Mars Still Needs Women!
Chapter 1

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, TransGender, CrossDressing, Hermaphrodite, Science Fiction, Robot, Humor, Space, Slow, Transformation,

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A superior alien ship arrives from Mars and no earth weapons can stop it. It feeds and grows, and eliminates most of the world's men, feminizing the survivors into slaves. Earth's hottest women are carefully selected for some sinister purpose as world culture devolves in a hyper-radical feminist oligarchy. One plucky lad (turned mostly into a lass) dares to discover their hidden secrets and thwart the evil bitch Empress Zulla!

Everyone who saw the Martian spider shaped space craft climb out of the smoking crater it had crashed into agreed, that the large central round metal sphere surrounded by eight slender articulate and extremely long legs looked like a giant metal spider, and ought to be promptly squashed accordingly. Some experts on the TV said it most closely resembled a 'Harvestman', the most common 'daddy long legs' insect, which isn't really a spider at all, but agreed something big and military ought to step on it pronto.

The UN, our President and a host of talking heads from various governmental think tanks all thought that inter-species communication and inter-planetary trust and trade were of far more benefit. Besides, they hadn't figured out a way to talk to yet, and no one was quite sure what political correct folder to add our new alien visitor in. No military options were even being considered, the President said.

Being an educated young lad and a student of culture, I knew better. I'd watched that episode of Jonny Quest as a boy where the evil Dr. Zin had sent a robot spy-eye to steal Dr. Quest's top secret ray gun. Obviously the wily Martian thought this was a clever idea worth borrowing.

Right from the start I knew that no good was going to come out of this. If just one tank or bomber commander had had the balls to waste the fucker in these early vulnerable days, about five billion lives would have saved ... easy.

No one was really sure however where our new and rather unwelcome guest had actually come from. Space Command had tracked the small craft coming from the direction of Mars, but no one knew if the ship had actually originated there or was merely doing the standard seven day tour of the SOL system, i.e. if this is Tuesday, today we visit Earth (make sure your shots for the common cold are up to date), Wednesday we'll visit Venus so wear your acid resistant footwear, etc.

All of the usual TV talking heads espoused various theories why this particular alien had come to visit the most ass-backwards part of the known universe, far out on the unfashionable wing of our particular galaxy. Left with a whole lot of nothing that passed for real news, 'our Martian visitor' became the new media watchword.

Our 'visitor' wasn't talking. Puny humans tried to get its attention in dozens of ways but were soundly ignored. Our namby-pamby politically correct President and Congress just wrung its collective fingers and dithered while doing nothing and continued to leave the alien alone.

The craft had an agenda all of its own and it was too busy (or self important) to bother with the likes of us monkey-descended riff-raff. It ignored all attempts to communicate and benignly disregarded the increasing amount of top-shelf military hardware that was now shadowing its every move. Its tendency toward garbage picking through our trash seemed to hold its interest much more than us.

Simply put, our Martian 'harvestman' scooted across the countryside sampling the garbage dumps available to it until it found just the right one. About a week after landing in New Jersey (no, not at Grover's Mill, ala the 1938 radio version of War of the Worlds radio show) the craft wandered its way into Ohio and parked itself down on the ground near the outskirts of Akron and proceeded to more or less dismantle and eat up a couple of warehouses storing computers, televisions and other tech-waste electronic parts stored there to be eventually disassembled and recycled.

It didn't bother to say please or even thank you, but in less than a week it had gobbled enough formerly high-tech trash to double in size three or four times. Where originally the central sphere had been about the size of a city bus, now it could be easily mistaken for the old Astrodome, as it was now a couple of hundred yards in size.

About this time, some one-star Ohio National Guard commander got tired of waiting for Washington to 'do something' about this oversized pest that was growing larger by the day and he decided on his own authority to send in the tanks. His local Air National Guard counter-part decided belatedly to come along for the ride and the pair of them finally sent in all of their toys to squash this metal insect once and for all. Well, not quite ... it might have worked a week ago, but not now. A day late and more than a dollar short, but still you couldn't blame the poor guy for trying.

The Martian ignored the first couple of smart bombs and sabot penetrating anti-tank rounds and even went 'ho-hum' when the A-10 Warthogs started to rake it over with their 30 mm GAU-8/A Avenger Gatling guns with depleted uranium rounds. When the napalm started to turn its dinner into molten metallic soup it began to get a tad annoyed however.

Slowly and methodically it rose back up on its legs and turned its attention to chastising the folks who were disturbing its lunch ... extremely effectively I might add. An hour later every tank, attack helicopter, A-10 and F-22 Raptor was a crushed metal pile of junk ... perfectly bite sized for recycling by the craft. At least it left a neat and tidy battlefield, one late night comedian quipped.

Once the minor little skirmish was over, the Martian went back to its lunch. And the Pentagon went back to the drawing board.

There were persistent media rumors that on at least three occasions' nuclear weapons were dropped or fired at it ... none detonated. The four star generals and most of the smarter politicians started to make themselves extremely scarce and retreated into their 'Oh Shit!" caves deep underground and the still dithering President of the United States even admitted on national television that 'military options had been taken off of the table at this time.'

Lovely. A perfect case of snooze and you lose.

Refreshed from its light snack, and quite a few sizes larger once again, the craft rose up into the air again like a round behemoth that could blot out the entire sun over a decent sized city, and it flew off to give the rest of the world's garbage a bit of a closer examination. Mostly it continued to ignore the human occupants while it completed its inspection, but the toxic tech waste dumps of China and Eastern Europe proved to be tasty temptations it couldn't resist. The largest, a junk yard on the Chinese coast near Hangzhou, contained at least half of the world's stock of trashed electronic components and was gobbled down like the finest caviar.

"Om Nom Nom!" was a featured news headline and caption for at least a week as the alien craft ate, and continued to grow until it was over a mile in diameter, and then the first FemBots began to appear.

Then things started to get weird.

As an increasing army of FemBots began appearing in all of the major cities of the world, they began taking a close minute examination of mundane human life, and apparently weren't too terribly impressed. They were nominally peaceful, and didn't seem to be looking for trouble, but they didn't take any shit from anyone either. Shoot them and they'd shoot right back ... harder. Guns and military rifles were fairly ineffective against them and didn't frighten them one bit. It took anti-tank weapons or a lot of explosives to disable them, but after awhile hardly anyone bothered. They seemed to appear far faster than they could be destroyed, and it really annoyed them to get shot at.

Only the wackjobs in North Korea fought on to the bitter end against these implacable unwanted visitors and in less than two weeks the shapely female robots had completely kicked the ass of the world's fourth largest army ... rather convincingly and frighteningly fast. It was like watching Gulf War I all over again, except with an entire country becoming a figurative 'highway of death'. Nasty.

Even now we still weren't worth speaking to. The FemBots had yet to say even a single word, but they were already gathering an army of devoted human followers and admirers, and even I had to admit that these robotic creatures of mayhem were quite decorative. They were almost anatomically perfect human females a bit over six feet tall, very busty and they looked like something from a bad British 1960's sci-fi show, with brightly colored hair cut into a short but perky futuristic style. They wore bright metallic silver mini-dresses complete with matching 'go-go' boots. They looked mod and hot, as if they were dressed for a night on the town at a swinging 1960's Soho discothèque, but world domination would do instead in a pinch.

Did I mention their large breasts that held firm without a bra and displayed inch long nipples that clearly poked unrestrained underneath the thin filmy fabric? Don't let the beauty fool you ... they were still robots. Rumors were that only their faces and tits were modeled female perfect, and that their short skirts covered only smooth faux-skin covered metal. Too bad, otherwise they would have been the dream love doll.

Martian styling soon became 'in' and every designer raced to pull out their weirdest 1960's 'B' movie era sketchbooks to bring the Mod 'Go-Go' craze back into style on the world's fashion runways. At least one good result of this was that the bra (and even panties to a significant degree) were now very much out of fashion and eschewed by the younger and more hip generations.

Latex or leather body suits and corsets, rubber halters, sheer mesh see-through tops and other vintage 1960's fetish clothing became 'must wear' wardrobe items. A year ago it would have been too outrageous even for slut-wear at a sleazy night club, but now it was paraded in daylight on main street USA. Ahhhh, it was good to be a red-blooded American male! Well ... for a little while at least.

Then things definitely started to get even weirder.

After about three months, the Harvestman finished its hearty dining at Hangzhou and its main body was now approximately two miles in diameter. It bloatedly staggered its way back across the Pacific, after a stop to devour a phosphate rich small island in the south Pacific, it returned back to the USA to Pittsburg, Pennsylvania and our Martian made its first public demand: It wanted steel, lots of it, and keep it coming. There was a very clear sense of 'Or Else'.

Some pundits saw this as a clear 'Win-Win', either this would revitalize the US steel industry or else it would devour Pittsburg and then start eradicating the rest of the rust belt. No one, except for the local politicians in Pittsburg, had much of a problem with either option.

And so the steel began to flow, slowly at first and then in a mass of national production unseen since the 1950's. Over the next couple of months the Martian grew slowly but dramatically until the extent of its multi-jointed legs reached out to their maximum of about five miles from body to tip and these original eight legs then fused to become the framework for a new even larger spherical structure that would be about ten miles in diameter when completed.

Now the world governments really began to worry. I think every nation on earth that had a nuke on a rocket, plane or even a flatbed truck launched them. Darned near every single one. Not one exploded. All landed as duds near the harvester and were recycled.

A new fresh army of FemBots appeared, and this one was loaded for bear. The lovelies now had a nice long list of demands; take it or leave it. The 'Or Else' part was now blatantly obvious.

Clouds of smaller shuttle planes were ferrying FemBots into every major city in the world, nonstop night and day with no signs of stopping. There were millions of them now, each virtually indestructible and possessing instantaneous communications with its peers, and possessing more raw firepower than an M-1 Abrams main battle tank.

There wasn't a lot of violence at first, but as the FemBots slowly took command over every single military base, government executive office, state/province capitol, city hall and police station in the world, they made it very clear from the start exactly who was now in charge, and that disobedience meant instant death.

I'm not sure if their July 4th 'Independence Day' declaration speech at the UN was intentional or just extremely ironic. My guess would definitely be for 'intentional', and something inside that space ship was probably laughing itself silly. No one else in the UN that day was laughing however.

The demands were straight forward and non-negotiable.

Zulla was now to be hailed and acknowledged as the Divine Empress and Ruler and Mistress of this world. Any and all resistance will be met by death. Under Zulla, administration of this planet was to be conducted by a seven member executive panel of human women, to be selected by Zulla. All other lesser government positions, national and local were to be also now held strictly and only by women. There were to be no men whatsoever in any position with any authority over a woman; the female sex being far innately superior to that of men, according to the Divine Zulla. Men were to be stripped of all legal rights, including voting and owning or managing property. Their rights and properties would automatically transfer to the senior matriarch of each family. Males then becoming 'chattel', the property of the maternal line - pending their examination and 'inspection' for their fitness to serve in menial positions, primarily hand-tool technology agriculture. Human society was to denationalize all borders, assume a single world currency and single language, English. All newspapers, radio and television were to cease operation until appropriate approval by the new government. All females were to be examined and selected for 'superior breeding characteristics' while the majority of the males would be culled as 'unnecessary and surplus to demands'. Can you say eugenics? Yep.

Holy Crap! You know, of course that this meant war! Way more than just a day too late and multiple dollars too short.

The largely male run governments of the world naturally did not take this lying down, and even the vast majority of women could see where these decrees were leading and joined the last great fight for freedom. The rebellion was glorious, romantic and utterly doomed right from the very start. Think of ten thousand or more Warsaw Ghetto uprisings, each violently short and ultimately pointless, snuffed out nearly all instantaneously at a horrific cost in human life. The FemBots didn't mind one little bit wading their pretty Go-Go boots ankle deep in human blood.

Isolated sniping continued afterwards, but the entire revolt was pretty much squashed worldwide in less than three days. The Muslim countries and some of the Latin American nations I must admit stood firm to their macho guns and went down shooting nearly to the last man, and along with a great many heroic women too. Brave and glorious, yes ... but in the end it was all fairly pointless. Even long time political foes of Iran had to shed a tear watching Tehran being destroyed so completely that the entire city was just ankle high rubble after the battle was over.

No one ever heard an estimated final death toll, but rumors placed it in the hundreds of millions, maybe even a billion people dead in total, martyrs to alien tyranny. Numbers way too big to be fathomed.

In my own town, Homestead, Florida, things were fairly quiet here during the rebellion, but we could see the flames of the ruins of Miami off in the distance. Homestead used to host a pretty big Air Force Base back in the Kennedy to Reagan eras, but now it was a pretty quiet Reserve base. It lost all of its planes and crews over the unfriendly skies of Pittsburg earlier and there just wasn't much left to put up much of a fight with. It was already so insignificant that the FemBots never bothered to secure it until the final day of the revolt.

Me and some high school buddies ran down there right at the start of the revolution and we gleefully accepted some M-16's and all the regular milspec ball ammo we could carry, but those puny .223/5.56 rounds just didn't do shit to a FemBot. It took damn near a full clip to get any sort of penetration and then we had to pray we'd hit anything vital. Much too long for our safety since after the first shot or two they were shooting back at us!

After discovered that we were trading a buddy's life for every BotBitch we took down, we ran back to the ruins of the base and started to scrounge before everything got flattened. Eventually we found some better armor piercing ammo that with a good accurate three-shot burst could take a bot down, but we couldn't carry and pass around nearly enough ammo to even make the fight even remotely fair. By then the revolt was crushed, and our little teen underground had to fight smarter and more subtly.

There were quite a few veteran retirees in the area and they taught us teenaged kids how to do some discrete sniping from the edges of the swamp, where their IR sensors couldn't distinguish our body heat from the hot swamp background ... usually. Small stuff - all hit and run. Even we dumb kids had figured out that standing and fighting was suicide, as was shooting at the same target more than once from the same hiding spot.

One old retired SEAL in our group had a .50 caliber Barrett with some special armor piercing rounds and with just the right headshot he could take down a BotBitch. One shot — one kill. He disappeared on a night recon mission to Miami to try and find us some better military hardware upgrades from the former drug bosses there. The rest of us never did find where he stashed his Barrett ... we could have used it to make a few of our fights a bit more fair. We were losing people fast, both men and women that we couldn't replace.

I need to inject a brief sad note now, largely about the growing number of human female traitors, called 'Benedicta's', that quickly adopted the alien radical feminist agenda and even outwardly approved of the drastic eugenics plan that would sterilize or outright murder about 90% of the world's men. They were Quislings to the human race, and they were unashamedly proud of it. Once they started to get politically organized, they wore outfits nearly identical to the BotBitches, except they wore as their badge a screaming red colored short hair wig that emphasized their call to 'purge the human race of the malignant male influence' with blood. Lots of it.

They were batshit insane, but their numbers seemed to grow every single day. Some folks just have to be on the winning side no matter what the cost ... I guess many other women and young ladies thought it would help keep them and theirs safe - not a chance.

Their patron saint, other than the divine (and still unseen and mysterious Empress Zulla), became the batshit insane radical feminist Valerie Solanas, and their bible was her 1968 book 'The S.C.U.M. Manifesto' (Society for Cutting up Men), which advocated the utter gendercide of all men. It didn't surprise me at all to learn that this acclaimed genius and beloved martyr of ultra-radical feminism died in an insane asylum, just like the infamous Marquis DeSade.

They called themselves 'The Sisters for the Purification and Preservation of Mother Earth', but were known as the 'Sisters' for short. Everyone else called them 'Benedicta's', after Benedict Arnold and they soon became a 'shoot on sight' target in those dog days after the failed rebellion. We couldn't easily kill the FemBots, but getting a headshot on a Benedicta somehow felt even better to us.

Still, we couldn't kill them fast enough.

CNN was the first television network to comply with each and every one of the Divine Empress's propaganda standards and soon became the gushing mouthpiece for the Benedicta's and the radical feminists of the new ruling party. From what I could see on TV and read between the lines, the Benedicta's were everywhere now, in every country around the world that wasn't already a smoking wasteland. Tens of millions of them, and their numbers were growing daily.

If we killed a hundred of them every day, another two hundred women ran to sign up and don their wigs. We couldn't kill them fast enough and we stood no chance in seven hells of ever wining either ... but we still couldn't just quit. At least not while we had remaining ammo.

Slowly, however, the human race started to get culled in a massive 'tag and bag' operation that covered every remote corner of the world over the next year. The BotBitches with the help of the Sisters did most of the triage, but there were lots of SkyEyes floating around everywhere that had cameras and electronic trackers that could identify and stun any 'unregistered' humans, male or female.

They tagged me in the early going while at high school one late spring day when a dozen of the BotWhores arrived en-mass and ordered the entire student body into the school gym to strip down for examination, triage and tagging. Some folks tried to run for it but I don't think anyone made it. SkyEyes stunned down the lot of them and they made us drag them all into the center of the basketball court.

All of the girls underwent Inspection first, even the couple of dozen or so gals that had already joined the junior Girl Scout version of the Sisters (they had red berets instead of wigs), and ordinarily I might have enjoyed checking out all of their nude perky bodies, especially a few of the cheerleaders, but us guys were ordered onto our knees with our heads pressed flat to the hardwood facing away from them so I didn't get to see much of anything.

The process went pretty fast though. A FemBot took a small blood sample from each girl in turn and analyzed it in less than five seconds. Her genetic markers determined the level of breeding stock she was classified as. There were a few 'A's and quite a few 'B's and most of the rest of the acceptable females were declared as rank 'C's. The C-grade girls were sterilized on the spot with an injection and a glowing beam of light that pierced into their genital region that apparently destroyed their ovaries.

About 40% of the girls ranked even lower and these culls were quickly separated off and sent outside to a waiting transport flyer, still nude and very much under guard. They were never seen again.

Using this proportion of scale from just the sample of my high school, I figure that at least 70% of the women of the world had now become either sterile, or were about to become someone or something's midnight snack, or worse.

When done, the girls who had passed inspection were given their ranking cards, which also passed for the new world-wide identification card, and they were allowed to dress and then they made to sit in the school auditorium to await further instructions.

The 'selection' of us guys was even tighter. I was close to the end of the line, being in alphabetical order, and from the corner of my eye I was able to watch a lot of my friends and classmates being hauled off to a very unpromising future. They took my blood and injected a microchip into my left hand where all of the alien bio information on me would be stored. I was graded as one of the rare 'A's and was relieved to find that I would be staying ... and unaltered, but I was very much in a minority. About three quarter of my male classmates had been taken away into the waiting cull flyer, already dead. They didn't waste any time.

The 20% or so of the other guys who ranked as 'B's, about 20% of us, were all sterilized and given an injection and a dose of some alien shrinking ray that reduced their cock and balls to the size of a walnut. Ouch! Then they were all taken off to await transport. I got the idea that these unlucky fellows were now the primary male labor pool, doomed for toiling on some farm somewhere. I guess it was better than being dead, hopefully.

I had been confident that I would be one of the survivors; I was pretty buff since I had been the backup Quarterback on our football team last year and I would have been the starter this year, now that I was a senior. I was also pretty smart and held my own in classes and I thought I stood a great chance for a full-ride scholarship at FSU. Well, not anymore. Men were not allowed in college these days and football was now a very endangered sport. It had been banned at all colleges and there were no longer any professional ranks either. Nor was there anymore baseball or men's basketball either. Six months of spending every non-school hour playing rebel soldier in the swamp hadn't hurt my physical development either.

The rest, the 75% or more of poor guys that graded out below a 'B' had been given a brief injection that killed them right on the spot, dropping over while in line instantly dead. I guess they weren't even worth the oxygen to kill somewhere else. The bodies were drug off outside to wait for 'recycling'.

When it was over, just a handful of guys joined the girls in the school auditorium.

It's hard to even speak of social injustice, when over three quarter of the men in the world were just suddenly executed, but I strongly suspect that our mysterious alien overlord Zulla has a racist streak. Not one asian or black girl was left unsterilized, but a few of the Hispanic girls seemed to pass muster. No doubt the NAACP would be filing a protest with our divine empress, if any of them were left. I was pretty sure that the BitchBots had no inclinations of conducting their exterminations of humans on the basis of a politically correct racial quota system.

Our school had about eight hundred students enrolled that morning. By the time we left for home, there were only about two hundred and eighty left, but only a hundred and twenty kids that were still 'fertile', including the only seven remaining boys, such as myself. Granted the dating odds looked to be nicely in our favor now, but this was much too frightening to be a laughable situation.

The triage situation outside of school in Homestead was much worse. Apparently us handful of kiddies were now to be the main prime breeding stock. Every senior citizen was gone, disappeared into transports. Most adults, especially over the age of forty were gone as well, unless they possessed a 'critical' highly skilled occupation, (such as senior water/electrical engineers or technicians that maintained public utilities) but nearly all of these remaining survivors had been sterilized. However, fairly young women in their prime childbearing years of 19-30 seemed to incur a fairly similar rate of survival, sterilization or disposal as the high school girls.

The triage rate among children below the age of thirteen was even higher. About 90% of them just disappeared, like most men, unless they tested as 'A' list potential.

Crunching numbers a few days later after the majority of the FemBots had left town to continue their work elsewhere, I tallied a bunch of guesses about earth's current human population numbers and didn't like much what the final total was. Especially if I assumed that our Martian alien bitch queen didn't much like the African or Asian genetic racial profiles and didn't want them contributing to her little eugenics project. One very optimistic estimate suggested that earth had lost or will soon lose at least eighty percent of its human population. Probably leaving only something like one billion people left, out of over six billion just a year ago. Plus or minus a few hundred million.

The numbers of available 'fertile' humans to restock the planet also looked less than satisfactory. I couldn't get a firm grasp on the exact fertile male to female ratio, but it was something like seven or ten to one. Great odds for the guy, I guess, if you like being slave breeding stock, like a lone bull in a pasture full of heifers. The problem was sooner or later the bull is going to get slaughtered and a new bull brought in to service the herd.

The scariest part was that this was just the first 'initial' triage, and there were hints of another one to follow sometime in the near future.

Yeah, the alien empress had ended famine and pollution on earth alright, largely by wiping out a really huge chunk of the human race!

The next step for the alien bitch queen empress's plan for domination of the earth involved a choice selection from the most nubile 'A' list young women left. Ten thousand of them were to be individually selected and delivered to her craft, which was now a full ten miles in diameter, a huge perfect sphere without any noticeable external legs now.

Some of the 'A' men were also starting to disappear as well, and I started to become extremely nervous about my own future, if I even had one.

Now I was certain that I was living in some bad parody of a 1950's horror movie. Mars really did want women, it seemed!

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