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Archive name: bounty1.txt (MFF, preg)
Authors name: Sakka (sakka66@aol.com)
Story title : Bountyville - 1

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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002.  Please
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Bountyville - 1 (MFF, preg)
By Sakka (sakka66@aol.com)

***

Ardent feminist scholar Bella Ramble travels west to 
wreak havoc on famous polygamist Uriah Bounty. However, 
Bella finds the wives of Uriah surprisingly happy with 
their lives, and finds her cold demeanor slowly slipping 
away under their influence...(inspired by "The Patriarch" 
by Nick, and Homer Vargas), (inspired by material from 
"The Patriarch" by Nick, and Homer Vargas)

***

Standing behind her lectern at Featherview University, 
Dr. Bella Ramble was nothing if not impressive. Her eyes 
were dark violet--nearly black--and they perfectly 
complimented her shoulder-length black hair and bangs. 
Over six feet tall (in the spike-heeled pumps she 
favored) she seldom smiled, but she knew she had the face 
of an angel, and the figure of a goddess. 

That bothered her in younger days--since she generally 
despised men-- but since then, she had learned how to use 
her beauty as a weapon. Dressed in a tight purple suit 
and skirt, she took a special delight in the squirming 
discomfort of the few young men who had managed to last 
until the end of the semester.

Of course, most of her students were female--hard-core 
feminists who eagerly gobbled up her man-bashing Feminist 
Lit seminar. Most of their wardrobe was ordinary--the 
standard melange of T-shirts, jeans and sweats--but a few 
of them were picking up the art of power-dressing, which 
gratified the 28-year old Dr. Ramble.

"In sum," Bella said, "history is the story of woman's 
exploitation by man. Men fear us--they see in our vagina 
the wound of castration, and they see in our womb the 
power of creation which they lack--and that is why they 
seek to enslave us. But patriarchy is an aberration--a 
quirk of history shifting the locus of power away from 
the fertile Earth Mother, and into the sterile impotence 
of bankrupt, male-dominated ideology. This is a condition 
our generation will correct, and those who oppose us will 
be emasculated accordingly."

Pausing dramatically, Bella took a secret pleasure in the 
squirming discomfort of the young men--unwittingly 
lowering their hands to shield their genitals.

"That is all. Have a nice summer."

A moment later, the young women arrayed before Bella 
erupted in applause, and she absorbed their acclaim with 
token modesty. Inwardly, she was pleased to be in her 
element--influencing the minds of impressionable young 
people--and she let them continue applauding for several 
seconds before she finally stepped out from behind her 
lectern to take a bow. The clapping let up after that, 
and the students began to drift out the twin exits.

It was only then that Bella noted a familiar figure 
rising to stand up from a seat near the back of the room. 
It was Lydia Wilder--the dean of the School of Feminist 
Studies--and Bella frowned slightly at her dress and 
demeanor. For a woman in her late forties, Lydia was not 
bad-looking--she had curly-red hair and a figure that was 
classically Rubenesque--but Bella found her wardrobe 
excessively feminine, currently comprising a navy-blue 
skirt and blouse, with cork-soled sandals. But what was 
worse, some of the young men actually paused to speak 
with Lydia-- something they never did with Bella.

"I see you're fraternizing with the enemy," Bella said, 
coldly, after the students were gone.

"Oh, Bella," Lydia said, approaching the front of the 
class, "sometimes, I think you take your militant 
feminism a little too seriously."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bella said; "I wasn't aware the male 
patriarchy had been overthrown during my lecture."

"Well, I'm not saying you're not popular with the 
students; I just wish you'd tone it down a bit. I was 
looking at your syllabus, and your lecture titles are a 
little strong, don't you think? 'Castration as a Theme in 
World Literature'? 'Impotence as the Impetus of Modern 
Society'...?"

Bella crossed her arms, shook her head, and sighed.

"I see that women of your generation don't understand the 
modern dialectic. You seemed to think that burning your 
bras, and marching for the ERA, was somehow going to 
magically overthrow the male power structure. I say this 
is a war between the sexes, which must be fought 
accordingly." 

Lydia shook her head, half-awed by Bella, and half-
shocked. It was no wonder that Bella's boyfriend was a 
nervous wreck; Lydia had only met Bernie Wigglebottom 
once, but the mild-mannered banker almost fainted when 
Bella started talking about how small his penis was. Of 
course, Lydia could understand Bella's attraction to 
Bernie--the ultra-feminist Bella was not overly fond of 
being penetrated.

"Well, anyway," Lydia said, "I was wondering about your 
plans for the summer. Going off with Bernie somewhere?"

"Please," Bella said, "that worm already benefits enough 
from my presence. No, actually, I was planning on 
visiting Bountyville."

"Bountyville? What, that polygamist town out west?"

"I see you've heard of it--a wicked den of pro-male 
proselytizing."

"What do you mean? I heard it was just a farming 
community..."

Sighing, Bella reached into her book bag and pulled out a 
novel. Lydia recognized it, of course; 'My Pussy, My 
Friend', was written by Hera Decopolis--a former 
professor at Featherview University.

"This pathetic work," Bella said, "illustrates the danger 
of Uriah Bounty. As I'm sure you know, Ms. Decopolis 
produced this gushing, pro-male pablum after being 
brainwashed by Uriah Bounty. I understand she's even had 
six children by the bastard..."

Bella shuddered.

"Well, so what?" Lydia said. "Hera always was pretty 
uptight. If Uriah's half as well-hung as they say he is, 
I can almost see why she'd want to stay with him."
Bella was appalled.

"Please say you're being facetious." 

Lydia sighed.

"Okay, so I'm being facetious. Now what is it about this 
novel that's got under your skin?"

"This novel," Bella said, shaking the book accusingly, 
"is nothing less than a bald indictment of Uriah Bounty's 
corruption of countless innocent women. 

Unfortunately, since it's a fictional account, it doesn't 
carry any legal weight, but I intend to remedy that. I 
intend to gather the evidence necessary to bring Uriah to 
trial for bigamy, then be there when they hang him by his 
balls from the nearest tree!"

"You know," Lydia said, "I'm no lawyer, but I don't think 
that's a legal punishment."

"We'll see," Bella said, tossing the book back in her 
bag. 

"Perhaps I'll just castrate him myself."

* * *

At first, Bella wasn't sure quite how she should dress 
for her trip west; if nothing else, she expected a lot of 
dust and dirt, but she couldn't quite pull herself away 
from the look of a cultivated bitch she had worked so 
hard to achieve. Thus, Bella settled for a loose black 
blouse, tight blue jeans, and a (relatively old) pair of 
black leather pumps, polished up to a shiny finish.  

She knew the look--complimented with dark sunglasses--was 
effective when she saw a male gate attendant at the 
airport shift his pants with an obvious erection. She 
knew she looked good, and that was gratifying; although 
she was certain that Uriah Bounty must be personally 
repulsive, he was still a man, and ought to be influenced 
by her appearance.

Unfortunately, there was little real information 
available about the current state of Bountyville, but 
Bella had managed to reach the proprietor of the "Happy 
Lamb Hotel" by phone a few weeks earlier, and learned 
that there was at least one room available. The 
proprietor--a woman named Sarah--did seem surprised that 
anyone would want to come and visit Bountyville, but then 
appeared suddenly understanding when Bella dropped a 
reference to Hera Decopolis's novel. 

"Oh, yes, I've read that," Sarah said; "but really, it's 
not quite as perfect here as the book makes it seem."

"Still," Bella said, "I'm curious about your little 
community. 

Do you suppose I could actually see Mr. Bounty himself?"

Sarah just chuckled at that.

"Oh, I'm sure he'd be glad to see you," Sarah said, "if 
he can get away from all us girls."

Bella wasn't sure quite what to make of that, but she was 
soon winging her way west on a DC-10, taking the 
opportunity to work on her laptop revising a paper 
addressing the sword wound as a vaginal symbol in 
Shakespeare. A few hours later, she landed at the airport 
closest to Bountyville, then headed into the desert in a 
rental car. There was no doubt the country was starkly 
beautiful--jagged mountains were soon visible jutting up 
beyond the desert plains--but Bella's thoughts were dark 
and brooding. Switching off the radio (and the blathering 
commentary of some right-wing fanatic, on the only 
channel that came in clearly), she drove in silence, 
remembering her numerous unhappy connections with the 
opposite sex.

Bella's first lover--if that was the word--had been Bobby 
Bredwell, her high school's star quarterback, and already 
the father of several children by the time he turned his 
attention to her. In their senior year, Bobby laid on the 
charm with the sole objective of spearing Bella's virgin 
pussy, but Bella was loathe to be penetrated, even then. 
It was not until the night before the homecoming game 
that Bobby finally got through to her. Plying her with 
beer, Bobby pleaded with Bella to "go all the way" for 
the good of the team--if Bobby was out on the field the 
next day, thinking about how he hadn't been able to fuck 
her, he might actually blow the game. 

Of course, that was silly, but Bella figured that was as 
good a time to get laid as any, and she duly lifted her 
skirt and spread her legs for Bobby in the back seat of 
his father's car. In the event, however, Bella was 
startled when she saw how small Bobby's cock actually 
was--no more than five inches long, fully erect! Somehow, 
drunk as she was, Bella managed to keep her giggling in 
check while Bobby pushed his cock inside her and popped 
her cherry, but it really was funny to realize that the 
big strong quarterback had such a tiny penis. Despite 
herself--even as Bobby started humping her--Bella started 
chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Bobby asked, pausing in his ardent 
sucking of Bella's 38D-cup breasts.

"I'm sorry," Bella tittered, "it's just your penis--it's 
so tiny!"

Bobby was taken aback--especially since he seemed to 
think he was doing pretty well, smacking his cock into 
the sticky-tight cunt of the virgin scholar.

"I'm not small," Bobby protested feebly--even as he 
continued pumping her; "can't you feel it?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Haven't you done this before...?"

"Well, yeah--lots of times."

"Well, maybe it's an off day. Don't worry about it."

But Bobby was rattled--half in love with Bella's 
clutching cunt, and half embarrassed by his awkward 
shortcoming--and he finished in awkward silence. Whereas 
he'd been slamming her hard a moment before, he went 
slower now--perhaps afraid to embarrass himself even 
more--and he almost seemed ashamed when he came. 
Trembling and shuddering, he pushed in deep to squirt his 
sperm into Bella's belly, then abruptly pulled out and 
rolled over.

"So you couldn't feel it?" Bobby asked. "Not at all?"

"I'm sure it'll get bigger," Bella said, trying to smooth 
over the awkward moment. "They say you've got lots of 
girls pregnant, so you must have something."

But Bobby just curled up defensively, and Bella sensed it 
was best to go. Later, when she sobered up, Bella feared 
she might be pregnant, but that was soon the least of her 
worries. The next day, Bobby lost the homecoming game, 
and virtually the entire high school somehow learned that 
Bella was responsible for Bobby's lack of confidence. 
Bella became an instant outcast--shunned by boys and 
girls alike--which far outweighed the relief she felt 
when her next period came, and she knew she wasn't 
pregnant.

For Bella, the whole male sex seemed like a bizarre joke. 
Men were always joking about their conquests, but Bella 
had never met a man with equipment that was even remotely 
impressive. Of course, several of her dates in college 
had suddenly found it hard to get it up when she started 
talking about her research on castration and impotence, 
but surely a real man would not be intimidated by 
something so trivial...

"Men," she muttered, finally spotting the turn-off to 
Bountyville; "who needs them."

* * *

Although 'My Pussy, My Friend' focused on a fictionalized 
version of Uriah Bounty, the book did indicate that there 
were other adult males with wives of their own in the 
area. And sure enough, as Bella caught sight of the farms 
on the outskirts of Bountyville--where the desert 
suddenly turned to green, and corn was starting to sprout 
from the soil--it was the men of the town whom Bella saw 
first, working in the fields. Women--and disturbingly 
large broods of children--were more evident closer to the 
middle of town.

Although Bountyville was hardly large--a rather old sign 
gave a population of 250--it was clear that the women 
were more than a little fertile. They were not a flashy 
lot--the women seemed to favor simple cotton dresses and 
aprons--but Bella felt her stomach turning when she saw 
more than one young lady leading a string of children 
through the street, many with an obvious family 
resemblance.

In fact, it gratified Bella to see how weather-beaten the 
town looked--somehow confirming her belief that the women 
must be living in a virtual hell on earth--although it 
wasn't nearly as decrepit as she would have liked. If she 
were more disposed to be generous, she might have 
admitted to herself that the town was actually well-
maintained for its location on a high and sun-baked 
plain. Along with simple houses, she spotted several 
stores, a battered old garage, and both a church and a 
school that were surprisingly large (doubtless because of 
all the babies people were having). What she didn't spot 
immediately was the great Victorian mansion where Uriah 
Bounty must live, which the novel described as being near 
the center of town at the edge of a large plot of 
farmland. However, she was more interested in finding her 
hotel at the moment.

Happily, the hotel was a real place--not just a figment 
of Sarah's imagination--but Bella felt her heart sink as 
soon as she pulled into the parking lot of the 
dilapidated structure. There were few motor vehicles in 
Bountyville--mostly just pickup trucks for the farms--but 
none were parked at the hotel, and Bella realized it must 
be closed when she noticed that the whole front door was 
missing. Indeed, when she went out to take a closer look, 
she saw that the building must have been vacant for 
years, with the only occupants proving to be the hens and 
roosters of a slapped-together chicken coop.

"Goddamn it," Bella swore, kicking at the ground with one 
of her pumps. After a long moment spent scowling at the 
chickens, she then went looking for help.

Happily, help was soon at hand in the form of a young man 
about fifteen, who tipped his baseball cap upon seeing 
her.

"Hello, ma'am. If you don't mind me saying, you're awful 
purty."

"Er...yeah. Look, I'm looking for a 'Happy Lamb Hotel'; 
you happen to know where that is?"

"Well, that's that building right there."

"Thank you," Bella said, with irritation. "I spoke to a 
woman named Sarah--she said she was the proprietor."

"Oh, you must mean my Mom," the boy said. "Sure, she used 
to run a hotel, but we don't have near as many visitors 
nowadays. Nowadays, she just keeps a room ready in Pa's 
house, in case of kin dropping by."

"And your pa would be...?"

"Well, Uriah Bounty, of course. Of course, he's most near 
everybody's father, come to think of it. I only just got 
Ellie May--that's my girlfriend--in a family way this 
very year."

Oh God, Bella groaned inwardly.

"Anyway," the boy carried on, "I'm sure Pa wouldn't mind 
having another purty girl like you around."

"Okay. So where is your pa's house?"

"Oh, its right up the street, around the corner--a big 
old mansion. You can't miss it, really; the front yard's 
probably all full of kids."

* * * 

Sure enough, the young man's directions were uncanny. 
Back in her car, Bella soon came across a looming two-
story Victorian mansion, with no less than a dozen 
children cavorting on the front lawn. They seemed to be 
all ages, from teen to toddler, but the one thing they 
had in common was an obvious family resemblance.

Awkwardly for Bella, her sudden arrival before the house 
was just as startling for the children as it was for 
herself. Even as Bella stepped from the car, the children 
stopped in their tracks and turned as one to stare at 
her, reacting as if they had just seen a creature from 
another world.

"Now what's got into you?" a woman's voice said, from 
behind the children. A moment later, the woman herself 
waddled through the children, scuffing through the dirt 
in a pair of dusty platform sandals--and Bella was 
utterly amazed; hugely pregnant--perhaps with twins--the 
graying woman was Hera Decopolis!

"Oh, I see," the gravid woman said; "we got us a 
stranger."

"Pardon me," Bella said; "are you Hera Decopolis?"

"Well, I reckon I was once," the woman said. "Of course, 
I'm married now. Now I'm Hera Bounty."

"Jesus," Bella said, "you'd have to be--what--45?"

"I'm 48," Hera said, laying her hands on her stomach, 
"and God be praised, not too old to give Uriah another 
couple babies."

"Well," Bella said, "this is quite a surprise. I almost 
thought you'd be..."

"Dead?" Hera guessed.

"No...it's just hard to imagine you're actually a real 
person, after all I've read about you."

"Well, I'm real enough," Hera said, with a smile. "Would 
you happen to be the person who called Sister Sarah about 
getting a room?"

"That's right," Bella said, finally venturing to offer a 
hand. "My name is Bella Ramble; I'm a professor at 
Featherview University."

"Oh, Featherview?" Hera said, shaking her hand. "Is Lydia 
still there?"

"Professor Wilder, yes."

"Well, we'll have to talk. In the meantime, why don't I 
take you in to see Sarah?"

* * * 

In her mind, Bella Ramble was prepared to confront a 
miserable community, suspended in time as it perpetuated 
the nonsensical notion of polygamy. However, the inside 
of Uriah Bounty's home was neat and tidy, and Sarah--an 
attractive blonde in her thirties--was quite congenial. 
Not obviously pregnant at the moment, Sarah guided Bella 
upstairs to the spare bedroom, and Bella was surprised to 
see that it, too, was neat and tidy--if excessively 
feminine. Somehow, a bed dressed in pink satin with 
frilly lace pillows was not quite Bella's style, but it 
was a deal at $10 a day.

"You are awful purty," Sarah said. "You got a boyfriend?"

"Er...yes."

"How about a girlfriend?"

"Excuse me?"

Sarah simply smiled, and opened a drawer to pull out a 
12-inch dildo.

"Holy shit!" Bella said.

"Well, a girl can get lonely," Sarah said, "without her 
boyfriend."

Sarah then proceeded to rub the dildo between her legs--
pushing her skirt down between her legs to do so--and 
Bella suddenly felt dizzy, indeed doubly so on her spike 
heels.

"I'll bet you've got a purty pussy, Miss Bella."

"Aren't you married to Uriah Bounty?"

"Well, sure," Sarah said, sliding over next to Bella, 
then rubbing the dildo against her groin, "but Uriah's 
kind of busy; he can't be with every girl, every night."

"Well, that's nice," Bella said, pushing Sarah back as 
politely as she could. "Maybe later."

"Well, okay," Sarah said, with a wink. "I'll look forward 
to it."

* * *

As it happened, there was a lot that was strange about 
Uriah Bounty's house. For one thing, the closet in 
Bella's room was filled with sexy lingerie, skimpy 
dresses and fuck-me sandals-- hardly casual wear for a 
hardscrabble farming community. And yet the women of the 
house were not outrageously intimate in public, limiting 
their contact to the odd sisterly hug. 

From Hera, Bella learned that Uriah now had 14 wives and 
over 70 children, but only a handful actually lived in 
the mansion. Uriah himself was not there--ever the 
dutiful husband, he was currently visiting other wives in 
other houses--but the four wives lucky enough to live at 
the mansion were all very eager to see him return. Along 
with Hera and Sarah, the other wives at the house were 
Ruth (a buxom woman in her twenties) and a young but 
shapely girl named Betty (age 15). 

In fact, Betty had yet to sleep with her husband--and 
thus was very nervous in anticipation of him coming back-
-but the other women already seemed to have more than 
their share of children. Of the twelve children living at 
the house, two were Ruth's, three were Sarah's, and an 
incredible seven were Hera's.

Not surprisingly--given the fact that Uriah was often 
away--it was the children who did a lot of the manual 
labor on the farm, supervised by one or another of the 
wives. Although the work was hard--fixing fences, 
slopping hogs, weeding fields--the sheer number of hands 
available made it less onerous than it might have been, 
and there was plenty of time for the children to goof off 
and play, as they had been doing when Bella arrived. At 
any rate, the children seemed healthy enough, and Bella 
was secretly disappointed that she might have lost a 
potential legal angle-- sicking the state's child welfare 
agency on Uriah. 

"So," Bella asked Sarah delicately, while the latter was 
starting dinner for the house, "does Mr. Bounty actually 
do any work in the fields?"

"Sometimes," Sarah said, "mostly around planting and 
harvest time. It's the summer time, though, so this is 
the best time for Uriah to do his lovin'."

"Well, of course."

A short time later, Sarah had a tasty stew on the table 
for her sisters, their children, and the one curious 
visitor from the east. The children were a little rowdy 
at first, but a stern look from Hera put an end to that, 
and raised a logical question for Bella.

"You know," Bella said, "in your novel, I recall one wife 
being senior over all the others. Is that your role, 
Hera?"

"Not technically," Hera replied; "I'm just the oldest 
that can still make babies."

"And she can sure make babies!" Ruth said, leaning in 
close to Hera and giving her closest boob a squeeze. To 
Bella's surprise, the children didn't seem surprised by 
that. 

"I just wish I had boobs like that," Betty pouted. "Maybe 
Uriah would pay more attention to me then."

"God almighty, girl," Sarah said, "I'd say your titties 
are right purty enough already."

"She just likes to complain," Hera explained for Bella's 
benefit. "She could have had her own husband--there's 
plenty of young men about--but no, she had to have 
Uriah."

"Now you're making fun of me!" Betty complained.

"Not to be rude," Bella interjected, "but how long will 
it be until Uriah returns? Can I see him before that?"

"Probably a couple of weeks," Sarah speculated. "It 
wouldn't be right to go interrupt him, though, while he's 
lovin' up the other sisters."

"Er...yeah," Bella muttered.

Continued in part 2...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 17