoxically added to its popularity and vice versa. Women of more modest means dreamed of the day when they might indulge themselves similarly and no longer need settle for synthetic imitations. Others found the entire business unspeakable.

The problem changed overnight from too many males to too few male carcasses to satisfy a vigorously growing demand. The Hunt was supplemented by other, more controllable procedures. At first, males who attempted violence or shirked participation in the Hunt were summarily executed without publicity. Abattoirs were established so that these males might be managed safely and slaughtered humanely and sanitarily. Later substantial bounties became available for women who would sign over their sons to the State. Scientists explored ex-vivo and xeno- gestation

Emma thought about the substantial year-end bonus check growing in her bank account, grabbed Brigit's hand and headed for the inner sanctum for the first time. She had watched her diet meticulously and put in three arduous nights a week at the gym for six full months as she had demanded of herself. She had met every requirement that she had set for herself. Now it was the time for her to claim her reward. Her boss, Amanda, owned a jack skin coat and Emma envied the admiring looks Amanda attracted. Tall, blonde,and broad shouldered, Amanda was a striking enough woman, but when she entered a room draped in her long jackskin coat, people ran to do her bidding and everyone else suddenly faded into the background.

The security guard saw two thirty-something women approach her check point. The guard's stare was usually enough to discourage teeny-boppers out for an adventure. She had seen these women in the store before, she remembered, but they had only looked longingly into the salon but never ventured in themselves. Many woman looked longingly into the salon, hoping for a glimpse of the exclusive merchandise inside, but never daring to cross the threshold themselves. These two were well-groomed and nicely enough dressed. She always looked at the shoes. You can tell much about a woman by her choice of shoes. As long as they registered and followed procedures though, it was simply none of her business anyway. Six months ago, a PET'M demonstration had gotten out of hand in the street and the store had lost a front window. The police arrested the ring leaders and the court ordered them to pay restitution. Today, things were much more peaceful - fortunately. The women signed in, showed their ID's. The guard ran them through her computer check, smiled, and waved them past.

To the left of the door was a small table with a wine service. A young hostess asked pleasantly if either would care for a glass of wine.

"A chardonnay, please." asked Brigit. The hostess removed a green glass bottle from the ice bucket and poured her a glass. "Thank you!"

"You're very welcome. And you, ma'am?" The hostess looked at Emma.

Emma hated being called "ma'am" but she would not allow anyone to spoil this day. She inhaled the acrid- smokey aroma of the chrome-cured leather goods. Her eyes feasted on the rich ivories, tans, browns, blacks. She closed her eyes for a moment in anticipation. "A cabernet, please. A big cabernet," she said.

The hostess poured Emma a glass of a blood red cabernet and smiled. She herself would choose the cabernet, but it was not her place to judge the customers' taste.

"Thank you." Emma said and sipped the fine wine whose full softness exploded on her palate and rich fragrance filled her head.

The hostess pointed out a tray with crudities and crackers crowned with either cheese or paper thin slices of cured meat. Brigit took two crackers while Emma thought of her diet and took only a stalk of celery.

Finally. Brigit and Emma moved into the room. To their left, they saw briefcases, purses, wallets, and gloves of the finest jack leather. They saw a set of leather luggage that would cost Emma the greater part of her annual salary. To their right, they saw racks of coats and jackets of various styles, lengths, and hues. Emma found herself in a battle to control her breathing - taking slow deep breath to calm her mounting excitement. She wondered if her bonus actually had been large enough to make a purchase here. Brigit was standing similarly wide-eyed and breathless with a smear of cheese on the corner of her mouth.

"Hi!" said a second smiling, pleasant, well dressed young woman. "My name is Maddy. How may I help you?" She pointed to her name badge that did confirm that her name really was "Maddy" precisely as she had stated.

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but on the first try no words came out. She swallowed hard and tried again. "I'm looking for a coat - a full-length coat."

Maddy smiled benignly. This customer was not the first whom she had seen, tongue-tied and speechless. "Would you, you know, prefer a dyed or natural leather - the standard finish or the new, softer buckskin finish."

Emma looked beyond the sporty waist-length bomber jackets and mid- thigh length car coats arrayed before her. Then she found the rack of breath-takingly splendid full length coats whose long lines swept gracefully down to mid calf or to even to the ankles. Given the limited size of a jack and the amount of unavoidable waste, more than one jack skin was required to assemble a coat. Therefore, jackskin coats had a very special patchwork appearance that was often imitated in less costly materials. Often, one jack provided the front panels and back panels on one side, a second the other side, and a third the side panels. Enough would remain for the sleeves and trim. Choosing and matching skins was an art.

The most expensive coats were constructed of cock skins, with 80-100 skins making up a single coat. A famous movie star was said to have spent a month with her entourage at a jack ranch. There, she herself had selected the jacks that she wanted and when she left, the jacks were slaughtered and skinned to produce her coat. Her coat was constructed exclusively from their genitals while her associates made due with the rest of their skins.

Brigit looked at the coats and thought for a moment of the number of jacks who had been slaughtered and skinned to stock the salon. Each jack had a mother and many had sisters or women who had cared for them. She wondered if Miranda's Timmy might end up as the rain hood of a stylish coat or an executive brief case. Brigit thought briefly about pulling Timmy's skin around herself to keep out the damp and chill. She enjoyed his skin right now, thank you, still on his altogether pleasing frame. One must admit, however, that looks faded whatever you did, but a high-quality coat could last for decades with proper care. What on earth would Miranda say when she found out what Emma planned to purchased?

Looking at one coat quickly after the other, one coat captured Emma's fancy almost immediately. She tried it on and she liked the fineness of its stitching and the subtlety of the contrast between the skins. She liked the rich way it looked on her and its sensuous feel. Emma tried on other coats but kept returning to the first one.

Emma tried it on once more and inspected it more closely. She noticed a small imperfection over her left breast and pointed it out to Brigit and the salesgirl. It looked like a healed scar, slightly raised and slightly paler than the deep, rich brown of the leather.

Brigit shook her head, and pointed out that anything so expensive should be at least perfect when you took it home from the store."

Maddy, the salesgirl, looked and touched it lightly. "Jack skins are a natural material, you know. You might see marks like this on jacks who are wounded in a Hunt and survive to heal and scar. You know, there must be some sort of story here. Jack skins don't talk, you know, unfortunately or perhaps fortunately. You can always use your imagination," she concluded pleasantly.

For a moment, Emma wondered if this girl who worked right here at L'Apone might have PET'M sympathies like her friend Miranda.

Maddy continued, "Perhaps this one was taken in the Idaho mutiny. I really think, you know, that small imperfections can give a coat character. They make each coat special and unique. If you want absolute perfection, you know, you can always try vinyl."

Emma tried on several other coats and as much as she tried to convince herself that any other might somehow serve, her attention was drawn back to the first. The first coat still seemed somehow just right even though she now found additional scars on the left back panel.

Zack or "Zack the Jack," recovered from his wounds. His attitude and cheerful manner quickly won the favor and attention of the nurses in the infirmary at Camp Cady Stanton. In reality, they weren't really nurses, but they were college girls who worked part time and functioned as nurses given the less than formal requirements of Camp Stanton. Zack's shoulder wound healed steadily and he stayed in the infirmary for two full weeks.

Sheridan attended college in the City and served as a nurse on the night Shift. Between her school work and her job, she had little time to frequent the popular hangouts with the other students. Her friends teased her saying that they would go crazy surrounded by some much eager-to- please healthy young cock. Sheridan laughed and replied that the sick jacks in the infirmary were not particularly enticing, even to her.

It all began that night when Sheridan caught him masturbating. He hadn't heard her at all when she walked onto the ward. Busy spanking the monkey, he was in truth oblivious to the world. He was humiliated beyond words. He hurriedly rearranged his blanket as best he could. His feelings about Sheridan and the others women were confused enough. He was afraid of them, yet attracted too. Sheridan was beautiful and kind. Her perfume somehow affected his brain and her mere presence befuddled him. In her presence, he could hardly form sounds into words and nothing that he said ever came out anything like he intended.

She saw his distress and honestly tried to make him feel better. She well understood the importance of controlling male numbers, but in the case of individuals, she recognized her own atavistic impulses and saw no reason to make things any more unpleasant than they need be. She hoped that she was in no danger of confusing her own physical needs with the kind of love she felt for her friends. Kindness and generosity were virtues that had more to do with her than with her charges. She told Zack that he had no reason at all to be ashamed. All males masturbated, she had learned in class, and he was certainly a male.

The kinder and more understanding that she was, the worse Zack felt. The more gently she spoke, the more he just cringed. He just wanted to disappear completely from the face of the earth. As she spoke, she touched the tell-tale wet spot. She wanted to learn more about males, she told him, and perhaps, he might masturbate just for her sometime.

Zack regained his strength and his wounds healed leaving obvious scars. After a couple of weeks, he was returned to the barracks. He continued on a rehabilitation program and received special rations. His first work assignment was right back in the infirmary. He washed the floor and cleaned the bathrooms and bed pans but enjoyed the fuss that the girls made over him. However, over the next few months, memories of that night with Sheridan ruled his fantasies. Thoughts of Sheridan intruded into his conscious thoughts also. People would speak to him and he wouldn't hear them. He would stare into space and see only Sheridan.

Several weeks later, Sheridan suggested that he might shower right in the infirmary before returning to the barracks. The infirmary had hot water while the barracks did not. He emerged from a luxurious shower and found Sheridan standing there holding a big, fluffy towel. Zack blushed beet red from head to toe. He asked for the towel politely. Sheridan shook her head "no," and motioned for him to come closer. Sheridan watched the two of them in the mirror as her hands explored his body. Not a square centimeter escaped her minute attention. Afterwards, she needed a shower herself.

Dr. Eileen McCollough stuck her head in and saw them. Always a pleasant sort, she volunteered time from her veterinary practice to help out at the camp. She grinned broadly. "You kids playing doctor - again?" she teased cheerfully. She was known to associate with PET'M members, but as long as she obeyed the law, she could hold any political opinion that she chose.

Zack finished his duties one Friday and washed up to head to evening mess. Nicole, Sheridan's friend, stopped him and told him that she and Sheridan had signed him out for the weekend. Given the dangers of female sentimentality, two women were required to sign a male out of the camp and share responsibility for his prompt return. Nicole had provided the critical co-signature.

Zack was put up in a guest room in Sheridan's apartment. Zack was sitting in a loveseat, wearing the formless smock that jacks always wore. He did not know what to expect. Zack thought back over his brush with death in the Hunt. In his mind, he went over the chain of circumstances, unlikely circumstances, that had allowed him to survive. Somehow or other, the damned bitch had not killed him with three or four shots at close range. She had been about the cut his throat, when the horn sounded and her friend stopped her out of some sort of regard for sportsmanship. Zack knew many who had been taken. He still owed one day from this year's hunt and faced two more years. As he thought about his future, his anxiety mounted.

Sheridan knocked and opened the door. She stood in the doorway, the hallway light making her negligee and silk robe translucent. She was always beautiful. She seemed literally to share his sadness. She came over and sat next to him. Her perfume filled his senses. She urged him to lay on his front and then began a back massage. Her soft hands were remarkably strong as she massaged his shoulders. She lifted his gown and methodically worked her way down to his delts, flanks, and lower back. He was already lost in sensation when her hands slipped lower and she kneaded his buttocks. Without a word, she brushed his balls and gripped his penis, already erect, in her well-manicured hand. She worked him to orgasm skillfully and relentless. His need to come matched her desire to make him come and he was helpless. Judgement fled. After he spent, she rested her hand between his buttocks until he caught his breath. Her smile showed her triumph.

"Kiss me,: she said as she left the room. They kissed. His kiss was ardent but unskilled. It was a beginning and not an end.

Sheridan signed out Zack several times and each time, Nicole would cosign. Sheridan and Zack would shower together. She never tired of touching him and she showed him how he might touch a woman and give her pleasure. First, he learned to use his hands gently on her luscious body. He learned that he might stroke her but he must never try to grab or hold her. Later, she taught him how to use his lips and tongue. She taught him how she liked her mouth to be kissed. Then, she taught him to use his mouth to pleasure her sex. She used his penis to pleasure her sex but never let him have intercourse with her. One's first male was very special. She brought him to ecstasy with her hands and mouth, time and again. He spent hours with his head nestled between her shapely thighs, bringing her to orgasm again and again, drowning in her fragrance and overwhelmed by the reflection of the intense pleasure that he gave her. Sheridan loved his pony tail which grew long and thick with her encouragement.

Once, Dr. McCullough signed Zack from the camp herself. A friend of hers named Diana cosigned and they took Zack to some sort of meeting where about thirty well dress women sat and talked. Everyone was very nice and spoke very nicely to Zack. It was all very fancy. However, Zack was bored and there really wasn't very much to eat.

The nights and days with Sheridan were idyllic. However, Zack clearly remembered the first time that Nicole joined in when he was at Sheridan's. Any friend of Sheridan was a friend of his. In particular, he owed her a large debt because she was the one who had had made these visits possible.

Nicole, blond, but as finely featured as Sheridan and perhaps a year or two older, deftly avoided Zack's outstretched hand. She reached up and took his face in both her hands. She drew him to her and kissed him fully on the mouth. As they drew apart, her tongue lingered on he lips. Confusion mounting, Zack looked at Sheridan, puzzled. Sheridan looked at him and smiled.

"Mmmm!" Nicole purred. "He is delicious, Sheridan, just like you said." She looked at Zack. Her eyes seized his. "I've had a terrible day, Zack the Jack. Just get naked and remind me how hot your body is." Sheridan said nothing at all but went into the kitchen to get the wine for everyone.

He was naked in an instant as he had been wearing no more than his formless gown that reached to his knees and fastened with a single button. Nicole looked him up and down, smiled and grabbed his cock. She pulled him to her and kissed him again. Without volition, his mouth opened to the probing of her tongue. When she finally broke off the kiss, he was breathless. Nicole stepped out of her skirt and ripped off the thong that served as her panties. Then she settled back on an overstuffed armchair. "I need to come, quick and hard! We can talk later."

His rampant sex leading the way, he went over to her. He leaned over and kissed her fully on the mouth. By some sort of atavistic instinct, he tried to position himself between her thighs and line up his aching cock with her inviting cleft. Nicole broke off the kiss with some effort and saw his cock nestled right at her opening. With a strength not expected from someone of her slight build, she put a hand on each of his shoulders and pushed him away and laughed.

"Take you time, Zack the Jack! I'm not going anywhere for some time." she drew him down and he pleasured her with his mouth as Sheridan had taught him. Nicole sighed with pleasure. She came and came again. She quickly drank down the wine that Sheridan had brought her in one gulp and then urged Zack to bring her quickly to another orgasm and then another.

His tongue touched her again and she jumped. She pushed him away and he still tried to touch her again. She slid her hand over her sex. Now, he was really confused and he looked up. He saw her literally drunk with pleasure. Her head lay back reeling. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth was half open. Her flushed skin gleamed damply with perspiration. "Just a second, Zack the Jack, my poor pussy is too sensitive now."

He moved his mouth to her once more, relishing his moment of power. She raised her legs and shifted her pelvis. To his shock, his tongue made contact with her anus. She nearly jumped out of seat and groaned aloud. Worried that he had done something wrong and somehow hurt her, Zack tried to move away a bit but her two long legs locked around his back and held him close. Two hands grasped his hair with preternatural strength and kept him firmly at his task. It wasn't at all as unpleasant as he had feared. She came again massively, discharging fully to the ends of her fingers and her toes. Nicole pushed him away and went limp. Zack fell back on his butt. He looked back at her and for a moment, it looked as if she had died.

Zack squatted back on the carpet and looked up. Sheridan's fingers were deep inside her pants. She also looked flushed and excited too. She held Nicole's skirt in her other hand. Zack wiped the wetness from his face with the back of my hand.

"Feeling better, Nicole?" Sheridan inquired mischievously. ""Here's your skirt. Get yourself straightened up and we can still make our dinner reservation." Zack looked at them, puzzled. "Sorry Zack, no jaahs' - no boys allowed. I didn't suspect that you and Nicole would become such good friends so quickly." Sheridan explained with an ironic smile.

Some other time, perhaps?" Nicole offered with a smile getting up out of the chair with more difficulty than she expected, finding her legs still somewhat weak beneath her. She excused herself and came back dressed with her hair and makeup in order. Given their recent intimacy, Zack prepared to kiss her as she left, but she managed somehow to interpose her hand between his lips and her face. Her face flashed distaste and she wiped her hand thoroughly on his chest. "Zack the Jack, you should clean up too and save that hard-on for us for later," she quipped as they left. "We'll be back for dessert."

Later that night, Nicole and Zack shared his hard-on as promised. He laid supine on the narrow bed and Nicole straddled his hips. His raging cock, double sheathed in two rubbers at her insistence, thrust deep inside her as she ground her sex against his pubic bone. Sheridan, no longer content to be a spectator, knelt over his chest with her lower legs hooked under his armpits. She faced her friend and presented Zack with her ass. They hadn't done this before, but she was curious to try what her more experienced friend had so obviously enjoyed. Sheridan slipped her foot under his head. Simultaneously, she lifted his head and lowered her bottom and he finally got the message. From the little that he could see, Sheridan and Nicole were embracing and kissing deeply.

Eventually, both woman had come and come again to their complete satiation but Zack still hadn't come at all. Nicole stripped off the doubled rubbers and Sheridan got a two minute egg-timer from the kitchen. The two women strict took strict two minute turns milking his cock until Sheridan finally made him come. She was quite pleased with herself. "Practice makes perfect," she quipped. Somehow, they all slept together wedged on that narrow bed.

When the police officer showed them the video tapes of Zack at the PET'M meeting, his mom and sister simply couldn't believe it. Zack had never been a rebel. He had never challenged the system. He had trained diligently for the Hunt and certainly done his best to provide good sport. His mom just cried. At first, not even Zack's sister, usually the most clear-headed of them all, could decide what to say or to do.

The police had worried about PET'M for years. As long as PET'M kept to propaganda - what they called education and others called propaganda and lies - and to politics, they could be tolerated but watched. However, when they stooped to vandalism or violence, someone had to do something. Diana Winters, a close friend of Eileen McCullough, was their leader and she had been convicted of the vandalism at L'Apone Leathers on Wittig Avenue. Diana Winters. had also cosigned with Eileen McCullough when Zack had attended the fateful PET'M meeting. Perhaps Zack's experiences in the Hunt and his interactions with Dr. McCullough, a known PET'M member, had twisted his impressionable mind.

Sheridan's was heart broken. Nicole explained that she sensed that Zack was a little to full of himself and tried to parley his sexual talents into a modicum of power. She had tried to encourage Sheridan to enjoy other males too and had warned her of doting on just one too exclusively. With his hot body and women's vast capacity for sentimentality, she could well see how old Zack the Jack was a potential danger. She had always thought him cute but a bit uppity. She promised to do everything that she could to help Sheridan get over him.

Zack's mother cried for a long time. Zack's sister, though, recovered more quickly. She was the most rational of them all, as usual. "If they hold a hearing and find him guilty, we'll lose him anyway. If we sign him over now, we'll lose him but we'll get the bounty, at least. Zack's mother cried again but his sister made sure that she signed the papers and that the bounty check stayed dry and safe.

The Hunt was the primary institution to control male numbers. However, some males refused to participate in the hunt and threatened to demoralize the others Some males were too unruly to be reared in the community and required containment. Some women had no interest in raising male offspring, especially not a second. Abattoirs were set-up to handle the overflow.

Zack arrived by truck at dawn on Tuesday with about fifty others. No one had told him anything - at all. He knew nothing of the vandalism at L'Apone Leathers and nothing of the arrest of Dr. McCullough's friend, Diane Winters. The authorities saw no reason to frighten him. No one was seeking his rehabilitation or his approval of their necessary actions. Monday through Friday, trucks arrived near dawn in order limit the number of bystanders exposed to the unpleasantness. Confused and disoriented, he was herded with the others into darkened pens in groups or gangs of 25 by shouting guards with snarling dogs. The males on different trucks were mixed randomly together to break up any plots that might evolved in transit. No one really thought to resist.

The jacks rested naked in their pens in semi-darkness for the next 72 hours. They could sit, lie, walk about, or make use of any of several squatter toilets as they pleased. They were offered only ale and all of it that they could drink, but no solid food. The pen was always dim. It had no windows and Zack had no way to mark the passage of time. He drank with the rest of them and found it eased his anxiety and he drank some more. He peed like crazy, became thirsty, and drank yet more. He and the others were more than a little drunk.

Suddenly, the dim pen blazed with bright light. Ear splitting sirens inflicted actual pain and prevented rational thought. At first, Zack could hardly see the jump suited women with sun goggles and ear plugs who ushered the jacks one by one from the pen and out into the corridor. When he could see, he could then also see the flashing teeth of the snarling dogs barely held in check by the women who clung to their leashes. His mind was befuddled by the noise, light, and alcohol. When a woman grabbed for him, he pulled back by reflex and fond himself lying on the floor, twitching with the aftershocks of a cattle prod. He lay in a pool of sour-smelling urine. He had peed on the floor, but no one really seemed to care.

Unresisting now, Zack was ushered out of the room. Males were being loaded onto an electric tram, like those used in theme parks, two by two. Zack was secured to his seat by a seat belt and his wrists were secured in front of his belly. The plastic seat was damp if not wet. A hood was pulled over his head and all became black. He turned his head from side to side and tried to see something with no success.

Although Zack sensed someone sitting beside him, he heard nothing from him or from any of the others. The screaming siren prevented any sort of communication. Soon two rows of 25 jacks sat side by side on the tram. Each was secured to his seat and hooded.

"Okay, Megan, my side's all filled!" a voice called above the wail of the siren.

"Saddle up!" called a second voice. The shrill siren faded to a whine and stopped. The grumble of a motor sounded. "Welcome, boys and girls! This is the Bozo bus," the driver announced with mock solemnity. "Passengers are reminded to keep their head and arms inside the vehicle at all times and remain in their seats until we come to a complete stop. No smoking! Remember, ladies and gentlemen, this is the Bozo bus!" Megan concluded with a grin that no one could see. Secured to their seats with their arms bound, no one was likely to try to get off the tram prematurely or stick out their arms or heads. "And you are all Bozos," she mouthed to herself. She was moderately pleased with her wit. No jack was likely to be riding back on this tram either. Sometimes, though, the merest glimmer of hope could be the strongest bond. It was just hard to keep from laughing out loud.

Zack was confused and frightened. He tested his bonds but found no give at all. The driver said something about remembering the name of the bus and there was no reason to do that unless they would be riding the bus again.

A warm weight landed suddenly in Zack's lap. "Howdy," a female voice called cheerfully, while she shifted about on Zack's lap and made herself comfortable. The tram pulled slowly and laboriously away from the curb. She sat on his right thigh, with one arm draped over his neck.

Through the hood, Zack could faintly detect the aroma of her perfume. "Help me," he asked plaintively, hoping that she could hear him through the hood.

"Poor baby," cooed Shelby, not acknowledging that she heard anything. She saw the pale white scar on his left shoulder and touched it gently. It was slightly raised above the surface of his skin but not inflamed or tender at this late date. "I wonder what happened to you? Scratched yourself?" Zack tried to pull away but secured to his seat, he was unable to escape. Shelby slid her hand over his chest and belly. She reached lower and captured his cock and balls. He tensed at first, but then relaxed with her gentle, persistent manipulation. Shelby had never hated jacks. She even thought that they could be kind of cute, but she had a job to do.

If she worked at the plant for three years, she not only earned a good salary, but she also earned credits toward her college scholarship. Some found the work distasteful, but she had grown up on a farm and knew something of the inner workings of beasts and fowls. She also cared. The jacks she stunned, stayed stunned. She put them down peacefully and they never suffered. She had seen more than one jack on the other line awake to find himself dangling on the line waiting to be slaughtered. It was never very pretty after that.

The tram reached the killing floor. Shelby jumped off of the tram, unlocked the cabinet on her side, and grabbed the bolt pistol. The jacks sat hooded and secured to their seats. She passed down the row of jacks sitting on her side of the tram with practiced efficiency. She stopped by each jack in turn, steadied his head with her left hand, pressed the pistol lightly against his forehead with her right, and smoothly pulled the trigger. With the crushing impact of the bolt, the jack's head jerked back and his body followed, slamming against the seat back. Taylor did the same on her side of the tram. Taylor was new, but she seemed as diligent as Shelby.

The stunned jacks were dragged from either side of the tram, hung head down, and run to the next station. More than one had lost his urine or his feces when he had been stunned. The tram was taken and hosed down before the next run.

Each hanging jack was "stuck," that is exsanguinated with deep cuts on either side of his neck, opening the large blood vessels while leaving his windpipe and esophagus intact. One sticker worked with an associate on either side of the mover. Shelby admired their speed and precision when she had stunned all twenty-five jacks and helped to hang them in a line.

While the carcasses bled out, they washed thoroughly with antibacterial soap, scalded with a steam hose to loosen hair, and then scrubbed vigorously to remove most of any remaining body hair.

Shelby's next task was to milk down any blood remaining in the calves, thighs, and buttocks. She worked her way down the line of pink and smooth jacks, working methodically, beginning with the carcass first hung. Her eyes were on a level with the jacks' genitals. Limp cocks and balls, of various shapes and hues, flopped right into her face - like ripe fruit ready for harvest - as she reached up to massage calves and thighs. Once, she remembered, she had opened her mouth to take a deep breath and found herself spitting out a penis. Her friend, Caitlin had had a similar experience in a local night club with a table dance.

At least once a day, the thought struck her that males once ruled the world with those pitiful things. One man might paralyze a dozen healthy adult women simply by threatening to expose himself. Now, males and their male paraphernalia were relegated to their rightful role in service to civilization.

Once, the sticker had failed to severe any major vessels with either of her deep cuts. The jack was still alive when she grabbed for his legs. His cock gave her a vigorous salute. These poor jacks never completely lose hope, she mused. Shelby saw the carcass with a large scar on his left shoulder again. She remembered the jack. Now his hair was all messed up and his face showed the most endearing look of confusion and surprise. He just made her smile. His wiener arched forward most yearningly.

The carcasses were gutted with a long incision from pubis to throat, sawing right through the breast bone. Once the heads were removed, the jacks lost their resemblance to anything human. Something of a debate raged whether a jack should be skinned immediately or whether it was better to wait until he was butchered. The skin did serve to protect the carcass from dirt and drying, but it also held in heat and many attributed an off taste to its various glands and secretions. The abattoirs generally skinned the carcasses hot, before the subcutaneous fat had had an opportunity to cool and solidify.

A worker inserted the nozzle of a high-pressure air hose under the skin and used air pressure to separate the skin from the subcutaneous tissues. Shelby admired their skill and their economy of motion. The flayed, gutted carcasses were hung in a temperature and humidity regulated cooler for at least 36 hours so that rigor mortis might come and go and the meat stretch on the bone. Butchering might then proceed and the meat be more tender.

The skin of a cow or horse was called a hide. The skin of sheep, goat or jack was simply a skin. The skins were trimmed, then fleshed by machine, and cured by soaking in brine for 16 hours. The salted hides were shipped to tanneries, soaked and rotating wooden drums. Hair was removed by soaking in lime and sodium sulfide. Afterward the alkalai was neutralized with acids and the skins were treated with enzymes to assure softness. Then they were pickled in water, salt, and acid. Finally, the skins were tanned with trivalent chrome and fixed with sodium carbonate. The wet skins were wrung, then split and shaved as desired. The skins were dyed and lubricated to obtain the final product.

At the end of this complex, smelly process, Anna Bischoff had the job of sorting through the tanned skins. Fortunately, she worked far from the noxious tannery. She saw her job as reclaiming the blossoms from the dung heap and guaranteeing that something of lasting value was recovered. The humanoid form of the jacks was only vaguely apparent in the finished skins stretched out on her work table.

Emma just stood still in the middle of her foyer, just glad to be home at last. Despite her best efforts, unbidden images crowded her mind. It had been quite some day. She had worn her new coat for the first time. She could tell the difference in the way people saw her. The saleslady had waited on her first and the girl parking her car had done a double take or two.

Miranda, of course, had asked her how she could wear such a horrible thing. Emma had tried to explain that while minks and coyotes were slaughtered primarily for their skins, jacks were put down simply to limit male numbers. Their flesh and skins were secondary. Burning or burying the carcasses would be wasteful and unsanitary. When males saw their fellows hanging in butcher shops and saw sophisticated ladies adorned in finely made leathers made from the skins stripped from their bodies, they must know that times had changed forever and the world would never again be what it had once been. Emma didn't think that she had done much to change Miranda's opinion. That girl just let her heart rule her head.

Miranda and her PET'M friends would not spoil her day. Emma was exhilarated but exhausted. She closed her eyes and felt the earth spinning on its axis at a substantial speed and orbiting the sun at some great velocity. She saw the sun and all her planets shooting at an enormous rate through the galaxy which itself was moving yet more quickly.

Emma awoke later that night. She got up out of bed and drew on her robe against the night-time chill. Then she went quietly to the hall closet and turned on the light. Her new coat hung there, glowing warmly in the incandescent light and fill her closet with its unique aroma. She ran her hands over the soft leather and relished its sensuous feel. She shed her fluffy white robe and stood naked in the cool silence. The closet light cast bizarre shadows on the ceiling, walls, and flooe. Quickly, she slipped the coat over her bare shoulders. The rich silk lining was cold on her bare skin and she shivered. The leather fragrance filled her head. She looked at herself in the hall mirror and saw herself an elegant thirty-something year old woman, of medium height and build with dark hair and large brown eyes - her best feature - who had made something of a success of herself. She touched the sensuous leather over her chest. Her breasts responded to the pressure. Her nipples stood erect and brushed against the silk lining. She hugged herself and sighed from the sensation.

Miranda came home after a trying day. Emma hadn't helped. Miranda couldn't understand how a person as kind and perceptive as Emma could actually wear a coat made of the skins of male humans. "Jack" was just a name used to dehumanize them and much what was said was pure sophistry.

Timmy put her brief case in the den and scurried around to make Miranda comfortable. He looked quite comfortable himself, in his bare feet and his loose-fitting caftan. He moved quite confidently in the apartment despite his blindness. She closed her eyes and relished the warmth. A trickle of water from the melting snow on her hat seeped in underneath her scarf and dampened her neck. A night's sleep in her warm, dry bed would be welcome. Timmy took her gloves, hat and scarf and laid them out to dry. Next hehelped her with her wool coat. Miranda helped Timmy wrestle off her boots. These were cow hide. She undid her blazer herself. Timmy hung that up with only a bit of fumbling and returned with her robe. She slipped out of her dress and into the fluffy white robe. Then with a sigh, she collapsed back onto the easy chair facing the window that looked out over the few lights that marked Pleasanton at night. Timmy brought her a glass of pinot grigio.

The wine was refreshing if not outstanding. She raised her hips so that her Timmy could remove her pantyhose. The pressure of her hand on his thigh told him to undo his button and shed his caftan. In a second, he stood naked before her. In another second, he knelt between her thighs. His nose, lips, and tongue pleasured her sex with ardor as well as practiced skill. She pressed his head to her fiercely as her sighs became groans and her wine sat temporarily forgotten on the side table.

Minutes later, she rode astride him on her bed, facing his feet. She lifted her nightgown to watch the place where they joined in her mirror. His rock hard sex filled her to an aching fullness. She came and came, as she often did. Soaking wet with her juices, he was still ready to give her yet more pleasure, all the pleasure that she might want. Finally, even she had had enough for tonight and disengaged herself carefully. She was flushed and weak with pleasure. Timmy still stayed thick and hard for her. Her sex was swollen and exquisitely tender. Her most guarded movements sparked small explosions from the fading fire in her belly. He was a good ride, the best, but after all, she paid for the best.

It was cold that night, and she would let him share her bed. His bulk and warmth would be welcomed. Tommy lay supine, his head toward the foot of her bed. Miranda laid beside him. She cupped his balls tenderly with her hand and it was his turn to sigh with pleasure. Such moments made Miranda question even the "Ten Percent Solution." Few women had access to such powerful, intimate pleasure. Even she had to share him with her housemate, Ashley. The use of male skins and flesh was unconscionable. Males might be put to better use.

Timmy tried at once to return the attention, but her sex was too tender even for his tongue. She pushed him away firmly. Somehow, he was able to maneuver his head between her thighs and tease her anus with his tongue. This time, she did not push him away but arched her back to enhance the sensation.

Her hand slipped from his balls to his thick shaft, still rock hard and ready. Just holding it gave her pleasure. The smooth, velvety skin had an absolutely delicious feel that could never be replicated totally with synthetics. She remembered all of the pleasure that he had given her in any number of ways. She tasted herself as she ran her tongue over his glans. She tasted herself and not him. She never had to bother with condoms. She never had suffer male ejaculate running thinly down her thigh or dirtying her panties or her linens.

Miranda let him sleep, when she awoke for work in the morning. He slept on while she showered and enjoyed her coffee. However, Ashley finished her thirty minutes on her stair master and seized the opportunity.

Ashley roused Timmy to shower quickly, then stripped off her own perspiration drenched clothes. She threw her clothes into a corner of the bathroom and dragged him dripping from the shower. She hadn't all that much time. She loved the way that he licked her breasts and the sweaty places under her arms. His mouth touched her sex and inhaled her essence of sweat, piss, and female arousal. She could wait no longer. He was thick and hard and ready for her - as always. His wet body slid against the tile floor as they moved together. She could ride him forever. Her nine o'clock appointment would have to wait.

As willing and able as Timmy was, Ashley was glad that she and Miranda had had him surgically augmented so that he would always be ready to serve them and nothing left be left to chance. Urethral suppositories could never be found when they were most needed and sometimes, even the most obedient boy lost control and ejaculated. Timmy's penis had been opened surgically and all the capricious fleshy structures with his messy ejaculate replaced with more reliable, sanitary workings. He was always ready. Blind, he never saw that the imperfections in her make-up or her need to have her hair washed and set. Blind, he would never detect the first subtle signs of the passage of time that she saw herself when she inspected herself in the mirror. She had never regretted the expense to have him modified- upgraded. She was glad that they had had him blinded also. He had seemed sad at first, but now he didn't seem to care at all.