Chapter 2

Heather seethed for a good long while after being intimidated and shoved by Paul. She discussed it endlessly with Grace. At first she thought the other woman was just sticking up for her son, right or wrong.

But gradually she had come to see that the situation really was very different from the outside world they had left behind.

For one thing, Jacob really just wasn't interested in sex with women at all. He was gay! She'd brought up the subject with him very indirectly, and he'd denied it in a way that let her know that he kind of knew he was, even if he hadn't accepted it yet. So she wasn't going to tell another soul. You didn't out someone.

That left Paul as the only man on a largely unpopulated island. She understood the young women's eagerness to have babies. The open space and the plentiful food just made babies seem right.

She didn't like to think about the copulation that was going on. Her memory of the one time she had been penetrated made her shudder. It just seemed like a horrible act. Yet she knew intellectually that men and women had been doing it forever. And some women apparently did find it pleasurable. But she still thought that giving in to that temptation was part of feeding the patriarchy. Pleasure lay in the clitoris, not the vagina. But choice -- it really was about choice, wasn't it?

Reason only goes so far, though. Every time she thought of Paul as ruler of the island, Heather's blood pressure shot up. Heather and Grace knew far more about the world than any of the younger generation, they knew the evils of the patriarchy -- they knew best. It was unfortunate that Paul thought his ideas were better. But democracy was the right way to go, in theory, and its time had come on their island. And men did deserve the right to participate in democracy -- though she couldn't get over her gut feeling that the world would be a better place if it was run by women.

Grace had pointed out early on that he didn't tell the others what to do. Paul had never threatened Heather again. She'd never ordered him around again either, while some men in the patriarchy would have made a point of showing her who was boss.

Paul had been trying to help Heather's daughters get pregnant for years without success by the civilized method. He had given them semen to insert into their own vaginas, and she fondly recalled how she had conceived all three of her children by that method. But that hadn't worked here. And the disgusting animal act of copulation had made both of her daughters pregnant, and now Kira too.

As Tara 's due date approached, Heather and Grace marshaled all their knowledge and what materials they could in preparation for the birth.

And so it came to pass that by way of a completely natural childbirth -- not that she had any choice -- Tara had brought into the world a perfect little girl who she and Paul named Stacy.

A couple months later, Molly had given birth to Peter. It was a breech delivery, but they had managed it somehow.

The presence of babies made the fight against the patriarchy slip from Heather's mind. When she saw the love in Paul's eyes as he held his son or daughter, she thought there really was hope. Maybe she could worry less about the ultimate shape of their little society and enjoy life right now. Other times she reminded herself that vigilance was the way -- eternal vigilance.

Heather woke as from a nightmare, and then realized that the voice she heard was not coming from a dream. It was faint but distinct.

"No, no, please! Anything but that! No, no, leave me alone!" said a high voice.

"Forget it, bitch. You're mine!" said the low voice, who could be no one but Paul.

She was up at once, frantic, and pulled on her robe. The memories flooded her of her own rape: the knife, the sneer of the man as he'd violently penetrated her body, his laugh as she cried in pain, his running commentary on how good it felt...

She must at all costs protect this woman, as no one had protected her. She emerged from her hut, and thought of shouting, but then thought again of how Paul could overpower her with ease. She couldn't best him by strength alone. Looking around, she grabbed the replacement porch railing they hadn't put in yet, and followed the sound.

"Ow! No, you're hurting me! Please stop, no, no..."

"Shut up and hold still, bitch," growled the man's voice.

She turned the corner and saw them. There was the woman, on her back, dress shoved up around her middle, shaking her head from side to side. And there was the man, with shirt on but lower part naked, mounted on her, bottom contorting as he violated the woman, hard, over and over. His hands pinned her upper arms to the ground, and he grunted, muttering, "You dirty cunt, filthy cunt..."

Further enraged by the horrible language, in one motion Heather approached and swung the board hard, bringing it down on the man's head.

He groaned and fell limp onto the woman, who said, "What the hell? Paul?" She scrambled out from under him. "Who... ? Heather! What the hell?" It was Alison.

"Are you all right, honey? I came as fast as I could."

"I'm fine. What did you do to Paul? No, no ... Paul! Paul!" She was screaming now.

"I know a rape when I hear one, and that was rape!"

"You killed him! We were pretending! It was make-believe!"

The words stung. her whole world upside down. Figures appeared in the moonlight, bending over Paul, talking with Alison, glancing warily at Heather. It was Grace who took the board from her hand.

Paul wasn't dead, but he was unconscious for many days. Some young woman was with him around the clock, as he lay in his bed in his hut. Heather lay in her own bed for much of the day -- crying, stunned, guilty. It was her son Jacob who came to sit with her and offer her comfort. She had told Ruth about her rape, but Ruth had been dead so many years now ... Jacob was the second person she revealed it to. She didn't go into all the detail, but she conveyed how horrible it had been. Jacob listened and accepted.

Then Paul began to stir, to everyone's delight. He opened his eyes weakly, but gave no indication he understood what anyone was saying. He swallowed some broth Kira offered him. In the ensuing days he was mostly out cold, but occasionally woke to drink more broth.

Alison was beside herself.

She thought about what Heather had heard. They had been acting their parts with gusto. "Please stop! No, no!" "You dirty cunt, filthy cunt!" Not much doubt what it sounded like. Heather had been doing the decent thing.

Had Alison killed Paul? Not entirely. She told herself all Heather had to do was shout or ask what was wrong, and it would have been cleared up. But still, it felt to Alison like a big part of it was her fault.

She wanted a baby so much. She and Paul had been trying different things, and this rape play had been her idea -- though he had been enthusiastic and needed no convincing. To do it outside, on the ground, in the middle of the night was an added twist.

Days turned into weeks. The mothers brought their babies in from time to time, hoping they might help Paul come back to life. Heather never visited, and Jacob wasn't there often. Grace, Kira, and Alison were there most. But they eventually left him alone at night. He didn't have crises that needed attention -- he mostly just slept.

One thing Alison noticed was that sometimes there was a lump under the sheet. When she was alone with him once, she peeked underneath and saw Paul's organ in its stiff readiness.

The rape play had been at what she estimated was her most fertile day, and she occasionally had the guilty wish that Paul had ejaculated before Heather knocked him out -- just possibly she would have at least gotten her baby. But as it came around towards her fertile time again, she considered. Paul certainly liked sex. If they all thought babies in the room might give him some interest in life, why wouldn't some sexual stimulation?

She crept in to his room in the middle of the night and caressed his face and hair. He didn't stir. Removing the sheet, she ran her hands over his body -- a body she had liked when it just belonged to her little brother. But more recently she had come to adore it. Then she let her hands approach his limp penis. She lightly caressed his pubic hair and ball sac and the penis itself. Slowly it filled with blood. She rubbed it gently with her hand. As it got stiff, she made her hand like a vagina and stroked up and down gently. It got fully stiff. On impulse, she bent over and took the tip in her mouth as she continued to stroke up and down. She'd never done this before -- he was her brother, after all, and attempted impregnation was really the main point of their time together. She tried different things with her tongue. She felt his pelvis push up just a little. Instantly she stopped and looked to see if he was awake, but there was no sign of it. She engulfed his hot, swollen knob in her mouth once more and began flicking her tongue. All at once his pelvis pushed up a little harder and a great flood of weird-tasting stuff erupted in her mouth. Startled, she pulled her head back and saw two more spurts shoot out.

She gave a guilty smile as she spit out the contents of her mouth. At least his parts still worked. Some part of his brain must be happy? She remembered her ultimate purpose, hitched up her dress, straddled his body, and fingered the semen up into her vagina as best she could.

Actually she had just assaulted him sexually -- he certainly was in no condition to give consent. She wet a cloth with the water from the pitcher and cleaned him up. No one else should know about this.

The next night was the early side of her fertile period as best she could tell. She crept into Paul's room in the middle of the night, got him erect with her hands, and then mounted him in the moonlight. They had tried this position sometimes, so she knew how to do it. She impaled herself on his erection and began to go up and down. It was a good position for giving herself an orgasm ordinarily, but she didn't care about that now. She very much wanted Paul's orgasm. She lifted herself up and down, trying to imitate the motion he used when he was about to come. It was tiring work, but eventually his pelvis lifted up slightly once, and she immediately went up and down faster. She felt his pelvis push upward a little more than usual and when she held still, felt faint twitches in his penis. A few seconds later, right on cue, she felt it begin to shrink inside her. But she stayed engaged, looking down at him, tears in her eyes. Many minutes later, when his penis was just an insignificant floppy thing, she pulled away.

Alison crept quietly into Paul's hut and looked into his room, then froze. Another figure was kneeling by the bed, mouth on Paul's penis much as hers had been before. It was Jacob! As she watched, she saw his lips come off Paul's organ, which started shrinking as Jacob spit out the contents of his mouth. He then mounted Paul in reverse direction. Since the head of Paul's bed was towards the door, it was Jacob's backside she saw, and she saw him using his hand to rub the shrinking organ around his anus. He then turned around and straddled Paul's pelvis. With one hand he encircled Paul's phallus, and with the other he jacked his own penis rapidly. Seconds later, his semen spurted onto Paul's chest and Jacob sat back, breathing heavily. Only then did he see his "wife" Alison watching him.

"Oh, shit," he said softly. "It's not what it looks like, I swear!"

It was hard to see any other way to see it. But she strode forward. "I wanted that stuff."

"Um, which?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting to find you here, now, was I -- but I'll take all I can get. Shovel it into me -- that's the least you can do!"

So as Alison herself straddled Paul and held her vaginal lips open wide, Jacob dutifully fingered up the combined mess of his and Paul's ejaculations and tucked it up inside her.

When she dismounted and sat on a chair by the bed, Jacob put his pants back on and sat on the other.

"So you're gay. That explains a lot." When Jacob didn't say anything, she continued, "OK. Hmmm. I'm sorry. Your mom's gay, right? I mean a lesbian. And it's just fine. It's fine to be gay. But not so good for a woman to be married to one..." She paused, making connections in her mind. "And so it's really easy to uphold the feminist ideal if you really don't want to have sex with a woman at all."

"Feminist ideals are good. Sticking my penis into any of you is the most disgusting thing I can imagine," he said. "You want to know my fantasy?"

"Um, OK."

"Really? I mean my real fantasy?"

"Yes, tell me."

He pointed. "I want that cock up my butt! Deep and hard -- so hard it hurts. Violent penetration!"

Alison shrugged. "Maybe it's not violent between men, since neither one of them is a woman who can get screwed by the patriarchy."

Jacob smirked, then giggled. Alison giggled. Soon they were both laughing. She rose to give him a hug, which he accepted warily.

"So am I an OK person? You don't despise me?"

"No," sighed Alison.

"It was really hard to get pestered constantly... 'Give me some sperm!' And then later, 'Why won't you fuck me? Paul does it!' Over and over again."

"I'm sorry. Why didn't you just tell us?"

He paused. "You know the person who I didn't really want to find out..."

Alison thought a moment, then pointed at Paul.

Jacob nodded. "I couldn't stand the thought of him rejecting me, making fun of me. I've been in love with him for years."

"I'm sorry, Jacob..."

"And then when he went into his coma, I'm grief-stricken, like everyone else -- but I can't really show how much. And then, it dawned on me that I might finally be able to have sex with him. And it's creepy and disgusting."

"Poor Jacob," said Alison, hugging him. "I can't blame you. Look what I'm doing."

"Well, you know he'd love to be banging you if he was awake, trying to get you pregnant."

"Well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him. I mean, he's not gay, that's for sure, but he'd want you to be happy, right? He's a nice guy."

"Yeah," sighed Jacob, caressing Paul's hair. With a glance at Alison, he bent down and gave him a slow, significant kiss on the cheek.

Alison said, "When we get him cleaned up, you want to come back to our bed and just lie together, like brother and sister?"

Jacob nodded. Then he smiled and said, "HE's your brother!"

"I know," whined Alison. "It's complicated, isn't it?"

Jacob came out to everyone, and a source of tension in the community was relieved. The women felt like they were getting to know the real Jacob for the first time.

Everyone marveled at the babies' milestones: head control, creeping, crawling...

Just a week after Alison and Jacob's heart-to-heart in the middle of the night, Jacob sought her out during the day, reporting that Paul had stirred as he was getting him erect. He wondered if she he should stop, and after much talk, he reached the conclusion Alison had -- he really had to.

Paul was slowly getting better. He was awake a lot more, and he began to eat solid food. He walked around his room unsteadily for brief periods. He didn't speak, however, or give any indication he understood what was being said. It wasn't deafness -- he didn't respond to obvious attempts at sign-language communication either, and he did startle in response to loud noises.

Alison stopped visiting him at night shortly after Jacob did. It just felt like sexual abuse if he was aware of what was going on but couldn't really consent.

But by the time her next fertile period came around, her thoughts took a different direction. She wanted a chance for a baby -- she deserved it! And while Jacob was willing to give her semen for her to shove up into herself, they'd been doing that for years without success. What had worked for the other three was real penis-in-vagina violation. Paul was vital as a male animal. When in his right mind he had been very enthusiastic about fucking away like an animal -- Alison felt a little thrill just remembering. So what if his mind was that of an animal -- why not relate to the part of him that was working?