Canopian Pregnancy

by

Kortpeel

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Rothia wanted us to start a family.

For my part I would love to have a few kids of our own running around but it was the process of conception that was worrying me. It meant that Rothia would have to go outside of the city walls and get seed from an uncut man. I don't care what anyone says, that is a risky thing to do. I've often wondered if there wasn't a better, safer way for a woman to get pregnant.

Still, that's the way that things these have always been done in Canopus and no-one else seems too bothered about it. Rothia tells me that going outside the city walls and taking the seed is itself a kind of rite of passage.

The actual process of getting the seed had never been of interest to me. I'd always known it was a rather distasteful procedure and left it at that. However, now that my wife was faced with it I felt obliged to read up on it.

The text books call the process "fucking." Fucking apparently entails an uncut man putting his penis into the woman's vagina, using the friction from her vagina to stimulate his penis until he "ejaculates." That is until he discharges the seed into her vagina. It comes out of the penis in spurts and, so the book says, is quite unlike pissing.

It made me feel nauseous just to read about it and I was extremely concerned for poor Rothia who would have to subject herself to this ordeal in order to conceive. Fucking could be quite painful for a woman, especially the first time. There was also some risk of infection.

Even worse was the information that conception was not guaranteed. The fucking has to be repeated over and over until pregnancy occurs.

The books recommend that a woman take a positive attitude toward fucking and practice thinking about it and anticipate it during masturbation. Masturbation, for the uninitiated, is the process whereby the husband caresses his wife's sensitive pubic areas inducing pleasurable sensations. A good attitude toward fucking makes it much less painful and unpleasant.

Much as I enjoyed pleasing Rothia by stimulating her sensitive areas I had never had the slightest desire to put my penis into her. It was so, well, bestial. Surely our species is of a higher order of being than animals?

Apparently uncut men have no inhibition about fucking. That is one of the reasons that uncuts are not allowed inside the city. That and fighting, brawling and stealing. It is a system that has been established over the centuries and dates back to the times of the perpetual wars when the only fit task for a male was to be in the military.

In those days when all the uncut men were either off to war or preparing to go, education and civilian tasks such as running the city were left to women and the cut men who remained. They made a good job of it and our city grew during that period. It also became so peaceful and law abiding that the law enforcement budget became almost completely ceremonial.

When from time to time to time uncuts came into the city, say returning soldiers or farmers with produce to sell, there was always trouble. In the end the city established a settlement with a market outside the walls and kept all uncut men out. It's been that way for centuries.

Inside the city we normal males have full and equal rights, as good an education as we can take and unlimited career opportunities. I'm afraid we tend to look down on the uncut illiterate ruffians beyond the wall. We have occasionally to deal with them and it is never a pleasant experience. For one thing they don't wash very often and for another there is always the threat of physical violence. Also they tend to be ill-mannered and loutish.

Personally I'd hate to be an uncut.

However, Rothia and I had to get seed for her first baby and that meant going outside the city to get it. We teamed up with four other couples on the same mission and assembled at the south gate of the city at sunrise.

"God be with you," the gate-keeper wished us as she opened the massive timber gates for the days coming and goings. I seldom had occasion to leave the city and was always nervous about it when I did. I kept my hand on my sword hilt as we went out and I notice that the other husbands were doing the same.

One of the wives was going out for her second child and she told us what to expect as we walked along the dusty track to the uncuts' settlement.

"Look them in the eye and don't let them see any sign of nervousness," she advised. "Don't insult them, just treat them courteously and don't give them any reason to take umbrage."

"What if you see one that you think would provide good seed?" one of the wives asked.

"Tell your husband and he will ask the uncut if he will provide it. They never refuse."

As we approached the settlement Rothia became more nervous and clung closer to me. I felt apprehensive myself. We could smell the livestock in the market and hear the bellowings and bleatings. We passed some ragged children, boys and girls, playing their war games. We saw women around as we got to the market, some from the city, smart, elegant and clean. Others were the uncuts' women. They seemed old before their time, grimy, wrinkly and worn down. Those women gave us hostile, resentful glances as they tended the livestock and market stalls.

The woman who'd been here before led us past the market to a cluster of shacks. I saw my first uncut. He was a big man with hair all over his face. You could only see his blue eyes and his nose that poked out through the hair. He was crippled and walked with a wooden crutch that supported his left armpit. The woman said that most of the uncuts had been wounded in fighting.

The wound would not affect his seed quality. We had to look beyond the superficial appearance and the wounds, some of which were quite hideous, and try to see what the man was like before the wound.

The uncuts didn't say anything or molest us. They just stared at us. Most of them wore the tattered remains of their military uniforms, the faded false glory of what had once made a splendid heart stirring sight. In my childhood, before my gelding, my mother had taken me outside of the city to see the soldiers go off to war. Their uniforms of red and gold, their weapons and shields sparkling in the sunlight made a grand sight. I had been proud of our army. So had Simon, my older brother.

I realised that our party was staring at the uncuts. If you looked into their eyes there was a haunted look as if they had seen and been through horrors beyond telling. It was chilling. Most of them were apathetic, content merely to sit around and do nothing.

It could have been me there. I'd been lucky enough to do well at school, pass the exams and have the option to stay in the city. Taking that option was the best decision of my life. I have never regretted it. Seeing these pathetic, beaten and broken uncuts simply confirmed my good fortune in my choice of path in life.

My brother Simon too had had the option but had refused it. He remembered the grand spectacle of the army setting off for war and decided that was for him. Consequently, when his voice broke he left home and went for military training. That had been a tearful day when he left. My mother and sister were beside themselves with grief. We got letters from him for a few years but then he left for the Gortic front and we never heard from him again. When, years later, we had a letter from the army to say that he had been killed in the fighting it merely confirmed what we already knew. By then of course I had exercised my option to remain in the city and was getting a full education.

After Simon had joined the army I knew that my mother and Arnella, my sister, wanted me to stay but it was Egred, my mother's husband who really persuaded me. In his quiet way he pointed out that for all its superficial glory war boiled down to killing people or being killed. It was negative and destructive. Much better, he pointed out to be in the City, help build it and run it. That was something constructive.

His argument struck a chord within me. I wanted to join him in his building firm. The idea of designing buildings and putting them up appealed greatly to me. I told my mother I'd decided to stay and work with Egred one day.

Mother was delighted and watched me for signs of puberty. The real tell-tale sign is growth of pubic hair and when shortly after my twelfth birthday she spotted it she arranged for my gelding.

The gelding ceremony is a big day in a person's life. It marks the end of boyhood and is formally the entry into the community of the city. It is also the beginning of the process of becoming an adult. The priestess went on about all that at great length and with much enthusiasm during the ceremony. Although the priestess organises the cutting and prepares the boy for it, the actual severing of the cords is regarded as a great honour for any female and a guarantee of good fortune. It was my choice who should do it so I asked my mother to cut off my left testicle and Arnella to sever the right testicle. I was surprised that it didn't hurt at all although it was a bit sore for some days until the cut healed.

Mostly what it meant to me was a change in status, I was no longer a child, and I was allowed to wear clothes. Apart from a blanket on very cold days children were considered not to need body covering. Most of the time that was true but there were times, always in company, when the penis would unaccountably decide to stand up, and it was so embarrassing. People would always comment and older females felt obliged to grasp it.

It was all in good natured fun and it was the custom but I hated it. Most boys did. Being allowed to wear clothes meant being spared all that.

After that I got on with my education. Rothia chose me for her husband before I graduated. I say "chose me" because that is the polite way to put it. Really the whole deal is worked out by the parents years in advance.

Once we were formally betrothed it was Rothia's duty to train me in how to attend a woman. Of course, my mother and Arnella were both very forthcoming with advice as well during that period. It was at that stage that I learnt how to masturbate a woman and please her in that way. Apparently this is most important and it is all something to do with women having to have babies. I suppose you can only really understand it if you are actually a woman but at least I learnt what to do and Rothia always said she was satisfied with my efforts.

Once we were advanced enough in our careers to set up a home we did so and became husband and wife. This was the stage when it was expected of Rothia to produce some progeny. It's weird how people, especially potential grandmothers, will happily natter on about the joys of motherhood but tend to gloss over the vulgar details of conception. I know girls get taught about fucking and what to expect at an early age so they have years in which to accept the idea and prepare for it. Rothia didn't seem all that daunted at the prospect of being fucked and I had to admire her fortitude in that respect.

"What about that one?" Rothia said. She was looking at a well built uncut, younger than most. You had to look closely to see that his right hand was carved from wood and painted to look real.

"You want me to ask him?"

"Yes."

I went over to the fellow. He remained seated on the ground, leaning against the wall of a shack. He looked up as I approached. He must have known what I was going to say but Canopian etiquette demanded that it be said.

"Greetings Soldier."

"Greetings Townsman." His voice was incredibly deep. I knew that uncuts have deep voices but it had been so long since I'd spoken to one that I'd forgotten.

"I am asking you for seed that my wife may conceive a child."

"My seed you may have."

He put out his left hand for me to help him to his feet. I did so. He moved with difficulty. Probably his right leg was damaged too.

"First I would bath," he said to me.

He walked slowly and with a limp. To speed progress I got him to put an arm over my shoulder so that I could support him. In doing so I became aware of his physical strength. I also became all too aware that his bath was long overdue. I was relieved when we arrived at the public bathhouses and could get away from the stench. I felt contaminated and would have bathed too but the stink was in the fabric of my clothes and really I needed to change.

Rothia bathed him in a tub of hot water. She had expected this and brought soap for the purpose. He emerged smelling a lot more agreeably and wearing a simple robe that Rothia had also brought. His clothes had been stuffed into a small bag.

I became nervous as we approached his shack. Custom calls for the husband to be present when his wife is being fucked. I knew my duty and would do it, distasteful as it would be. Fortunately the uncut's shack wasn't too squalid. I was relieved that inside it was clean and tidy although the few chattels were of inferior quality.

I'd read that fucking normally occurred on a bed and there was a bed, suitable for the purpose.

The uncut took off the robe and was naked. His body was covered in scars. I saw that the right arm was gone below the elbow and the right leg at mid thigh.

Apart from the glories of war his body was lean and taut compared with mine. There was little fat but much ugly hair all over his coarse skin. Perhaps most surprising of all was his giant, hideously ugly penis. It stood out from his hirsute groin, a grotesque parasite with a life of its own. The mere sight of it made me feel nauseous. The testicles that he had opted to retain and which had caused him all the problems in his life hung down below the penis in a scruffy, hairy bag. It was disgusting to me that a man should choose to carry these obscene appendages.

I would have left there and then but I realised that poor Rothia had to endure these obscenities to get the seed that she needed.

The uncut watched with a kind of predatory interest as I undressed her. She moved onto the bed and got into the position shown in the text-books. The uncut went to her. He stroked her breasts and his hand moved down to her pubic area. His actions were a crude, untrained version of the masturbation stimulation that I so often performed on Rothia.

Poor Rothia had to submit to this. I notice oily droplets appeared at the outlet of the uncut's penis. A moistness was present at Rothia's labia. The uncut inserted a finger into her vagina, then two, then three. I realised he was trying to ensure that she would be able to take his penis. Rothia simply lay there, legs spread and her eyes closed, breathing deeply. I imagined she was dutifully enduring the treatment.

The uncut moved onto Rothia and placed his penis at her labia. It seemed outrageous to me that her beautiful, sweet vagina should have to be invaded by such a grotesque obscenity. I sensed that Rothia herself was eager to have it done with. She made arching movements as if she were trying to make him get on with it.

He began to press. I saw the lips widen, forced apart. Rothia let out a cry. There was a momentary obstruction, soon overcome and then that huge great slug of flesh disappeared slowly, almost inevitably into my poor sweet Rothia, right to the hilt. It was the most horrible, disgusting sight I have ever seen.

The uncut held it there, motionless, for a while. Although I knew that uncuts are lacking in sensitivity it was as if he were holding himself back, presumably out of consideration for Rothia. He began to slide slowly in and out of her. This would be the friction that would lead to the release of his seed I thought. He continued like this, moving slowly and stopping from time to time. I would have thought that he'd get more friction if he were to move more quickly and not keep stopping. However, I knew that friction generated heat so perhaps it was to permit heat dissipation that he would stop every so often. I noticed that Rothia's body had turned a pinkish colour and her face was flushed. Maybe she was getting hot?

After a while I knew she was. There were tiny beads of perspiration on her face and body. She began letting out funny little whimpering noises. I realised that she must be in terrible distress by this stage and I felt so sorry for her. Why was the uncut taking so long? It was almost as if he were trying to prolong the ordeal.

I would have stopped the process but having gone this far I decided that we might as well go right through with it. I sensed that no permanent harm was being done to Rothia. Whatever her present suffering she would get over it. In any case, this it seemed was the price that a woman had to pay to get pregnant.

The little whimpers were getting louder, becoming cries. This was too awful. Call me oversensitive but I just couldn't take any more. I had to get out.

Outside I was able to calm down. Poor Rothia was suffering in there. To take my mind off it I took the uncut's dirty clothes from the bag and began to wash them in the trough outside his shack. It felt good to be doing something and have my mind occupied. From time to time I would hear Rothia cry out. She was obviously in an extreme state. However I had to let it continue until she had taken the seed. By the time I had the washing hung up I realised it had gone quiet inside the shack.

I looked in. The uncut, who'd put on his robe, saw me. He bade me be quiet. Rothia was asleep on the bed, one hand on her breasts and the other caressing her pubic area. She must have been so pleased it was all over. There was a little smile on her face. There were creamy spots on her labia so I presumed she had taken the seed.

Outside the uncut said it was good for her to lay down for a while as it improved the chances of conception. That made sense. He also said that it would be wise to come back every day until she had definitely conceived. I wasn't so sure about that but it did agree with the text-books. I told him that I would leave it to Rothia to decide for herself. He thanked me for washing his clothes.

He seemed surprisingly courteous and well behaved for an uncut. He explained that he had been an officer and they were instructed in a code of chivalry toward women and cut men. "Not that we always live up to our standards," he admitted with an honest grin.

He told me something about his life in the army. His stories of the fighting and killing chilled my blood. His amputations had happened when his unit was stopping a Gortic cavalry charge. Two blows of a sabre had ended his career and condemned him to the life of a seed giver. "It's not my first choice but there are compensations," he told me.

I couldn't see any compensations at all but now that I'd come to know him a little I was feeling pity for him rather than despising him.

Rothia and I walked back to the city. She tried to tell me what it had felt like to get fucked. It was almost as if she needed to talk about her experience. However I was so overcome with relief that she had come through the ordeal so well that I just let her babble on.

My wife was so determined to become a mother that she and I went every day to the uncut for seed. I could only admire her courage. She tried to persuade me that it wasn't all that unpleasant for her but I knew she was just being brave. It took several months and by that time her pregnancy was beginning to show before she was convinced that she was pregnant and that no more seed was necessary.

I think Rothia was relieved that it was all over. Her mind was taken with her pregnancy and impending status of motherhood.

As I feel our baby kicking inside her swollen belly I can feel nothing but love and admiration for Rothia. How well she bore all the fucking that it took to get pregnant. I'm so glad there are women in the world. And it's just as well that there are uncut men who will donate seed that women can have their children.

If our child should prove to be a son I do hope he will opt to remain in the city. I'd love to teach him the joys and the beauty of building and architecture. I would really hate for him to become one of those pathetic uncuts, a mere giver of seed.

End