Canaan Chronicles

After the court observances, you return to your mansion. The situation in New Carthage hung suspended in the diagnostic glow of medical holograms. Although the one you serve remains the wealthiest and most powerful military among all the nearby oases, the health condition of its ruler - your great aunt Namisa - has made it impossible for her to make reasonable decisions, resulting in the power of the oasis actually falling into the hands of her male concubine Corey. Referring to the history of countless ruined oases, this - the rule of male - is undoubtedly a precursor to destruction. However, before this omen fulfills, you still have your own life. As you step into the hall, a picture of carnal desire unfolds - your harem is waiting for its mistress in restless heat. "Finally back, my love." Coming towards you is your husband Aein, a perfect template for a nowadays swain. His slender and graceful figure is not half as tall as yours, wrapped in a semi transparent red dress embroidered with gold thread and moonstone pendants. His amorous big eyes, look at you with awe and infatuation behind a elegant veil, shining with wisdom not common shared by boys. As the son of an antique dealer, he received a good education, this is not common among boys in Canaan, or even among the entire population of the planet. "How was the observance? How is Her Majesty?" Aein respectfully kisses your hip bone, as a submissive husband should do, completely in accordance with etiquette. "Trouble our mistress no more gabbing about those court stuffs, dear. Our mistress needs relax." Opal, your alluring concubine approaches with his soft hips swaying, with a hint of jealousy smouldering in his eyes. He pesters you like a kitten, you can feel his micro penis rubbing against your muscular leg. Your clit instinctively erects - as a Y female, Your enormous clit, as well as your robust frame, is the symbol of power in this femdom society. "See?" Opal glances at your crotch, licking his lips wantonly, "Only one good boy here knows what our mistress needs..." Your gaze crosses over these two competing boys, lands in the pile of pillows not far away. Your family doctor Mei is there, with your son Dora. The latter is nestled in the arms of the chubby doctor boy, while Mei's hand is grabbing his 1-inch cock, working it skillfully. "Young master's azoospermia has recurred, my mistress..." Sweat beads flicker on Mei's face, and his eyes anxiously lock onto Dora's flaccid little penis. The inability to ejaculate means a loss of life value for Dora - semen is not only the source of life in this world, but also an important source of nutrition for humans, just like milk. Despite Dora's beautiful appearance, no woman has ever been willing to marry him due to his illness, which is...one of your biggest concerns. "Mom..." Dora pleads, almost mewling, "I don't want to...make it stop!" "Trust doctor Mei, my dear." Aein bends down holding his hand, "He knows...we knows what is good for you."

It is an ordinary day in Canaan, also an ordinary violent day for you as a treasure hunter. Your armored vehicle runs over the flat, parched sand, heading south. Your destination is the ruins of "Dachin Garden", an oasis-state established by pacifists, respected for boys and women equally. It has now been swallowed up by sand, but inevitably hides resources and more precious technological products. Suddenly, your onboard radar projects a hologram shows several smaller vehicles approaching from behind. You look in the rearview mirrors. Following behind you, roaring aggressively, there it's a wolf pack like motorcycle convoy, decorated with barbed iron chains, skull graffiti, and black flags with a fist pattern, but those riders however, are no more than some cute boys. But you are well aware of the danger beneath those cute appearances. These escaped slave boys established nomadic tribes in the desert, they were no longer obedient husbands, but greedy raiders, and killers. "Blow that fucking can!" A Gothic dressed boy stands up from an Assyrian style chariot pulled by two motorcycles at the forefront of the convoy, wielding a curved sword at you. "Pull out those bitches who enslave us from their shells, I will cut off their boobs, and grill them to eat!" "WAAAAAAR!!!!" Several petite raiders wearing headscarves come to your sides, snarling, throw harpoons bound with explosives at your vehicle. Explosions forced you to grip the steering wheel tightly, but are not enough to breakdown the armor of your car. You are a Y female, stonger, smarter. What are you going to do now with these bloodthristy bunnies?

You sleep on delicate blankets and cushions until you wake up naturally, summoning servants to help you change. The scorching sunlight of Antares shines through the double filtering of the oasis dome and the mansion window, falls on your graceful curves with the most suitable intensity. Although you are the main husband of General Turana, your legitimacy still depends on your charm in such a world, the clothing you choose for yourself tends to be more showy as a result. Those thin silk and golden tassels only outline your silhouette without covering anything, the golden nose ring and nipple piercing symbolize your obedience. "Please allow me to adorn your boyhood, master." Finally, a servant comes forward holding a bronze plate, bows deeply, and put on a golden chastity cage and anal plug for you. These are different from the torture instruments worn by the slaves, they are decorations bringing no straining or pain, but also subtly illustrate the fragile status of men on this planet. ... You leave the bedroom, searching for your wife. At this time, she should be in the hall, having lunch under the service of several boys. You feel incredibly safe seeing that familiar figure. She is another example of human abnormal evolution in this world - broad shoulders, tanned skin, and armor like strong muscles. Since male degeneration, there have been more and more powerful Y women like Turana emerged. However, as you approach, your heart pauses for a beat. On Turana's thigh - where you should have been - there is a boy you had never seen, dressed in a semi transparent sea blue robe, with black hair and opal eyes, looking younger than you. He is joking with Turana while your wife's big hands are wandering on him, showing possessiveness. Losing affection means not only not being loved, but in a world where the value of life is not as important, it even concerns your survival. Your forehead is starting to sweat.