Page 3 of Stags

“Those people don’t have to sign up for the rut to get laid,” said Rora.

“Those people can get pregnant before they are thirty-one,” said Tawny.

“Those people can attract a man that they, too, are attracted to,” said Eiren. She shrugged. “Fuck those people.”

“Seriously, though,” said Tawny.

An announcement came up over the auditorium PA system. “Break time, over, ladies!” chirped the voice, cheerful and bright. “Back to your seats for the rest of the presentation.”

Eiren shrugged at the others. “Guess we’ve got to go back in.”

The PA continued, “Remember, no food or drink is allowed in the auditorium. Please dispose of all trash in the available receptacles!”

Tawny gulped down the rest of her coffee even as Rora shoved the rest of her donut in her mouth and chewed.

The three tossed out their paper cups and napkins and made their way back to their seats in the auditorium.

They didn’t have to wait very long before the lights came up on the stage and the woman who’d been speaking to them before was back. She was a doe, wearing a pantsuit in a color that was probably called burnt umber or bronze or something wherever it was listed, but just lookedorange. She had long dark curls that flowed around her features, and her ears were pricked upwards while she talked, as if she were perpetually excited.

She talks to us like a preschool teacher talks to children,Tawny thought, less than charitably.

“Hi everyone, I’m Arica again!” said the orange-clad doe from the stage. “First hour, we talked a lot about the whys of participating in the rites here, why it is a deep and sacred practice, why it calls to the undercurrents that move through each and every one of us. This hour, we’re going to spend our time talking more about specifics and the nitty-gritty of how this is going to work, because I know you’re all curious.”

Right. The reason that they were here, at this presentation, was because they were all first-timers. If you’d participated before, you didn’t have to attend the orientation.

“So, first of all, it’s very important, if you are participating in the rite with the intent of breeding, to be sure that you are, in fact, fertile,” said Arica from the stage. “Almost all does are fertile within a window of the next six weeks. Many of us are already showing signs of estrus. If you are not showing signs, you may wish to wait and come back. However, we do recommend, for women who are serious about getting pregnant, to come and participate every weekend throughout the season, until you get a confirmation of a positive pregnancy test. Even then, if you would like to return, you may, of course!” She tittered. “Many of us find this sacred time of the year veryfulfilling.”

Oh, eww. Tawny made a face and looked down, feeling a kind of second-hand embarrassment that she could never shake, though she didn’t like it. Why did people have to say things like that? Some things did not need to be spoken aloud.

She noticed, however, that Eiren was smiling, seemingly having enjoyed that.

Figures,thought Tawny. She didn’t know Eiren well, but she knew her type. Tawny might not understand that sort of woman, but that sort of woman did exist.

“Now, this is very important,” said Arica. “When you arrive in your room for the weekend, you will find a welcome packet.” She held up a finger, signaling everyone should give her a minute. She turned and walked back, the microphone on her lapel picking up the sound of her heels on the floor, as she picked up a canvas bag from a table that was set up on the stage. She held it up. “These are gifts to you, commemorative totes provided generously by the Women’s Auxiliary to the Stags’ Club in Alberdeen.”

A spattering of polite applause.

“Yes, thanks so much to them,” said Arica. She tugged out of the bag a little jewelry card with two earrings on it. The earrings were the dangly kind, shaped like leaves, but they didn’t match. One was white and the other was red. “So, you are going to select one of these to wear for the rites. White means, well, breeding welcome.” She giggled. “Red means stop.” She touched the red one. “All of the bucks are well-versed in how important it is to respect our wishes. As I have said last hour, there are overtones to this event that may appear to be at odds with the idea of consent, but we are very, very anti-non-consensual activity here, and that sort of behavior will not be tolerated. So if a buck sees this red leaf, it means he will pullout, ladies, you understand?”

A ripple of laughter went through the auditorium.

“And,” said Arica, “I can hear you out there, saying yourselves, but that’s not a guarantee of anything, and you are right. So, you will also find this in your bag.” She reached in and pulled out a little tube. “This, ladies, is a spermicidal lubricant, which you can apply beforehand.” She pulled out something else, something that had a sort of syringe-like applicator. “This is an insertable spermicide, if you would like a backup, because we all know we can’t be too careful,” she said. “Some of us may wish to use diaphragms or female condoms, and all these are absolutely fine and encouraged.” She smiled.

Tawny touched her ear, wondering what someone was supposed to do if she didn’t have pierced ears.

“I want to remind you all that we do not allow anyone into the rite who doesn’t have a clean bill of health with STD testing,” said Arica. “And also, if you do not have pierced ears, please see the front desk when you are leaving the auditorium and there will be some ladies there who have an alternative that will go around your ear.” She smiled again.

Well, then, that answered that question.

“Now,” said Arica, “I want to talk a little bit about breeding lairs, because if you are designated as a breeder, and you do have what you might call a successful interaction with a buck, that is, if the two of you both enjoy yourselves and like the look of each other? If so, you may be asked to a breeding lair by a buck. These are temporary shelters, small rooms, constructed by bucks for the care and comfort of does, with the assumption that if a doe goes into one with a buck, the buck does not have to fight off any competitors, because she has acquiesced to be his for the duration of the rut.” Arica’s eyes brightened, and she pointed. “Yes, I see someone’s hand out there. Is that a question?”

“The rest of the rut means the whole weekend?” called out a doe in the audience.

“Yes,” said Arica. “Not the entire season. You could come back next weekend and be under no obligation. All bucks do not participate every weekend, anyway. It can be quite a strenuous experience for males.”

Despite this, Tawny knew there was never a lack of participants on the male side for these ruts. Back in the 1970s, these events had become so unpopular for females, however, that they had offered to pay women to participate. At the time, the perception was that this amounted to nothing more than institutionalized sexism, and no self-respecting doe should subject herself to it.

Tawny couldn’t deny she’d thought this herself. Sure, some deerkin did the ruts, but it was the twenty-first century. Certainly she wasn’t going to participate in something so backward and savage. And yet, here she was.

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