The new rules

The auditorium inside the main South London Extraction Facility was packed. Rows of white-uniformed nurses sat in tense silence under harsh fluorescent lights. The air was thick with perfume, lube residue, and nervous energy. Mary sat between Sally and Senga in the third row, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Aunty sat one row ahead, back straight, radiating that unshakable calm.

Dr. Richard Harlan, the clinic director, stepped onto the small stage. He looked exhausted but determined, clutching a thick folder stamped with the official crest of Project Mumford & Sons.

“Ladies,” he began, voice amplified through the speakers, “thank you for coming on such short notice. What I am about to tell you comes directly from the Prime Minister’s office and has been approved at the highest level.”

He paused, letting the weight settle.

“Here are the new rules and laws.”

A projector screen lit up behind him, displaying bold text:

FERTILITY PRESERVATION ACT – AMENDMENT 7

“PRIORITY POPULATION PROTECTION DIRECTIVE”

“You have been chosen,” the director continued, “as the most sexy, beautiful, and effective ladies we have across all clinics in the South East. Your bodies, your skills, your presence… have been deemed critical national assets.”

A ripple of uneasy murmurs spread through the room.

Harlan raised a hand for silence. “In this hospital and every clinic across the United Kingdom, we have been charged with the sacred duty of preserving our great country’s future and the genetic purity and strength of the UK population.”

Mary’s stomach dropped. Purity? The word tasted sour.

“By the power vested in me by the Prime Minister,” Harlan declared, “we are now officially expanding and reclassifying this facility. What was once a simple extraction centre is now a full Semen Extraction and Genetic Preservation Clinic. You will no longer simply collect. You will optimize. You will seduce. You will inspire maximum volume and quality. Techniques that were previously ‘tolerated’ are now encouraged — oral, vaginal, breast, full body contact. Whatever it takes.”

He clicked to the next slide. Strict new quotas appeared:

Minimum 45 extractions per senior nurse per day

70% must be high-genetic-value donors (young, healthy, British or approved European stock)

Bonus points for pregnancies resulting from “natural” insemination during shifts

Mandatory uniform upgrades: shorter skirts, lower necklines, optional lingerie underneath

Sally leaned over and whispered, “They’re turning us into state-owned whores.”

Mary didn’t reply. Her mind was

[screaming.

No](http://screaming.No) matter how you slice it… this is cheating on my husband.

The thought repeated like a broken record. Poor Tom. He’s already wearing that horrible shirt and cage because he touched himself while looking at my pictures. And now they want me to openly fuck strangers for the ‘purity of the UK population’? Those bastards.

Mary’s Monologue

She stared at her hands as Harlan droned on about new incentives, bigger bonuses, priority housing, and even limited reproductive rights for top performers.

How did it come to this?

Mary’s thoughts spiralled. I used to hold elderly patients’ hands as they died. Now I hold strangers’ cocks as they cum inside me. I tell myself it’s for survival. For the country. But every time I spread my legs or open my mouth, I feel Tom’s heart breaking a little more. He tries so hard to be supportive. He cleans me every night like it’s holy communion. But I see the pain in his eyes.

She glanced sideways at Aunty. The older woman sat perfectly still, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer.

Even Aunty must be struggling. She has Elias now watching her… and still she sings hymns while other men fuck her.

Senga, on her other side, was grinning. “Finally. No more pretending. If they want me to be a cum-dump for Britain, at least pay me properly.”

Mary felt sick.

After the Meeting – Canteen

The four women gathered at their usual table. The atmosphere was heavy.

Sally spoke first, voice small. “They basically just told us to get pregnant by donors if we can. For the ‘purity of the population.’ What does that even mean? Are they trying to engineer the next generation through us?”

Aunty sighed deeply. “It means they are playing God. Deciding whose seed is worthy. My Elias… his seed is no longer considered valuable. So now they want women like us to carry the children of ‘approved’ men.”

Senga laughed bitterly. “Welcome to the new eugenics, ladies. With extra tits and hymns.”

Mary finally spoke, voice trembling. “I can’t stop thinking about Tom. He’s at home right now, probably wearing that awful red shirt, locked in a cage, terrified I’m going to come home full of another man’s cum again. This isn’t just work anymore. This is… sanctioned adultery on a national scale.”

She looked down at her wedding ring. “Every load I take feels like another betrayal. Even when he licks it out of me later and tells me he loves me… I know it’s destroying him inside.”

Aunty reached across the table and took Mary’s hand. “We all carry our crosses, child. Some heavier than others. But we must keep going. For the babies that might still be born. For the men who have lost hope.”

That Evening – Home with Tom

Tom was waiting exactly as Mary expected — kneeling in the living room in just the red WANKER shirt and his steel cage. The moment she walked in, he crawled forward and pressed his face against her thighs.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me what the new rules are.”

Mary sighed, running her fingers through his hair. She told him everything. The quotas. The encouragement of full sexual extraction. The “purity” language. The pregnancy incentives.

Tom trembled against her. “They’re turning you into breeding stock.”

“Yes,” Mary said quietly. “And I have to obey. Or they’ll punish both of us.”

She guided him to the sofa, sat down, and pulled his head between her legs. As he began licking her clean from the day, she continued speaking.

“I feel so guilty, Tommy. Every single day. I keep thinking… this is cheating. Real cheating. Not just hands anymore. I let them fuck me. I moan for them. Some of them are so young… barely legal. And then I come home to you like this.”

Tom’s voice was muffled between her thighs. “I know it’s cheating. I hate it. But I need it too. I need to hear it. I need to taste it. I’m broken, Mary. The Act broke me… and I think I like being broken now.”

Mary moaned softly as his tongue worked deeper. “The director said we’re supposed to prioritize ‘high quality British stock.’ They’re basically telling us who is allowed to breed through us. It’s disgusting… and it turns me on. God help me.”

Tom whimpered loudly.

Later That Night – Deep Monologue

After Tom had cleaned her thoroughly and she had edged his caged cock for nearly an hour, they lay in bed together. Mary spooned him from behind, one hand idly playing with his locked balls.

“I used to dream about us having children,” she whispered. “A normal life. Now I might get pregnant by a stranger because the government decided his genes are ‘pure’ enough. And you’ll be here, locked up, raising another man’s baby while wearing a shirt that says WANKER.”

Tom shuddered. “If that happens… I’ll still love you. I’ll still raise the child. Because you’re doing it for all of us.”

Mary kissed the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve you. Even when I’m riding some hung donor tomorrow, moaning like a whore, I’ll be thinking of you on your knees waiting for me.”

She squeezed his cage gently.

“The new rules are going to make everything worse… and more intense. More sex. More cum. More humiliation. Are you ready for that, my sweet cuckold?”

Tom’s voice was hoarse with lust and love. “Yes, Mary. I’m ready. Destroy me if you have to. Just keep coming home to me.”

The Following Week – First Day Under New Rules

The clinic was busier than ever. New signs everywhere:

“MAXIMUM EXTRACTION. MAXIMUM PLEASURE. FOR BRITAIN.”

Mary’s first donor of the day was a tall, athletic 22-year-old white British lad. Under the new rules, she didn’t even pretend it was clinical. She stripped fully, oiled her body, and rode him slowly on the bench while he moaned her name.

This is cheating, she thought with every bounce. This is wrong.

But she kept riding. Harder.

[Deeper.

In](http://Deeper.In) the observation room, Tom watched with clenched fists. Beside him sat Elias, teeth gritted, watching his own wife take another man.

The new rules had arrived.

And every single person in this broken world was learning to live — and cum — under them.

To be continued...