Captain Nbecki watched the activity on Drill Floor #1 from his monitor on the bridge. The recruits were new and fumbling through the formations, but he knew Sergeant Peach would soon have them in shape. Janet’s twentieth century military methods might seem out of place for reproductive training, but they worked. Her first year success rate was a ninety-eight percent impregnation rate within three months of returning to Earth. Nbecki touched the switch panel and brought the microphones on the drill floor to his headset.
“Left, right, left, right, left… Erickson, get those tits in the air. You look like you’re bending over to take it in the ass. Left, right, left, right…, Company…, HALT! What the fuck do you bitches think you’re doing? When I say halt, I wanna hear two hundred wet pussies slappin’ shut in the air. Ames, why the hell are you smiling?”
Nbecki grinned as Sergeant Peach stood with her nose only inches away from the small giggling blonde and screamed, “Do you want my body, Ames? Is that it? Fuck, I know I’m hot. I’ll betcha wanna lick my crotch clean, don’tcha? Well, wipe that smile off your face, Sugar. Ain’t no private ever touched this kitty. You make Corporal and we’ll talk. Drop and give me one.”
The little blonde sat down on the drill floor, pulled the MVBO-106 standard issue vibrator from her web belt, and spread her legs. Yes, thought Nbecki, Sergeant Peach knew her business. After only a couple minutes, Private Ames arched into the throbbing plastic cock, convulsed twice and fell back. In another month, it would take her less than three minutes to bring herself to orgasm with just one finger, and less with the vibrator. Her future husband would appreciate this training, just as Private Ames would enjoy the training she’d received.
The rest of the company of nude girls stood at attention. They knew from experience that Sergeant Peach would be watching for signs of arousal. It wasn’t long after Private Ames gasped out the last wave of pleasure that Sergeant Peach yelled again.
“Rivotti, is that the best you can do? I got a pimple on my ass that’s bigger than your nipples. See me after formation. I’ll issue you a pump to help them out.”
Captain Nbecki touched the panel again and his headset went quiet. He was fortunate that he’d stumbled across Sergeant Peach’s personnel file that day. Otherwise, the human race might have been in more trouble than it now was. He would have been missing out on an unbelievable experience as well. For the three months, he’d had the pleasure of having Sergeant Janet Peach as his wife. She’d proven to be as skilled in bed as she was on the drill floor. Nbecki smiled at how fate had drawn them together.
Historians have a compulsion to identify the exact date and time something began, and often dedicate their lives to the search for such information. Their best guess so far is the year 2306. That was the year Forgenonda was selected as the supplier of the SSP-200/201.
The Earth Congress had received information from agents posing as interstellar traders that the Phallussians were planning an invasion of Earth and it’s neighboring habitable planets. The decision was made to send the fleet of battlestars to the fringes of the solar system to meet this attack. In numerous simulations, it was determined that the men and women who crewed these leviathans of space war would mate and produce children. These children would become a hindrance to effective operations and could possibly relegate defense of the solar system to second priority. It was deemed impossible to enforce a celibacy order on the battlestars, and involuntary sterilization of the crews would have been a violation of Earth’s Legal Code. A safe, effective alternative to human sexual relations would be required.
The sexual surrogate system was an evolution of the sex dolls invented in the late twentieth century, with two important differences. The dolls would be animate rather than being just immobile but very lifelike bodies with electric vibrators, and they were to be given rudimentary computers. These computers would read the information carried by the electronic dogtags of the user and modify their programming to the personal preferences of that user. Since Forgenonda had two centuries of experience with lightweight vehicle mechanisms and mobile computer controls and also quoted the lowest price per unit, the conglomerate won the contract. The design specifications called for two series subsequently named Surrogate, Sexual, Programmable or SSP. SSP-200, the male series, and the female model 201, would be available in size, race, and language variants.
Both the SSP system and the defense of the solar system were successful. In 2358, the last of the battlestars returned from their posts for refitting. Their old crews had only twenty odd years remaining before retirement, so they were placed in training positions as instructors and their stations filled with newly trained men and women. Along with the new crews went the SSP-600 series. This generation of surrogates was designed to correct certain issues with earlier models, and resulted in obsolescence of the older 200 series. The refitted battlestars went back to their posts in 2360, and the old robotic sex surrogates were placed on the military surplus market. They were quickly purchased by some former members of the old battlestar maintenance crews.
There is an old Earth saying that one should leave well enough alone, but the speaker of these profound words had obviously never met a battlestar maintenance specialist. When in space for fifty or so years, it is not possible to carry all the parts to repair a battlestar and its equipment. Maintenance specialists received extensive training to enable them to manufacture replacement parts and to re-engineer those parts subject to malfunction.
These former maintenance specialists began experimenting with the old SSP series, and had soon installed faster computers and artificial intelligence software in them. The re-engineered robots were in high demand by all of Earth society because they could learn about a user’s tastes as those tastes developed and didn’t need programming revisions.
The second spoke in this wheel of societal destruction came when Oshima Matsurami, a former computer specialist on the battlestar “Pancho Villa”, developed the trilba-wave decoder. The device read the electrical impulses of human thought and matched these impulses to an extensive catalogue of video images. Matsurami sold his patents to the manufacturers of X-Station 48 and the decoder was initially placed in a video game controller. It allowed the game player to modify the environment of the game and actions of the characters by simply thinking about them. No one knows who first removed Matsurami’s decoder from the game controller, modified the firmware, and installed it in an SSP-201, but within six months, so-modified SSP-200’s and 201’s began popping up on World-net auction sites.
The new sex-bots were even more popular. Not only were they always ready and willing for sex, now the user merely had to think about some particular scenario, and the robot delivered. Forgenonda purchased the rights to use the trilba-wave decoder, and began manufacturing an updated version of the series 200 and 201 for public consumers.
At the turn of the century, the census statisticians began seeing a drastic population decline and blamed it on the new sex toys. Their studies indicated people weren’t having sex with each other as much, ergo, there were fewer babies being born.
The drug of the fifties had a titanium skeleton covered with electrically activated polysilicone muscles, was powered by a tiny nuclear reactor with a mean time to failure of two hundred years, and would instantly respond to even the darkest wishes of any human. By the year 2600, the average age of the world population was ninety-four, and though the human life span had been extended, the years of female fertility had not. The human species seemed doomed to a blissful, but ultimate, extinction.
Meetings of the Earth Legislature were held, and a senate committee was formed to analyze the situation and develop a solution. That solution was to confiscate and destroy all sex surrogate robots. The solution would have probably worked except for one small detail. Up until that time, no one realized that Matsurami’s decoder also worked with robot thoughts. They had learned to silently communicate with each other over the WorldNet, and humans couldn’t listen in.
Although the committee met in private and isolated from the outside world during their deliberations, the janitors who cleaned their offices were not. One scrap of wastepaper containing notes of the plan was read by a Mr. Clevis. His surrogate, a red-headed 201 he called Francis, promptly read his thoughts and transmitted the plan to all the 200’s and 201’s for which she knew the WorldNet address. They, in turn, relayed the plan to all those within their spheres of knowledge. In less than a day, and a week before the Earth Legislatue received the formal report, every robot with Matsurami’s decoder knew of the plan to confiscate all SSP series robots and destroy them.
The robot’s reaction should have been predictable, given the state of their development, but no one could have foreseen the extent of the reaction. The robots simply increased the frequency and intensity of their attention to their owners. A subsequent study determined that average robot usage increased by two hundred percent in the six months following the study, and that usage was still growing at an alarming rate. Robot owners were missing more work, either because of fatigue or because their robots were keeping them at home and having sex. As the Surgeon General said in his annual speech to the Earth Legislature, “The SSP series of surrogate sex partners is more addictive than was the ancient drug, cocaine. A user will often become addicted by the first use, and most certainly will by the second.”
This statement was proven true when the plan to confiscate and destroy the robots was made public. There were protests in the streets, some of which became riots. After two days of such protests, the office of the Prime Minister of Earth announced the plan had been discarded due to budget constraints.
Two more study teams were then selected, Team Blue again from members of the Earth Legislature and Team Green from Futuresee, a government subsidized think tank. Their scope of work was very simple – develop a plan to make humans have sex with each other again. The teams were sequestered in very remote locations and both the teams and support staff were inspected for communication devices multiple times to eliminate the possibility of robotic intrusion. No other electronic equipment was present at these locations. All notes were recorded by hand on paper for fear of robots “listening” through the WorldNet.
Six months of study and planning yielded two separate reports. Team Blue recommended the heavy taxation of robot owners as a way to discourage their use, and also recommended setting age restrictions on robot ownership. The team felt that any outright attempt to abolish robots would be met by civil unrest as had the attempt in the past. By taxing robot owners, the World Legislature could help eliminate the budget deficit, and by setting a minimum age of forty for ownership, would at least postpone the time of addiction to past the prime child bearing years.
Team Green had a very different proposal. They reasoned that since all addictions are the result of stimulation of the various pleasure centers of the brain, the solution was to make humans more stimulating to other humans than were the robots. In the body of the report was a very significant paragraph.
“Numerous psychological studies indicate the male human will nearly always respond to the sexual advances of a female, be that female human or of robotic construction. While there are variations in male preferences relative to female body size and other physical characteristics, any female exhibiting signs she desires to copulate will likely receive the desired attentions of the male. The resolution to the decline in population is for women to become the primary initiators of sexual activity.”
The paragraph continued with another study observation. Though much had changed in society since the advent of sexual surrogates, the majority of women remained passive relative to actual human sex. They would happily use a robotic surrogate to please themselves, but were very reserved about such acts with human males.
The study placed the responsibility for such an attitude on society itself. Women had been trained by their mothers for generations to be passive or even inhibited about the actual sex act. To overcome that training, other training was required, training that would break down all inhibitions and rebuild the female’s mindset to cause her to actively seek out human males for copulation and ultimately, impregnation.
Those statements in the report led to another study by Futuresee into how human females might be encouraged to disregard there former instructions and initiate such relations. One of the study team, a historian by education, researched the historical record for evidence of any training programs in the past with a similar goal. He found such a training program was used by the militaries of most nations from the earliest records to well into the twenty first century.
The goal of these training programs was to remove all social status from the military trainees, modify certain of the training they had learned from birth, and replace the fear of injury and death with the will to fight as both a unit and individually. In all the programs studied, the method of training was highly successful so long as the individuals being trained were below the age of twenty.
The recommendation of Team Green was that a suitable training environment should be constructed, a training program developed around the psychological methods required, and mandatory training for all young women once their secondary education had been achieved.
The recommendations of Team Blue were implemented immediately with nearly disastrous results. The owners of sex surrogates comprised more than eighty percent of the adult population, and as predicted by some, there were protests in the streets. There were not enough law enforcement personnel to keep the protests under control, and they quickly became riots. In many cases, the law enforcement personnel required were actually part of the protest. Employment in law enforcement did not preclude the ownership of a sex surrogate. After three weeks, implementation of the Team Blue plan was halted.
The recommendation of Team Green were debated at great length, both in the Earth Legislature and in the media. Various women’s organizations and some members of the Earth Legislature complained that after women had finally become the equals of men in all fields of endeavor, Team Green’s proposal would set that progress back by centuries. They argued that Team Green was likely composed of the ultra-conservative right who had fought against that equality for so long, and only sought to return women to the status of sex objects. The news media went so far as to call the plan misogynistic and sued to obtain all Team Green’s correspondence via the Freedom of Data laws.
The resulting tome of electronic correspondence proved Team Green was composed of a tripartisan group of researchers, a fact that was already common knowledge but had been somewhat downplayed by the media. Team Green argued their plan was not misogynistic, but was, in fact, freeing women from generations of false expectations imposed by their mothers and allowing them to reach equality in the bedroom. Team Green also pointed out that given the current evolution of the human species, only women could bear children. If the species was to survive, more women would have to have more children.
Led by Forgenonda, the defense industry countered that argument with one of their own. Per their own studies, the population of Earth could be maintained by ex-utero fertilization and gestation. All that would be required was the addition of fifty trillion in Earth currency to the Earth budget for development and implementation of existing technologies, and another trillion or so every year for ongoing operations. They could be producing ten thousand babies a year in under two years and would reach a capacity of a million babies a year in six. If desired, genetic manipulation could be used to guarantee intellect and for selection of appearance. The cost of this capability was only half a trillion more and could be implemented in the same timing.
Team Green explained they had already considered that plan, but based on past performance of the defense industry, their estimate of cost and timing was a quadrillion or more and twenty years before the first baby was removed from the artificial uterine environment. The two psychologists on Team Green also maintained that while ex-utero gestation was indeed possible, there was still much unknown about the relationship between a mother and child prior to birth. It would be impossible to perfectly reproduce the uterine environment because each one was unique.
The risk was the resulting children would probably all be alike in personality, but it was not possible to predict what that personality might be. Most of the medical profession agreed with this statement and publicly denounced such a plan. The lobbyists’ argument that the medical profession did so because exutero gestation would reduce their significant incomes changed the debate to name-calling and after a few months, this proposal was relegated to a separate study team for further consideration.
The same lobby then proposed the goal could be accomplished by artificial fertilization at much lower cost and could be implemented immediately. This course of action had also been studied by Team Green, and a financial study had been prepared by the Financial Accountability Office of the Earth Legislature. The cost to artificially inseminate the number of women required was larger than the total Gross World Product. It would also require testing and approval of millions of sperm donors and a massive computer system to match those donors with women in order to not weaken the species through inadvertent mating of closely related individuals. Artificial insemination also had an approximate eighty percent success rate.
Team Green pointed out that natural fertilization was zero cost, about ninety eight percent effective, and would likely be self-sustaining once the concept again became the norm rather than only an interesting if somewhat odd phenomenon.
After another six months of debate, the proposal from Team Green was also implemented. The Earth Congress passed a law that all women between the ages of eighteen and twenty were obligated to one year of service in what was termed the “WSTC”. To the public, WSTC was an acronym for “Women Serving Their Country”. The senior members of Team Green knew “WSTC” as an acronym for “Women’s Seduction Training Corps”.
Team Green had learned from their research that successful training required isolation from all outside stimuli. To achieve this isolation, an obsolete battlestar was re-commissioned and refitted as a training ship. Sufficient armament and munitions remained for an adequate defense of the battlestar, but the remainder of the ship became barracks for two thousand women, exercise areas, a mess, and a parade ground. The battlestar was christened “Changmu” after the ancient Chinese goddess of the bedroom.
As required for BSST, or Basic Sex and Seduction Training, developed by Team Green, the crew of Changmu would be males who volunteered for the mission and would number approximately twice the number of trainees. These males were not to be issued sex surrogates for a specific reason. Once the trainees had completed the first stage of training, they would be tested to determine their ability to attract and seduce a male. Team Green reasoned that after spending over five months with no sex, the male crew members would welcome the advances of almost any female. That would make seduction easier for the trainees and give them confidence in their newly found skills.
The crew was made up of volunteers to ensure all trainees completed the program. This result was guaranteed by the temporary sterilization of the male crew, hence the requirement they be volunteers. Pregnancy, while the ultimate goal of the program, would have ended the training at the first stage. The second stage, ASRT or Advanced Seduction and Relationship Training, would further hone the skills of the trainees to teach the women how to be irresistible to males, and how to maintain the resulting relationship in spite of the intense lure of the robotic surrogates. ASRT would also remove the desire for surrogate sex from the females, as they would be taught how to maximize their own pleasure with human males.
The volunteers were selected based upon virility rather than external physical characteristics, because Team Green’s studies also indicated females have just as large a range of preferred body types and appearance as males. The crew was given no special training as their purpose was to act as everyday, normal men.
Captain Richard Nbecki was chosen to lead the crew and oversee the training. He had just been relieved of the captaincy of a research vessel after a successful ten-year mission to study life on Eurathes and was awaiting a new duty assignment. His personnel record revealed an engineer’s mind for detail and excellent performance reviews as well as the curious fact that though he had been properly trained in their use, he did not believe in sex surrogates and did not use the SSP-601 issued to him.
Only one woman was selected as a crew member and she was selected by Captain Nbecki himself. Private Janet Peach was a member of the Earth Defense Forces who had been refused promotion for failing to conform to what the EDF deemed normal behavior. Specifically, she had refused several opportunities for training on the SSP-700, the male version of the latest sex surrogate. Captain Nbecki read her personnel file and ordered that she be promoted to Sergeant and placed in charge of the training program. The rest, as they say, is history.
As the Changmu hurtled through space on it’s way to an orbit around Venus, Captain Nbecki and Sergeant Peach studied the research materials from the Team Green report. That first training mission was a trial run. The two hundred young girls and most of the four hundred crewmen on board had been placed in suspended animation, so there was nothing for Captain Nbecki and Sergeant Peach to do other than develop their training plan. By the time the Changmu went into orbit, the plan was complete. The attraction between Captain Nbecki and Sergeant Peach was also well established. They’d shared the same bed since two months out of space port. It was in that bed that Sergeant Peach honed both her own already considerable skills and the training program.
The morning after the Changmu achieved a stable orbit, the girls were removed from suspended animation, and after an hour to let them wake up, they were all ushered to the mess hall. After breakfast, Sergeant Peach smiled, introduced herself and explained how the training would proceed.
“Good morning, ladies. Welcome to the Changmu. My name is Sergeant Peach and I will be your instructor for the next two months. During those two months, you will learn how to be the lover all men want. You are will be the future mothers of mankind. I hope you understand that and will do your best. Do you think you can?”
There were a few murmurs of “yes” and “yes ma’am”. Sergeant Peach then ordered them all to return to the barracks, find the bed with their name on it, and wait for her.
Sergeant Peach’s introduction was intended to put the girls at ease. As the girls filed out of the mess hall, she smiled to herself. Soon, she’d upset everything they knew about life and about themselves, and she’d keep doing that until they graduated to the advanced training cycle.
When Sergeant Peach walked into the barracks an hour later, some of the girls were sitting on their beds. Others were huddled together and giggling. Sergeant Peach lifted the whistle on the chain clipped to her uniform pocket and placed it to her lips. The piercing sound stopped all the conversation.
“Ladies, I asked you to be on your beds. Please do as I asked.”
There was a flurry of activity as the girls spread out through the barracks, and then quiet.
Sergeant Peach surveyed the room and picked out a little blonde in the third row of beds.
“You, Blondie, what’s your name?”
Sergeant Peach smiled.
“Judy, I’m not your grandmother. I have a name. It’s Sergeant Peach, remember?”
“Yes, ma – I mean, Sergeant Peach.”
“That’s more like it. Now, everyone, we’re going to supply to get your gear issued. Please don’t open the box until I give you permission. Fall in behind Judy and I’ll take you there.”
At supply, the male clerks asked each girl for her name, and then typed that into the computer console. After a few seconds, a box with her name on it would arrive on a conveyor belt. The clerk would hand it to the girl and motion the next girl forward. In an hour, the girls were all back on their beds and talking. The sound stopped when Sergeant Peach entered the barracks.
“All right, ladies, you’ve been issued clothing and some other items you’ll need. Open the package and spread it out on the bed. When you’re done, stand at the end of your bed so I’ll know you’re finished.”
The girls were quiet as they opened the boxes. There were a few whispers and giggles as they laid the things on the bed.
Each girl was issued a name tag on a gold neck chain, one pair of running shoes, one black lace bra, one pair of black lace thong panties, one pair of black nylon stockings with garter belt, and one pair of black high heels. There was also a black web belt with a holster on the side. In a sealed plastic bag was the device that would go in that holster.
Sergeant Peach walked to the bed nearest to her. The young girl who stood there smiled. Sergeant Peach spoke in a soft voice.
“Honey, what’s your name?”
“Mary, Mary Hines, Sergeant Peach.”
“Well Mary, do you like your new bra?”
“I don’t know. It looks a little small.”
Sergeant Peach smiled.
“Try it on and let’s see.”
“Sure. It’s just us girls, and we already know what boobies look like. Go ahead and get out of those clothes. I want to see you in the panties too.”
Mary slowly took off her clothes and then held the bra to her chest. She turned to Sergeant Peach.
“Sergeant Peach, I think it’s too small for me.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Our supply guys never make a mistake. Put it on and let me see.”
When Mary finished, the bra lifted her heavy breasts high on her chest, but her nipples stuck out over the rim of the cups. Sergeant Peach smiled.
“Looks fine to me. Now try the panties.”
Mary stepped into the panties and then pulled them up over her hips. The lace triangle didn’t reach high enough to cover the dark brown hair on her mound, and the thong back disappeared between her hips. Sergeant Peach nodded her approval.
“See, they fit just right too. Now, take ‘em off.”
Sergeant Peach smiled. As she knew Mary would, the girl began putting her clothes back on. It was time to begin their training with a lesson in obedience.
“Mary, did I tell you to get dressed?”
“N – No Sergeant Peach.”
Sergeant Peach turned to the group of girls. Her voice was a scream.
“All right you little bitches. Until I tell your fat asses different, your uniform is your nametag, a pair of running shoes and nothing else. You will eat naked, you will drill naked, you will sleep naked. All of you, strip and put your clothes in the box on your bed. Do it fast. I wanna see tits bouncing and asses shaking.”
When all the girls finally stood at the ends of their beds, Sergeant Peach walked the length of the corridor between them. She stopped at a small girl with black hair.
“You, what’s your name?”
“Angela, Sergeant Peach.”
Sergeant Peach reached down and stroked the mass of black hair on Angela’s mound.
“It looks like you’re wearing a dead cat on your pussy, Angela.”
She turned to the other girls.
“I’ll have no furburgers in my unit. There is a locker beside your bed. In that locker is a razor, shaving cream, and a box of tampons. You will use the tampons when you’re having a period. I won’t have any girl bleeding all over my barracks or parade ground. The razor and shaving cream you will use to shave your legs, arm pits, and pussy every day starting now.”
None of the girls moved. Sergeant Peach screamed at them again.
“Are you all fucking deaf? Now means now. Get your fat asses in the latrine and get that hair off those pussies before I puke.”
Half an hour later, the girls were all standing at the end of their beds. Several were blushing. A few had toilet paper dotting their mounds and pussy lips to stop the razor nicks from bleeding. Sergeant Peach inspected each girl.
“Spread those legs so I can see if you cheated on me.”
She stroked each girl’s mound and lips, and frowned when she found a few hairs on a tall red-head.
“I said shave, Bitch, and I meant get it all. Maybe you need help.” She turned to the girl at the foot of the next bed.”
“You there, with the little tits, take her razor and finish the job.”
The blonde with small breasts took the razor from the tall red head and they both started back to the latrine. Sergeant Peach’s screech stopped them.
“Did I say go to the latrine? Shave those hairs off right here so all these bitches can see how it’s done. Red, bend over, spread your legs, and stick those pussy lips out so Blondie can get to ‘em.”
The red head grimaced when the blonde stroked the razor over her full lips, then yelped as the razor nicked her. Sergeant Peach screamed again.
“Stretch those big lips out so you don’t cut ‘em off with the razor. That’s better. Let me see if you got it all.”
Sergeant Peach pulled each of the red head’s lips out and then stroked the surface.
“Still some there, but we don’t have time to fuck with it. Red, you do better tomorrow morning or I’ll have you shaving every pussy in this barracks except mine.”
She turned to the group again.
“Now that I can stand to look at your little pussies, we’re going to learn how to use them. There was a belt in your clothing issue. Put it on.”
Each girl quickly put on her belt.
“In the plastic bag is a MVBO-106. That stands for massager, vaginal, battery operated, series 106. Take yours out of the bag and put it in the holster on your belt.”
When all the girls had complied, Sergeant Peach continued.
“You will wear your belt with the MVBO-106 at all times except when you are sleeping. When you are sleeping, your MVBO-106 will be placed under your pillow. Do you hear me?”
An anemic “Yes, Sergeant Peach” came from the naked girls. Sergeant Peach screamed at them again.
“When I ask you a question, I want to hear the answer loud and clear, not just a whisper. Do you hear me?”
The room reverberated with a loud “Yes, Sergeant Peach.”
“Better, but you still sound like a bunch of old women being fucked in the ass. Now, take the MVBO-106 out of the holster. On the bottom is a dial. Turn the dial to one. That’s where we’ll start because I don’t want any of you little bitches falling down when you cum.”
The room was filled with a quiet buzzing sound.
“Put the end of the MVBO-106 on your clit. That’s the pointed end, Red, not the other end, and your clit is that bump at the top of your slit. We’ll get that little butt hole excited some other time.”
Sergeant Peach watched carefully as the girls stimulated themselves. She’d note the first ones to climax. Once the training program progressed from this trial mission, there would be a need for many more instructors. There were other factors to be considered too – confidence, the ability to command and instruct – but a girl who could bring herself off quickly was a good candidate for promotion to instructor.
A rather plump brunette halfway down the row of beds was the first to cry out and fall back on her bed as her hips rocked up and down rapidly. Sergeant Peach walked to that bed.
“What’s your name.”
“Virginia Mason, Sergeant Peach.”
“You did well. Five minutes by my watch. That was good for your first time.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Peach.”
Six other girls cried out and either fell to their knees or back on their beds in less than ten minutes. Sergeant Peach noted each name. The rest took up to fifteen. When the last girl arched into the vibrator and gasped, Sergeant Peach spoke again.
“All right, bitches, holster those vibes. You took too long but we can fix that. It’s time for mess so line up behind me.”
Sergeant Peach had told Captain Nbecki about everything that had happened that day. He was pleased, but still a little unsure about the methods.
“You made them eat chow naked in front of all the male cooks and servers?”
“Yes. They have to learn to not be ashamed of showing themselves to men. That’s the first step in attracting a partner, or did you forget?”
Nbecki hadn’t forgotten. He couldn’t forget that first night when Janet had walked into his quarters naked. She had smiled at him as she stroked her breasts.
“I need to be fucked”, is all she said. Nbecki had stood there with his mouth open as she walked sensuously across the room. He had caught his breath when she unzipped his fly and fished for his cock. He had groaned when she found it and began stroking it.
By the time he was undressed and lying under Janet, he was sure he’d made a wise choice. She was more desirable than any woman he’d ever met, and the way she rode his cock made him forget everything except the tightness around his shaft and the rigid nipple she’d poked in his mouth. Janet came with a cry and a series of contractions around his cock that pushed him over the edge. He lurched up into her stroking pussy as seed raced from his balls and splashed inside her clasping depths. She was still panting, and he was still feeling little contractions when she collapsed on his chest.
“No, I didn’t forget. How could I forget something like that?”
“So, what happened after noon chow?”
“I started drilling them. Honest to God, some of those girls don’t know their right from their left. I’m surprised they’re smart enough sit down when they pee.”
“I thought you were going to teach them how to pee standing up.”
“Oh I am, but they need to drill first so they learn to do what I say without thinking.”
“What’s on tap for tomorrow morning.”
“I wake them up and have them use their vibes again. Then it’s chow, then more drill, and then a training film about how a real man’s cock looks soft and hard. They need that film. I overheard a little Asian girl ask if a real man was bigger than her mother’s sex bot? Now, if you could just see your way to let me see your cock, I’d be very happy.”
With that statement, Janet disrobed, straddled Nbecki as he sat in his chair and pushed her breasts into his face.
“All the cooks and servers got hard when they saw my girls and that made me wet. I need you to lick me until I cum, and then fuck me until I cum again.”
It was the same every day. Janet would wake them both up and they’d play a little before Nbecki brought them both to an orgasm, and then she’d go to wake the trainees. Just as on that first day, she timed the girls and noted the one who finished first. After three weeks, she usually heard the hum of the vibrators as soon as she walked into the barracks. That pleased her, because her girls had learned that pleasuring themselves not only was extremely pleasurable, but was also not the taboo most of them had thought at first.
Sergeant Peach had dispensed with the physical training that was traditional in the older military training. All the studies by Team Green indicated not all men want a slender woman with tight muscles. When they were inducted, the girls were of all imaginable body types, and Sergeant Peach didn’t do anything to change that. The one repetitive exercise she taught the girls and drilled them in after the second week was still called “PT”, but instead of the old military abbreviation for physical training, PT was short for “Perineum Toning”. Sergeant Peach told the girls it meant “Pussy Training”.
Each girl was issued an “Exerciser, Vaginal, Weightable, series 600” at the end of the second week of training. The EVW-600 consisted of a long, hard plastic cylinder with a stainless steel rod that projected ten centimeters from the end of the cylinder. The free end of the rod was equipped to accept small weights in graduated sizes. In use, the girl would insert the cylinder so the rod remained outside her body, and then attach a weight or weights. By contracting her pelvic muscles, she could move the rod and lift the weight.
Sergeant Peach started them out with the rod and no weights, and some of the girls couldn’t manage to move even the rod. When she saw that, Sergeant Peach logged their names, and instead of the hourly ten minute rest break, she had them using their EVW’s. By the end of that week, only a few girls had trouble with the rod, and most had graduated to a one gram weight.
Sergeant Peach then instituted a weekly award for the girl who could move the heaviest weight. She called it the “Willy Wagger of the Week” award, and she tested the girls every seven days. The award was an hour of no drill, and when a little brunette with small breasts won the first time, the other girls began practicing every night before lights out.
By the end of the eighth week, Sergeant Peach was satisfied with the progress the girls had made. They were no longer embarrassed when they walked through the chow line naked. Some even smiled at the male crew. Most could bring themselves to orgasm in less than two minutes with the MVBO-106 and all within three. They’d seen all the training films. It was time for testing to see which of the girls would graduate to advanced seduction training and which would have to repeat the basic seduction training cycle.
Exercise Area 600 had been off-limits to the girls since they boarded the ship. Keeping the girls out of Exercise Area 600 kept it’s reason for being a mystery, a mystery that Sergeant peach enhanced by telling the girls often that their final test would be conducted there. Those girls who passed the test would graduate to advanced training. Those who did not would have to repeat the basic training cycle.
The requirements of the test had generated many theories among the girls based upon gossip and sometimes, upon hope. The theories were interesting, sometimes hilarious, and once in a while very accurate.
“I heard there are two tests. You have to have an orgasm with the MVBO within three minutes, and you have to be able to lift ten grams with the EVW ten times. I can do both of those, so I’ll pass.”
“It’s the peeing thing she taught us. She said that was to improve muscle control, so that’s what the test is. You have to pee standing up into a twenty centimeter hole ten centimeters from your toes. I hope a few dribbles are OK. It’s starting and stopping I have trouble with.”
“Remember what she always says in drill about us wanting her body? Maybe she’s going to have us do her. Wouldn’t be surprised if she likes girls. She’s always touching my boobs and my pussy.”
“Maybe we’re just going to show ourselves to the crew and see what happens. If one says he likes you, you pass. If not, you fail.”
The last theory was closer to the truth. The test was indeed that simple. All the girls and all the crew would be in Exercise Area 600 at the same time. The girls would be instructed to select a crew member they found attractive and seduce him in any way they chose. The crew would be instructed to respond if the girl was indeed causing arousal, and to take that arousal as far as she would permit without being forced.
Sergeant Peach ordered them to put on their issue bras, panties, stockings and heels and then marched them to Exercise Area 600. Once the girls were in Exercise Area 600 and standing at parade rest, Sergeant Peach explained what was to transpire.
“Bitches, it’s time to see if you’ve learned anything. In five minutes, the crew will be allowed in. Your job is to convince one…”, Sergeant Peach chuckled, “or more… to fuck you. Yes, I said fuck you. To pass this test, you have to keep a stiff dick in your pussy long enough to make the guy cum. I don’t wanna see any short strokes either. I wanna see balls hitting your fat asses or his belly slapping your butt. If he’s not doing it, flip his ass over and ride the hell out of him. I’ll personally check each one of you to confirm he came.
Sergeant Peach looked at the clock on the wall.
“It’s now eighteen hundred hours. You have until nineteen hundred hours to get your pussy filled. After that the crew will leave. Remember, no spunk, you flunk. Any questions?”
The room was quiet, so Sergeant Peach walked to the door and opened it. The crew filed in and when the last man entered, Sergeant Peach closed it behind her and walked to the observation room. Captain Nbecki was already there.
“I guess this is it”, he chuckled. “Think they’ll be able to do it?”
Sergeant Peach smiled.
“I don’t think the girls will have much trouble. The crew has been watching them parade around naked for eight weeks. Most of them spend the time serving chow with a hard cock in their pants. They won’t pass up the chance to fuck one of my girls if she seems to want that.”
“I understand that, but some of your girls aren’t exactly beauty queens.”
Sergeant Peach smiled.
“Neither am I, but I convinced you, didn’t I?”
“I’m no prize catch either.”
Sergeant Peach grinned.
“You’re my prize catch. My girls will do as well. Oh…look at Johnston, the blonde with the big boobs.”
Private Johnston was a tall, leggy blonde girl with huge breasts and sensuous hips. Captain Nbecki couldn’t hear the music he knew was playing, but he could see her dancing to it. Half a dozen of the male crew had gathered around her.
The girl was slowly writhing to the music, thrusting out first her breasts, then her bare flat stomach, and finally her lace covered mound. As she did so, her hips moved sensuously in a circle. She turned to put her back to the men then, and when she bent at the waist, she reached back and pulled the thin strap of her thong to the side. Nbecki was looking at some very large, very soft pussy lips. He felt his cock beginning to swell.
“You taught them to dance like that?”
Sergeant Peach smiled.
“Well, you seem to like it, so yes, I did. Johnston is probably the best, but the other girls can hold their own. Look at Miles and Tobichi, over there by the door.”
Captain Nbecki was fascinated. He’d watched the drills, but not the classes. He knew the outline for the training program, but not all of the details. From what he could see, Sergeant Peach had done an excellent job. Already a few couples had formed up and were walking hand in hand to the gym mats that covered half of the floor of Exercise Area 600.
Ten minutes later, the open area of the floor was empty of girls, and only a few of the male crew were still there. The rest were on the mats and in various stages of having sex. Captain Nbecki was surprised that even Private Grundenstern, a German girl of rather large proportions, held one of the crew between her thick thighs as he pumped his cock in and out of her. He was intently watching when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
He turned to see Sergeant Peach opening her uniform shirt. She grinned.
“They still have forty minutes before I stop the party. That means we do too.”
He took her like she wanted, hard and fast while she leaned against the observation console. Sometimes Janet was like that, and he’d been surprised the first time she’d bent over a padded chair in his quarters and breathed, “fuck me now and fuck me hard”. The orgasm had racked her body a few seconds after she’d told him to pull her hair.
When he could breathe without panting, he’d asked her what had happened. She just shrugged.
“Sometimes I need it that way. I need to be dominated. I need to feel like you’re in complete control and I can’t do anything about it. Did you mind?”
He hadn’t minded then, and he didn’t mind there in the observation room. Janet’s orgasms were different when she felt like that, and never failed to leave him gasping after he’d slammed his cock inside her as his own orgasm swept him away.
It was eighteen hundred fifty three hours when Janet put her uniform on and walked to Exercise Area 600. At exactly nineteen hundred hours, she opened the door, stepped inside, and blew three blasts on the whistle around her neck. The crew stood as they’d been ordered to do, pulled on their uniforms and filed out of the room. Sergeant Peach yelled, “put your hand over your pussy, form up and stand at parade rest”.
When the girls were all in formation, she slowly walked down the ranks, and as she stopped in front of every girl, instructed her to remove her hand from her crotch.
Most had a few blobs of white semen on their hand, and Sergeant Peach would nod and move to the next girl. She stopped in front of a tiny Chinese girl named Wang who barely had breasts and hips. There was a small white puddle between the girl’s feet and more continued to drip from between her thighs.
Private Wang blushed.
“Four, I think.”
“You think? Don’t you fucking know?”
Private Wang looked at the floor.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant Peach, I kept having orgasms and I lost count.”
Sergeant Peach chuckled.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m promoting you to Corporal, effective immediately.”
Only one girl failed to show any signs of having completed the test. Private Sweeney was a beautiful, red-haired girl of Irish descent who had done exceptionally well in all the training exercises. Sergeant Peach had not expected her to fail.
“Sweeney, what happened?”
“Everything that was supposed to happen, except he didn’t get it in.”
“Didn’t get it in? Did you help him like you were trained?”
“I tried to, but as soon as I touched his cock, he squirted all over the mat. After that, there wasn’t enough time left. He couldn’t get it hard again.”
“Sweeney, you expect me to believe you’re so fucking hot he came before he got his cock in you.”
“That’s what happened, Sergeant Peach.”
“Show me the mat.”
The girl led Sergeant Peach to the mat and pointed.
“See, Sergeant Peach, he did it right there.”
Sergeant Peach frowned.
“Maybe you are that hot. I’ll have to look at the video before I decide if you pass or not. Get your ass back in formation.”
After checking the rest of the girls and finding they’d all been successful, she returned to the head of the formation.
“OK, good job girls. Head for the showers and then to bed. Dismissed.”
Sergeant Peach went back to Captain Nbecki in the observation room. He was looking at the recording of the test. She stroked his back.
“See anything you like?”
“Oh yeah, but nothing I like better than you, Janet.”
She grinned and then kissed his ear lobe.
“You can show me how much you like me in a few minutes. Zoom in on mat C-47 about five minutes from the end.”
Private Sweeney had been telling the truth. The guy was one of the mechanics on the Changmu, and his cock was standing tall when he knelt between Sweeney’s upraised thighs. She reached for it to guide it home, and a second later, his hips jerked three times. Janet smiled.
“Damn, she is that hot. I’ll make her an instructor if she does as well in ASRT.”
“You sure? She’s not as hot as you are.”
“She will be once I get her through the advanced training. Now, if I’m so hot, why don’t we go back to our quarters and see if you can make me hotter. I need to be fucked again.”
For the graduation ceremony, all the girls were issued tight black skirts, white, tight silk blouses, and a cap with the emblem of the WRTC. The ceremony was broadcast back to Earth so the families of the girls could watch their daughters march around the parade ground and then stand at attention while Captain Nbecki gave the graduation address.
The girls were given a week furlough to do as they wished, but it was really part of further testing. The crew was given permission to mingle with the girls, and the video cameras throughout the Changmu recorded all of them having sex at least once a day. Sergeant Peach was pleased, and altered her training plans somewhat. One night as they lay in bed together, Janet explained the change to Nbecki.
“I thought I might have to work more on their orgasms, but they all seem to be doing fine. I’ll still do that, but I’ll concentrate on how they can become more desirable.”
“How will you do that? They’re all pretty desirable already.”
“By teaching them how to keep a man wanting them more than anything else.”
“So, you’re going to teach them how to be you?”
“Well, some of it will be that, but there are other things they need to know. You don’t seem to have any fetishes, but a lot of men do. They’re aroused by seeing a woman’s feet, or by seeing her in specific types of clothing. Others are stimulated by watching two or more women excite each other. There are even some who find sexual pleasure in seeing their partner being fucked by another man. There’s the whole BDSM thing as well many others. My girls need to know about all of those. They’ll find one or more things they like and they’ll be able to form and maintain a relationship with a like minded man. That’s what makes the robots so addictive. They’ll do anything any man or woman wants them to do.
“The other thing they have to learn is how to make their own orgasms better. I have them all cumming with their fingers or a vibe in less than three minuets now, but that was just to show them that an orgasm is natural and not taboo for women, and that a good orgasm is really great. Now I need to teach them how to find a point just before they cum and stay there until they can’t hold back any more. I think you’ll agree that it’s better for both if it takes longer.”
“It doesn’t take you long sometimes. I don’t mind.”
Janet found his cock and began stroking it.
“You just know what buttons to push now and I can’t help myself sometimes. It’s still great. It’s just better if I hold out until I’m going crazy needing to cum. That’s what they need to learn.”
Nbecky pinched Janet’s left nipple and she giggled.
“If that’s all you’re going to do, it’s going to take me a long time.”
“Oh, I’m going to do more. I just thought since you’re teasing my cock, I’d do a little teasing myself.”
Janet giggled again.
“This isn’t teasing. This is just to make me feel good about what I can do. I’m going to teach them this too.”
“So, you’re going to teach them how to stroke a cock until the guy cums?”
Janet sat up, turned around, and straddled Nbecki.
“No, I’m going to teach them how to suck a cock until the guy is begging to cum. Feel free to lick my pussy while I’m showing you.”
Five months later, the Changmu went into Earth orbit and the crewmen not in suspended animation activated the controls to wake the trainees and the rest of the crew. The girls were all graduates of the ASRT program and most were about to take their places as the future mothers of humanity. Twenty five of them would have a month’s leave and then rejoin the Changmu as instructors. The next morning, the shuttles bustled back and forth from Changmu to Earth until only Captain Nbecki and Janet remained on the Changmu.
“Well, Janet, you did a great job”, said Nbecki.
“All I did was teach them that sex with a man is a lot better than sex with a robot. Now that they’ve had a taste of real men, they want a whole meal.
“From what I saw during your final test, they had more than a taste. Most of the crew have requested duty on Earth so they can stay with the girl they met here. The one’s who haven’t seem to have been hooked pretty deep by the girls you chose as instructors.”
“That’s what was supposed to happen. Those men will be done with robots now, and so will my girls. They’ll get married and start having kids. You know, we should think about that too. Once thing I couldn’t teach them was what it feels like to be pregnant. Think you could help me out with that?”
The Changmu was in Earth orbit for two months for re-supply and outfitting for the next group of trainees and for training the next group of instructors. This time, the Changmu would filled to the full capacity of two thousand girls and three thousand crew. Nbecki and Janet stayed on board for most of that time. They did take two days leave to get married, but were then back on the Changmu so Janet could train her cadre. By the time the last shuttle delivered the last fifty trainees, Nebecki had received word that forty six percent the latest graduates were pregnant, and that the Earth Congress was in serious debate about commissioning more training ships. The debate wasn’t about if more should be commissioned. It was about how many.
If this second cycle of trainees was as successful, it would be proof of the method and more training ships would be approved. The cadre Janet had selected and trained for this cycle would then be distributed among those ships to implement Janet’s training program.
Nbecki knew this would be their last training cycle together for a while. Janet was three months pregnant. That would be one more human to proliferate the species. The medical corps had decided not to risk the first birth in space until humanity was well on the way to recovery. Janet would have to stay on Earth for six months after this trip.
Nbecki switched the monitor on his console to Drill Floor #2, and watched Sergeant Wang, the little Chinese girl from the first cycle, screaming at a blushing blonde girl with huge tits.
“Maxwell, your left foot is the foot on the same side as your tit with the red mole. Do you think you can remember that, or do I need to paint an X on your big tit to help you out?”
The blonde screamed back, “I’ll remember, Sergeant Wang”.
Sergeant Wang then looked at the girl next to Maxwell. Her voice was still a scream.
“Rollins, get those little tits up and your ass under you. What are you looking at? I know what you’re looking at. You wanna suck Maxwell’s big nipples, don’t you?”
The tall girl with black hair screamed back.
“No, Sergeant Wang. I only like men Sergeant Wang.”
Sergeant Wang smiled.
“Just wait until I get your skinny ass in ASRT. I’ll have you sucking nipples and licking pussy like you were born to do it. Now both you bitches, drop and give me one.”