Meat

Part 5

“Now you have to remember . . . Oh Jesus! Don't do that!” Blue pulled his hand away from her crotch and gave it a remonstrative slap. “It's hard enough to concentrate with my tit in your mouth. Behave!”

She allowed herself a little moan of pleasure to encourage more of what he was doing with his lips, tongue and teeth, before continuing.

“You have to remember that I don't read all that well. They only teach the girls here enough so we can do our assigned jobs. I guess it's probably the same with the boys.”

“Uh-humm,” he answered without breaking suction. A trickle of milk emerged from the corner of his mouth and ran down his chin.

“And there's no real library here like the free people have outside. So all I've been able to find out is what I can dredge up on the web. But so far as I can tell, no one has ever been able to figure out who the Gatherers are, or where they come from. Or where we go when they harvest us, for that matter. Of course, the Gaths never answer any questions about it, just like they said they wouldn't in that first message. And they won't play by our rules. I've read stories in the newspapers from back then about how this government and that agency tried to make secret deals to get them to stop the random harvests. But the Gaths always responded with world-wide pop-ups, same as the first time, showing the original message as well as their answer. I guess it caused a lot of embarrassment and plenty of heads rolled before people figured out that the Gaths meant it. No secret deals.

“Of course, what the Gaths wanted was impossible. People wouldn't stand for it! Religions wouldn't stand for it! For one thing, the idea of owning people had long been officially considered uncivilized and repugnant . . . not that there wasn't lots of unofficial slavery going on — mostly young girls sold into prostitution, that sort of thing. But no one was going to turn over human beings to be slaughtered for meat! Still, it was that or let the Gaths pick the victims. The first countries to cave were the ones with strong dictators, and at first the sacrificial victims were prisoners, crazy people and like that. But eventually someone figured out how to make tons of money by setting up human livestock farms, like this one. Poof! Problem solved. Big profits, lots of meat for the Gaths and no more random harvests. Everybody's happy and relieved. Except maybe the meat.”

Rush's hand was back between her legs, his fingers making incursions into that moist tunnel where desires are transformed into ecstacy. Blue caught her breath, her last sarcasm melting into a gyrating moan. The deliciously erotic sensations that radiated from her suckled breasts had traveled down her spine to the lower belly, then bloomed into an electric tension that exploded into every nerve. She gasped and rose up over him to insert the slickened knob of his resurrected manhood into the wet cave of her need. She rode him with a desperate fury, fingers clawing at his waist, mouth open in a silent scream, oblivious to the spectacle she was creating in the crowded room. She wept as she came, her tears falling on his chest, a poignant melding of joy and sorrow, a passion both comforting and edged with dread.

When she was calm again, she wiped the tears up with a corner of her discarded robe. He had become soft, but she wouldn't let him go, holding him in as tightly as she could with muscles stretched by seven births. But he drew her down on him so he could kiss her deeply and lick away her tears.

“This is too hard,” she whimpered. “Why don't they just come for us? It won't be so bad, if they'd just get here and do us. Get it over with.”

“It won't? How do you know?”

“Because I know. I've read about it.”

“But how does anyone know? I thought no one ever returned from inside the wall.”

“Some did. It wasn't hard to do. A woman soldier did it first: went through the wall and had herself pulled out. But she ran back in before telling anyone anything. After that all kinds of people tried it: going inside, then being pulled out and interrogated. But no one ever said anything useful, just that they had to go back. I guess their brains had been pretty well fried. Even long after the wall was gone, they would only say they needed to go back. And they wouldn't leave their clothes on. Some of them spent years sitting naked in a cell, until the authorities finally fed them to the Gaths.”

“Great. So we have our choice of being turned into meat or vegetables.”

Blue smiled. Even in the face of death this man could make her laugh. Maybe he was right. If they had been born free, maybe they could have grown happily old together. She picked up his right hand — the one that had so recently incited her to sexual rioting — and kissed each of the fingers, one by one.

“So . . . my darling . . . Rush . . . how'd you get . . . your name?” she asked between kisses.

“Oh, I was five or six. Apparently I was a hellion. Always running around. The nurses, or one of them, kept grabbing me and asking ‘what's the big rush?' I guess it got to be a joke.”

“What were you called before then?”

“Don't remember. Maybe they just called me by my inventory number.”

“Let me see,” she said, and turned his hand palm up. She read the numbers printed on his wrist. “46S349GB. Wow. What a sexy name!”

“Oh yeah? Well let's see yours!”

She held her right wrist as far away from him as she could and made him wrestle her for it. By the time he'd captured her hand, he was lying on top of her, as she had planned. Thanks to his earlier efforts to relieve the pressure building up in her abandoned mammaries, she was no longer sore and could enjoy the weight of his body on hers and the new stirring in her loins.

It took a surprising amount of strength for him to hold her wrist where he could see it and read if off. “24B139KX,”

She bit at his chin.

“Talk about your sexy names!” he scoffed.

She nipped at his lips. He nipped back, and soon they were deep into each other's mouths. She rubbed at his manhood, pleased at how quickly it revived.

“Jesus!” he said during a break for air. “You're insatiable?”

“What else does a breeder have to do around here but fuck and make babies?” she said, licking at his face.

“What a life!” he responded, chewing on her ear. “Lounging around on soft cushions all day, fucking the boys and nursing the babies.”

“Not to mention the joy of having a watermelon work its way through your cunt every nine months, knowing you'll be ripped open with a knife and fed to the Gaths if it can't make it. Meanwhile, you poor guys get all the shit work, like riding around on garden tractors all day and filling the girls with your glorious jizz all night.”

“It is tough.”

“Did you ever think of just riding one of those tractors through the Invisible Wall and getting the hell out of here?”

“Sure I did. But then I decided I'd rather live out my allotted eighteen years than be an early appetizer.”

“Does anyone ever try it?”

“Of course. There's always some idiot who thinks he can outsmart the Gaths. I've seen them try several different ways. Riding out on the lawn mowers, hiding in garbage trucks, all that stuff. They all wound up walking right back to Foxbush and climbing into an individual meat receptacle, never to be seen again.”

“Well,” she whispered, starting to kiss her way down his body, “I'm glad you stayed the course.”

A female voice: “Don't you guys ever get tired of fucking?”

Without breaking off her string of kisses, Blue looked up into a pair of dark eyes filled with mock disapproval. Pouty lips barely repressed a laugh and a well practiced toss of the head sent bouncing waves of hair the color of dark chocolate cascading around her shoulders. She was a strikingly beautiful young woman. Blue reached out and swatted her on her mound of Venus and answered the question by wriggling sensuously against Rush as she ran her tongue around his navel.

The woman reached between them and wrapped her fingers around Rush's growing interest. “It's not working all that great,” she jeered. “I think he needs a new partner to rev things up properly.”

Blue suddenly flipped over and grabbed the dark-eyed girl's crotch with both hands. The girl squealed and jumped back, laughing.

“Jesus Christ, Ariana!” Blue shouted. “There must be a couple other boys here who can get you off before harvest. Rush is mine!”

“All the other boys are fucked out. They're mush. Not a wooden bat in the bunch. But Rush here looks like he's still got something in reserve. Come on now, Blue. Don't be a hog.”

“Oh sit down and shut up,” Blue said, tugging at the girl's robe, pulling her over to the bunk. “And keep your hands off him. Whatever he can get up again is going right here!” She patted her sex, still damp with leakage from the last injection.

“I saw him draining your tits,” Ariana said. “At least let him do that for me, too. They hurt.”

“For God's sake, Ariana, there are scads of girls in this room who'll do that for you.”

“It's not the same.”

“I see Brock over there with Loki. What's wrong with him?”

“He bites. Come on, Blue,” she whined, “you know how sensitive they are when they're overdue like this.”

Blue looked balefully at Ariana, then Rush. She gave the girl's left breast a quick squeeze and saw her grimace as a small stream of milk jetted out.

Rush was smiling and caressing Blue's back. “Don't be mean,” he suggested. “She's your best friend. You've done threesomes before. Why don't you do me while I do her, and if I have another shot left in me, I promise I'll deliver it to you.”

Blue sighed. She had wanted Rush all to herself in these last hours, but breeding studs had no sense of sexual exclusivity. From their earliest glimmer of interest in girls, boys were taught that most females at Foxbush over the age of fifteen were theirs for the conquest, and the more the merrier. The only fidelity that counted was a willingness to have sex with the females selected for them by the Genetics Division of the Products Department. For carrying out that duty they got extra perks. Not that there were any dogs among the moms. All the boys considered those women particularly hot. The only girls off limits were those whose impregnation was being engineered by the Genetics people. Females, on the other hand, were allowed no sex before fourteen and a half. That first pregnancy, and most of those that followed, was controlled by the Genetic engineers who selected her studs to assure quality offspring. The candidates were chosen from among the male livestock, approved members of the staff and approved outside volunteers who paid a steep stud fee for the privilege. But once pregnant, a girl could fuck whoever she wished, right up to the last six weeks. From that point, all sexual activity had to be under the supervision of medical personnel to protect the fetus from damage. The presence of a referee during sex tended to dampen the sexual enthusiasm of some girls. Not Blue. She didn't care who watched. In fact, being on sexual display excited her.

“Okay,” Blue relented. “So how do we set it up?”

“I'll lie on my back,” Rush said. You climb up over my legs and take care of my male parts. Ariana will crawl over me from the other end and dangle her poor sore tits over my mouth so I can drain off some of the pressure.”

Blue punched his shoulder as hard as she could. He chuckled and kissed her. Then whispered in her ear.

“If you and Ariana can make me really hard again, I'll fuck you so thoroughly you won't even notice when they turn you into meat.”

“How do you know I won't bite it off when I see you sucking on Ariana's tits?”

“I don't. But if you do that, you'll have to find some other stud with enough charge left in his battery to fuck you to oblivion. See any good prospects left in this room?”

“Maybe I'll bite off your balls and leave your prick.”

“Just don't swallow them, sweetie. They'll make you take a double dose of steel wool.”

She nipped at his nose, and he fell back laughing as each of them proceeded to carry out his or her part of the triumvirate. It took a while, but eventually Ariana's breasts were comfortably emptied and Rush, resuscitated, had made a final deposit into Blue's well stocked sperm bank, followed by some intensive cunnilingus that enabled Ariana to enjoy a few final orgasms as well. Afterwards, the three friends lay collapsed in happy satisfaction, cuddled together on Blue's bunk.

Rush, who was kneading one breast each of Blue and Ariana, said, “So both of you have been doing nurse duty right up to today?”

“Naturally,” snorted Ariana. “All moms do. We suckle the babies and chase around after the crawlers and toddlers and hell-raisers.”

“Of which you boys are the worst, I might add,” said Blue.

“Yeah,” agreed Ariana. “Little girls are easy. Mostly they play with dolls and help us while we nurse the infants. Thank God they put the boys to work early to get them out of our hair.”

“So that's why they had me cleaning toilets at the age of five,” Rush said with exaggerated indignity, “so you pampered mommies could play dolls with the little girls.”

“Exactly,” said Blue.

“Do you realize my entire youth was spent cleaning sinks, washing floors, digging up gardens and sitting in detention cages. All so you and the girls could play mommy?”

“Serves you right. Did they really put you in one of those cages?”

“Damn right! Twice. By the third time I had graduated to the steel box. No windows. Just tiny breathing holes. They kept me in it for two days, sitting in my own piss and shit and stench with nothing to eat or drink. I thought I'd go crazy. Maybe I did. Told me they'd double my time for the next offense.”

“What'd you do to get put in the box?” Ariana asked.

“Kicked one of you moms. She'd pulled me off some other boy I was fighting with. By the hair!”

“But that ended your fighting days, right?” Blue was remembering her own disciplinary encounters with squabbling boys.

“No. It ended my kicking-at-moms days.

“So,” she said, tracing a finger along his lips, “as horrible as it was, the box served a worthy purpose.”

“I suppose you can look at it that way. Especially if you're a cute little blonde mommy.” He kissed the finger. “But a few years later they used a carrot approach that worked even better than the stick.”

“And I'll bet I know what the carrot was.”

“I'll bet you do.”

“Instead of kicking mommies, they let you plug your little tool into them. Right?”

“Extraordinarily perceptive of you! That's exactly what they did.”

He rolled on top of Blue and sucked more milk from her left breast. She sighed with pleasure.

“So how old were you when you first started putting it to us mommies?” she asked. Funny she'd never asked before, she thought. But then, until now there had always been a tomorrow to ask about such things.

“I was thirteen. That's a tough age for adolescent wanna-be studs. The cock-and-ball set is ready to go and our hormones are clamoring for action, but we're not allowed anywhere near the virgins, and the fifteen-year-old girls laugh at us because to them we're still little kids. They've already been laid by the older, more ‘manly' boys.”

Blue wished he'd stop talking so much because it interfered with the wonders he was performing on her breast. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but ask, “Who was the lucky first girl?”

“Candy.”

“Which one?”

“Does it matter? Shit, that was five years ago. She's long gone. I think she was harvested three years ago. Hey,” he said, “I've told you all about my life of crime. How about you? Did you ever spend time in a cage?”

“No, thank God.”

“Just what I thought. You were too sweet and obedient.”

“No, I was a girl. And a potential breeder. There are plenty of males out there ready to help us girls add to the Gath's meat supply, so they don't care if the little boys get sick and die from sitting in their own shit. They just clean ‘em up, chop ‘em into steaks, roasts and ribs and drop ‘em in the collection bin. But pretty little girls grow into tasty sixteen-year-old females worth twenty times as much. Or become great breeders, like yours truly, who are worth a hundred times as much.”

“So you think you're more tasty than me?”

“No, I'd rather lick up your juices than mine any day. But the Gaths prefer pretty females, and for management that's all that matters.”

“So you girls never got disciplined?”

“I didn't say that. I said they don't put us in the cages. Girls get caned.”

“Caned? Hit with those springy sticks?”

“Wet ratan. You bet. And hard! Every stroke is like getting branded.”

“How would you know that? Ever been branded?”

“No, but some girls have.”

“Who? Anyone I know?”

“Emma. Seems to me I saw you two going at it a few times.”

“Red head? Harvested about a year ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Why'd they brand her , and where was it?”

“They brand the girls who have some defect that makes them ineligible for breeding or even for whole roasting by the Gaths. As I recall, her ears stuck out too much. The brand is placed at the top of the left rump. I'll bet she never let you screw her doggie style. Right?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it.”

“Poor girl was hideously ashamed of it. It does awful things to a girl's self-esteem to be physically branded as second rate. Anyway, she and others have told me that every stroke of the cane hurts just as much.”

“So did you ever get caned?”

“Oh yeah. Twice.”

“Jesus! You were a regular crime wave! When was the first time?”

“I dunno. Twelve . . . thirteen.”

“What did you do?”

“Sassed a teacher. It was a sex class and I was supposed to demonstrate how to get a man erect with just my thumb and one other finger, using the teacher as a live model. But he stayed limp and when he scolded me in front of the whole class for doing it wrong, I told him it wasn't my fault, he just couldn't get it up. I guess maybe I shouldn't have put it quite that way. Anyway, next thing I knew he'd called in another teacher to hold me down over his desk top and was waling my bare ass with that fucking cane. Five hard strokes! O my God, did that hurt! I screamed and kicked like crazy and couldn't sit down for a week afterwards.”

“Served you right, you unruly trollop.”

“Well it wasn't my fault!” She put on an exaggerated pout. “I've made a lot of limp soldiers come to attention with just one finger.”

“I can believe it. I get hard just thinking about you. In fact, it's rising up as we speak, and you haven't even touched it. If your milk weren't so sweet and this nipple so succulent, I'd be inside you again right now.”

She moaned her approval of the idea and wiggled her hips as invitation.

Ariana, who until now had been feigning sleep, spoke up. “So when are you gonna tell us about the second time?”

“Yeah,” Rush said, between licks at the tip of her nipple. “Tell us about the second time.”

“First you gotta switch to the other tit,” Blue moaned.

He pulled his head up slowly, her teat captured firmly between his lips, stretching it like a pink elastic until it popped free. “Sure thing,” he said, and began to lick his way lazily down her firm, sexy belly, shaped into a gentle roundness by seven contiguous pregnancies.

“Where are you going?” she protested.

“To the other tit,” he slobbered between slow, wet laps. “The long way.”

She sighed with kittenish contentment as his tongue circled her navel and continued it's moist travel over her bare mons and into the cleft. She squeaked with delight as it bullied its way between the outer lips, then the inner lips, then burrowed under the hood and seized the engorged little morsel hiding there. She inhaled sharply and held her breath as his lips, teeth and tongue ganged up to torture the poor little thing into unbearable waves of pleasure. Her squeak grew into squealy grunts as her pelvis began to spasm helplessly, thrusting the sensitive little captive deeper into the mouth of its conqueror.

Ariana (perhaps eager to hear the rest of the story, perhaps spurred by envy — who can tell?) pinched Rush's nose until he was forced to flee that gushing canyon and free its all too willing prisoner. “Hey!” he complained nasally, the evidence of Blue's pleasure dripping from his chin.”

“Cut the ‘hey!' crap and head on north again, buster!” Ariana said. “The girl can't talk with you rooting around in her girlie parts. So go on, Blue, tell us about the second time you were caned.”

Blue's mew of frustration turned to giggles as Rush began licking his way up to her right breast. “The second time was much, much worse. It was because of an asshole stud from outside.”

“All studs from outside are assholes,” Rush ventured.

“No they're not. Some are very sweet. But this guy really was a first class jerk-off. I do like sex, as you know, and I almost never complain about my partners, but this guy was really mean. He's the only one who ever made me cry.”

“He hurt you?” Ariana asked, appalled.

“Yeah! Well, he didn't actually cause any damage; he knew better than that. I was not quite sixteen and had already dropped my first baby girl, so I was classified as a prime breeder. Damaging me would have cost him a fortune. What he did was yank me around by the hair, shove me on to the bed, and call me filthy names while he rammed at me over and over. No one had ever treated me like that!”

“What kinda names?” Ariana asked.

“You know . . . . whore, douche-bag, cunt, bitch, cum-bucket . . . things like that. I was shocked and hurt. I asked him why he was saying such awful things to me, and he said it was because he liked to. He said my feelings didn't matter because I was only a cow in the shape of a human. Meat with a cunt, he said. He said I was whore meat that wasn't worth what he'd paid to fuck it, but he came back the next day and asked for me again! I told the Genetics Department no , I wouldn't let me touch me. They said I had to, that he was a perfect genetic match and he'd already paid his stud fee. When he came in and grabbed my arm to take me to the mating room, I kicked him in the shin. He made a grab for my hair and I bit him on the arm. Then he got all pissed off and insisted they punish me or he'd sue. Said he'd file an assault complaint, that I was a dangerous animal and they'd have to put me down and send me off with the daily trash meat. So they gave me a choice. I could go to the stocks and take a forty-stroke caning or stand up willingly with my hands behind my neck and take twenty. That was a no-brainer, except that I had to ask politely for each and every fucking stroke within ten seconds of the last one or be sent to the stocks and do the whole forty. It was the most terrible ordeal I ever had to go through. I was sobbing so hard I could barely get the words out in time for the next one. I had nasty welts all over my legs and butt. I had to hold out my hands so they could cane the palms. They even made me stand on one foot while they caned the other. The pain was incredible and seemed to go on forever! The stud watched and smirked the whole time, of course. He'd wanted to cane me himself but thank God they didn't let him. They knew he'd go right for my tits. I was a nursing mom and he would have put my nips out of commission for sure! They did give me a couple of strokes to my clit, though, and I nearly fainted from the pain. Believe me, I never refused another stud. If some guy decided to act like an asshole, I just made like a log and looked bored. If that didn't cool him off, I'd request a guard to watch the next time, make sure he didn't damage me. That always worked.” She giggled.

Just as Rush's attentions to her right breast were beginning to quell the ache there and reignite the tingling in her sex, a bell rang. The loudspeaker burst to life.

“Please line up for your final meal. Those who do not do so voluntarily will be dealt with forcibly.”

Blue's stomach lurched. Her ‘final' meal. The last time she would eat. Life was coming to an end so quickly. She felt like she had fallen off a cliff, but she was determined not to show it. She gently pulled Rush away from her tit and put her mouth over his, kissing him deeply, tasting her milk on his tongue, seasoned by her own fresh vaginal juices. Reluctantly, sadly, she extracted herself from his arms. She would force down the disgusting steel wool one last time. She would pass the pale, odorless feces and clarified urine one last time. She would clean herself out so the Gatherers — whoever the fuck they were — could cook and eat her with minimal fuss. It was the least she could do to be worth whatever the hell they paid for her.