Pixie Isobella

‘You’ve been selected to serve as a fertility goddess, Miss Rosen. Your contract starts today…’

Aurora Rosen was having a perfectly normal day… Until she is detained and informed that she must act as a ‘fertility goddess’ for the mysterious warriors who protect humanity from alien invaders. After her pleas fail, Aurora is transported across the ocean to meet her new elite masters…

New story!

‘The Fertility Compact’ is a fun new story that I’ve been playing with. It features gaslighting from authority figures and entrapment in inescapable contracts — as well as aliens and its fair share of monster fucking (when we get that far). Enjoy!

The Fertility Compact: Chapter 1

[The Fertility Compact contains non-consent fantasy erotica, female submission to male characters, erotic enslavement and forced breeding. All characters are over 18.]

‘You’ve been selected to serve as a fertility goddess, Miss Rosen. Your contract starts today.’

The man sitting across the desk from me spoke the words without inflection.

I wasn’t sure if he didn’t care or if he simply didn’t realise that his message wasn’t good news. At least, it wasn’t good news for me. He would undoubtedly receive a commission or even a bonus for his work.

The man had introduced himself as Mr Thaddeus and explained that he was a recruitment and negotiation specialist employed by the multinational corporation Frontier Corp. I already knew he wasn’t a good person. Good people don’t work for giant corporations willing to abduct women from their workplaces into a life of sexual servitude.

When I didn’t speak, he continued in the same dry, corporate voice.

‘On the page in front of you, you will see three places where your signature is normally required.’

‘I’m not signing it,’ I said quickly, defiantly. I glared across the table at him. ‘You can whistle for it. And let me go! I want to go back to work. You can’t just arrest people like this!’

I had been in Frontier Corp’s offices for little more than an hour now, ever since my detention at my work in the morning. I had been kept in chains the entire time. Mr Thaddeus was the first human who had spoken to me other than to order me to be quiet and to obey.

‘If you will look at the contract, Miss Rosen,’ Mr Thaddeus continued, ignoring me except to the extent that a slight note of frustration entering his deadpan demeanour, ‘then you will see that the contract has been pre-filled. In your case, a representative assigned by the government has signed on your behalf. This meeting is therefore merely a formality.’

‘I’m not going to be a stupid ‘fertility’ slave,’ I said vehemently. My arm hurt from where the guards had bruised me during my detention but I couldn’t rub it because they had cuffed my hands together in front of me. ‘I don’t care what the stupid contract says. I’m not doing it. Besides you can’t get someone to sign on my behalf. The government has always been clear that being one of your stupid sex slaves is voluntary.’

I was stuck somewhere between fury and a stark kind of terror. This man was trying to change my life forever and he wouldn’t even listen to me.

‘The contract is binding,’ Mr Thaddeus continued flatly, ignoring my main complaint. ‘You cannot refuse, Miss Rosen,’ he said smugly. ‘If you do not comply of your own accord,’ he permitted himself a slight smile, ‘you will be tied down and forcibly bred.’

I blushed at his coarse words, still glaring at him. I couldn’t believe this was happening. It had to be a bad dream.

‘You should be ashamed of yourself,’ I snapped angrily. ‘Let me go! How can you even do this to people? I haven’t done anything wrong. I was at work.’

‘I am proud to serve my country,’ Mr Thaddeus replied deadpan. ‘As you should be. As we all are,’ he gestured to the four security guards, two standing between him and me, two standing between me and the door. ‘Frontier’s Humanity Advancement Division is proud to recruit and supply the fertility goddesses our country needs in this time of crisis.’

‘You can’t just breed me as if I was a cow,’ I snapped coldly.

Underneath my fury, I was starting to feel cold and scared — as far as I knew, no-one even knew where I had been taken and I was starting to be afraid that this wasn’t a case of mistaken identity.

I don’t really pay much attention to politics but even I had heard that there had been complaints by human rights organisations about the conditions under which fertility goddesses were selected and detained. I shrugged, refusing to believe it. It was too awful — it couldn’t be true that companies like Frontier Corp could just abduct people.

Mr Thaddeus permitted himself another amused smile at my expense.

‘Actually, we can, Miss Rosen,’ he continued. ‘I refer you to page 6 of the standard contract. And again on pages 17 and 23.’ He smirked at me, clearly enjoying his job underneath his bland corporate personality. ‘Think of yourself as a very specialised form of livestock, if you will. With the correct permits, we can forcibly breed you and we will in fact do so.’

‘I won’t do it!’ I snapped, feeling cold and almost teary. Dammit — this had just been an ordinary day at work. How could this happen? I wanted to roll back the clock to this morning when my life was still normal.

Mr Thaddeus chuckled suddenly, a sudden change in demeanour that demonstrated more clearly than anything else how little sympathy he had for me — and how much he enjoyed his job.

‘Your acquiescence is unnecessary, Miss Rosen,’ he smirked again. ‘While we do prefer it when our new goddesses comply, I do assure you that if we implant enough semen into your body at the correct time, it will take root and grow. You may resist but your biology will not.’

I felt a chill slide down my spine. I was mortified at his crude language. Horrified, I tightened my elbows against my waist as if to protect myself — as if to protect my vulnerable belly. I hated him suddenly. I wasn’t livestock, although frankly the role of fertility goddess comes close to that.

The title ‘goddess’ is honestly mostly a public relations exercise. So-called ‘fertility goddesses’ are not divine, they are simply human women, enslaved and used, raped and milked and bred, again and again and again, in an endless cycle of lust and procreation.

Our country — indeed, the whole world — is at war. Fertility goddesses are a crucial part of our defence.

The first stellar invasion happened when I was a child. Soldiers sent by an alien polity known as the Kasar Alliance emerged through fissures in the sky, their attacks raining down on the world. At first, humanity was able to fight back as the attacks overwhelmed our planet but after a few years, our resistance faltered. Alongside their soldiers and firepower, the Kasar’s invasion brought death, in the form of an unusual aging sickness.

Even the strongest of our soldiers did not stand a chance.

Just when all hope was lost, the peacemakers stepped in — an ancient battalion of warriors who travelled the stars to fight the Kasar Alliance’s various invasions.

The peacemakers saved us. They fought for our planet and they won. We owe them everything — not just our present prosperity but also our literal survival.

They asked only one price in exchange.

Life.

We don’t know where the peacemakers originated from, we only know that their biology is uniquely resistant to the Kasar’s withering sickness. They are just as likely as human soldiers are to succumb to the Kasar toxins but they defeat it again and again, re-emerging stronger and harder each time.

I have never met a peacemaker, I have only ever seen them on the news reports. They are — invariably — tall, broad-shouldered figures dressed in black cloaks and serviceable armour. They keep their faces masked at all times. Their voices are deep and almost gentle, except for the price they demand.

The peacemakers’ unique solution to the withering is to replenish their bodies with fertile, abundant life. They only eat the freshest food, they only drink the purest water, and they fuck only the most lusciously fertile women.

When the peacemakers arrived, humanity, desperate to save itself, agreed that one woman in every thousand would be gifted to the peacemakers, to serve as a concubine and broodmare. A generation later, the peacemakers are still defending us from the Kasar Alliance. They have established black towers across the lands and oceans, reaching up into the skies.

They fight and die for us — and we are still paying tribute.

Women who volunteer to act as goddesses have no choice after that point. They have to have sex with whichever peacemaker wants them. Even worse, they are required to breed again and again, turned into little more than broodmares for their hungry masters. By drinking their milk and fucking them regularly, the peacemakers are able to stave off the aging sickness that afflicts everyone who fights the Kasar.

We are informed by our governments and leaders that this is the price we must pay for our freedom.

‘You can’t do this,’ I said again, glaring at Mr Thaddeus. ‘It’s voluntary. We learned about the peacemakers’ tithes at school and our teachers were very clear that only willing volunteers are ever chosen. Go and find a woman who actually wants to do this. Someone who will sign your stupid contract for herself!’ I snapped at him.

‘You’re being idealistic,’ Mr Thaddeus replied smugly. ‘It is the duty of every compatible breeding female to serve, if and when she is called upon,’ he added sanctimoniously. ‘Your biology was deemed compatible in recent sweeps,’ he continued. ‘I assure you, Miss Rosen, that the contract has been ratified, both by the court and by the peacemakers themselves.’ He looked straight at me. ‘You will serve, Miss Rosen.’

I hunched forward, feeling ill. Our government has outsourced identification and detention of new goddesses out to various large private security and personnel firms. These firms locate and train women to be goddesses. I know nothing about politics or national defence, but I knew that I was up against a powerful entity with resources far greater than my own.

‘I’ll appeal,’ I said defiantly, looking up with tears in my eyes. ‘I do not agree to this. I want to serve my country in other ways — by working in the profession I’m trained for, for example,’ I added sarcastically.

‘You will be working,’ Mr Thaddeus sniggered, once again letting me see more of his personality. ‘On your back, with a litter of peacemaker whelps wriggling inside you.’

He chuckled with what seemed to be genuine amusement at my predicament.

I blushed, hating him, and the chains on my wrists and the bland-faced security guards who stood between me and the door.

‘You’re sick,’ I said defiantly, knowing that my words were pointless. ‘You’re a monster.’

I couldn’t run and, if they kept ignoring my protests, I had no idea what I was going to do.

‘I’m a patriot, Miss Rosen,’ Mr Thaddeus continued with a slight smile. Apparently considering the conversation closed, he pulled the so-called contract back towards him, half-turning away from me to tap a couple of words into his computer.

‘You will be popular with the peacemakers,’ he said, still smiling, unsubtly happy at my discomfort. ‘You’re young and you have a good figure. You should be proud that you will be so valuable. The peacemaker warrior you’re eventually assigned to will enjoy you in his bed. And that is all that matters.’

He spoke over my head to a man who had just entered the room, dressed in the same corporate grey.

‘I’m glad you’re here, Sam,’ Mr Thaddeus continued. ‘Miss Rosen’s induction is complete. Her consent to commence her training has been documented,’ he removed the contract off the desk and placed it in a file. ‘She understands the consequences of her decisions,’ he continued, ‘and she has entered into a voluntary commitment to serve. You may take her away.’

‘I haven’t done any of that!’ I snapped, horrified, glaring back and forth between the two of them. ‘I’ve said consistently that I don’t want to do this! This is not voluntary! You can’t do this to me! Stop lying!’

‘Miss Rosen has been somewhat recalcitrant,’ Mr Thaddeus explained to the newcomer, Sam. ‘As you can see,’ he added sarcastically.

‘Your consent has been ratified by the representative assigned to your case, Miss Rosen,’ Sam explained to me.

He enunciated his words slowly as if I was an idiot. I glared at him, almost stunned into silence at both the men’s insistence that I had consented to become the peacemakers’ slave.

‘I haven’t consented to anything,’ I said, feeling tears growing in my eyes. ‘And I don’t understand anything either. You have to let me go.’

I had this horrid sensation of the floor falling away beneath me as my life changed, irrevocably in front of my eyes.

‘The representative understood the consequences of the decision and has entered into the voluntary commitment on your behalf,’ Sam said, the same frustrated note entering into his voice that I had heard from Mr Thaddeus. ‘My colleague here,’ he motioned towards Mr Thaddeus, ‘has simply given you the courtesy of a personal meeting to fill you in on your obligations. I should add,’ he said dryly, ‘that this meeting was not necessary.’

The man met my eyes without flinching, clearly unconcerned by any doubt.

‘I can assure you, Miss Rosen, that Frontier’s Humanity Advancement Division has undertaken all appropriate steps to ensure your recruitment is authorised and ratified,’ he continued. ‘The peacemakers have accepted the contract and it cannot therefore be unmade, even if we or a human court wished to rescind it.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ I said, wondering why I bothered to even keep speaking to them. They clearly weren’t going to listen to anything I said.

‘How you feel about the matter is really irrelevant,’ Mr Thaddeus smiled slightly, clearly enjoying his victory. ‘The representative who signed the contract on your behalf understood that you are needed on the front lines.’

He sniggered, his eyes lingering on my body with evident pleasure. Humiliatingly, I could tell he was enjoying the thought of me being forcibly bred.

‘Those big tits of yours in a peacemaker’s hands,’ Mr Thaddeus sneered. ‘His rod buried deep in your soft insides while his offspring grow inside you. That is how you will defend our country.’

He smirked at me unkindly and I flushed miserably as Sam and the two security guards that I could see also permitted themselves to snigger at me. With six men in the room arrayed against me, I felt more vulnerable than ever.

‘That is your value to society now, Miss Rosen,’ Mr Thaddeus said with an air of finality. ‘I suggest that you accustom yourself to it.’

‘No! Never. I won’t do it,’ I said desperately, again, knowing my words were just bravado. I wanted to kick the table and scream, but I knew that too would be pointless.

‘You will,’ Mr Thaddeus said again with a wink, and then he nodded to Sam and the guards. ‘Take her away.’

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It’s not a manifesto

I write a lot of M/f non-consent erotica, including enslavement of women, degradation and forced breeding. They are not an expression of how the world should be. Everything I write should stay in the hot world of fiction and play. It should absolutely not become part of the real world.

© Pixie Isobella