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(Author’s note: This is a continuation of a multipart . It will make more sense if you read the previous parts 1, 2, 3, 4.)
Rubbing my eyes, I pad from the little room I now call my own and stand blinking in the sunlight. I am sore between my legs, achier than I can ever recall. Pete smiles at me from the kitchen table, then pats the chair beside him.
Gingerly I sit on the prooffered chair. For a moment I stare at the bowl of porridge. Pete laughs as I suppress a yawn. “Why do I hurt so much?” I ask him. Reaching down, I rub at my pelvis.
“You don’t remember?” Pete seems genuinely curious as he leans across the table.
I wince at the sore muscles in my abdomen. Raising my sleep shirt, I stare at the fresh fourinch scar across my belly. “I…” I blink dazedly. “They took me away. I remember that. Something about… Conditioning?”
“Exactly.” Pete is patting my hand. “All girls need training before they become milkers. And now your training is complete.”
I nod wearily and try my food. Chewing, I rub my stomach. “I hurt down here. Did you fist me last night?”
Pete smiles and meets my eyes. “We had our usual session, like we always do. You pleased me very much, Dani. I’m sorry you don’t remember. But you had a surgery—I hear they can wipe your memories, sometimes.”
My jaws stretch into a mighty yawn. “I’m sorry,” I’m quick to apologize. “I remember some things. Like the camp, and all my swimming. I just don’t remember… I don’t know why I’m so tired. And…” I touch my bare breasts gingerly. “Why do these hurt?”
Pete gets up and moves to the kitchen. He brings back a bowl and sets it in his lap. “Because you’re a milker now. My very own. And if you lean toward me a bit, I can help them feel better.”
Sleepily I slump forward, resting my chin on Pete’s shoulder. His hands cup my aching breasts tenderly, the fingers stroking them gently from base to tip. He pinches my nipples gently, then wraps both hands around one breast. I feel a firm pull and squeeze from his warm strong hands, and then again as a hiss of fluid hits the bowl. A warm milky smell fills my nostrils as Pete works, his gentle fingers draining me, taking away my pain.
“Do you like me, Pete? I mean, do you have any feelings for me?”
Pete is smiling, his head bent beside me, watching as he works. “Of course, I do,” he returns. “You’re a good girl, Dani. Of course, I like you.”
Tears are running down my face. “As a person, I mean?” I ask quietly.
There is a pause as Pete’s caring hands work rhythmically on my breast. “You are a human,” he articulates. “But I can’t really say you are a person. I like you in the same way I would like the pup I had as a boy. Think about it. If you were a person, then we would all be cannibals, now wouldn’t we? And cannibalism is evil, which would make men evil.”
“Not to mention the bible would be wrong. In the bible its very clear that girls were not considered people. Very few of the female characters were even given names because there was no point. And they weren’t allowed in God’s temple. They were created for men, Dani, just like I think dogs were.”
I sigh in relief as the ache in my breast slowly subsides. “Do you think we have souls?”
Pete laughs and gathers up the flesh of my right breast in his hands, his fingers caressing the velvety skin. “No, of course not. Where are you getting these crazy ideas? You shouldn’t be talking like this.”
I am fighting to stop my tears, swiping my hand at my face. “Just wondering,” I force myself to say. “I like you, Pete. A lot.”
“And I like you,” he assures me. “I also like how productive you’re being for me this morning, and this is just your first time, too. They milked you a bit at the veterinarian’s office, but I think that was to just get you started.”
I lean against his shoulder, enjoying the press and pull of his hands. The milk is coming in steady spurts into the bowl, the smell of it making me sleepy.
“What did they do to make me have milk?” I ask. “You said I had a surgery?”
“That’s right,” says Pete. He sets the bowl aside and catches my shoulders, leaning me back in my chair. He bends to cradle my left breast in both hands, then kisses the nipple, wrapping his lips around it, sucking it and half of my areola into his mouth. I close my eyes as Pete begins to nurse, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
I wait him out, my mind focused on the sensation of being drained. He is kneading my right breast as he sucks, then moves his mouth to my right nipple.
“I like your taste,” he says finally. Licking his lips, he straightens up and stares me in the eye. “What were you asking me?”
“What surgery did they do?”
“Oh, that,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s just something all girls must go through to reach their last phase in life. I’m not sure what they do, exactly. The cut in your belly… I think they take something out inside that opens up the flow for you. Now you’ll have milk as long as I take care of you, and remember to milk you twice a day at least.”
I look at the bowl sitting on the table. The milk has filled it halfway, bubbles of white gathering around the metal sides.
“And now, we’ll put this in the fridge,” Pete says in a hearty voice. He stands up, and cradling the bowl in his arm, moves to the drawer with the saran wrap.
I gaze at my lap—what I can see of it between my breasts. “How will you kill me, Pete? When the time comes, I mean?”
He is setting the bowl on the top shelf in the refrigerator. “We’ll let that cool. Would you like some eggs for breakfast, Dani? That oatmeal wasn’t enough.”
I nod, watching as he sets the carton of eggs on the counter along with a halfused package of girl bacon. He flips on the stove, then rummages underneath for a frypan.
“How will you kill me?” I ask again.
He glances over with a look of surprise. “Oh that, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said. How will I kill you? I won’t. They have a mobile butcher who makes house calls now. I’m sure I would just contact him when the time comes.”
I watch him crack the eggs into the pan, my mind slowly mulling over this news. “So, you do plan to kill me, then? Once my milk runs out?” I stare in disbelief at the boy I thought was my friend.
He spreads the butter in the pan with a spoon, but his gaze is on me. “Why all this morbid talk all of a sudden? You have years to live yet. Dani, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You are safe here.”
“Until my boobs run dry,” I say bitterly. “I’ve done everything right for you, Pete. I’ve been a very good girl. So why would you want to kill me?”
He turns off the element on the stove and approaches me, a look of profound sympathy on his face. Taking a chair beside me, he scoots it close, staring me in the eyes. “I don’t want to,” he says gently. “Dani, it is the last thing I want. But do you think we men have much of a choice? This new world we’ve created limits men, too, maybe even more than it limits you girls. We cannot fall in love anymore—heaven forbid if any of us do that. We cannot have a wife or raise a family. We have nothing anymore to do with women, except to use you. They’ve put all the importance on just a few verses in the bible.”
He lowers his voice as if afraid of being overheard. “The bible says the first woman was made to be Adam’s help meet,” he whispers. “But the current interpretation forgets that Eve was also his friend, his companion, his confidante, and his lover. The trouble is we need to lower the population of humans on this planet. And we require a new source for things like milk and red meat. This is the solution they came up with, and they are using the bible as justification to make it right.”
I eye him closely. “So, you don’t think I’m like a dog?”
He shakes his head. “I’m trying very hard to see you like that, because losing you will be painful for me. But inside—” he taps his chest, “I know what you are, and you’re nothing like a dog, Dani.”
We embrace there in the kitchen, his strong arms wrapped protectively around me.
Tonya’s Tale
I huddle down flat as the three men trudge by, my chest buried in the muddy ground. The sticker bush pokes the middle of my back as I lay immobile, watching the men remove their heavy packs. They take out two tents and in moments have them erect. The three companions crawl inside, unrolling sleeping bags and unpacking gear. I can tell from even my low vantage point that these are the men hunting me.
For over two months I have eked out an existence living among these woods, finding a nearby cave to shelter in and killing small animals with my traps and snares. Somehow the men have discovered my home in the cliff, despite the fact that always I backtrack and sweep away my prints, leaving more signs ending at a river, then backtracking again. I walk on rocks for the most part, wherever I can find them. And I take care to move mostly at dusk, after my hunters build their camp and settle down.
My stomach growls as they unwrap a hunk of cooked meat and drive a stick into it, heating it over the fire. They are eating girl, as all men do now that the cattle, pigs and sheep are gone. The great solution to the overpopulation problem: a girl can reproduce once to keep humanity going, but then she gets slaughtered for her meat once her milk runs dry. Or worse, if a girl cannot reproduce, she gets a much shorter life, and is made into prime meat—a delicacy only the richest men can afford. These men are not rich, which means they have to work for their meat if they want to enjoy prime.
My name is Tonya, and I am sixteen. My father tried to escape with me through these woods, but then he tripped and broke his leg. He was a man, so he had value and wasn’t killed. They took him away to heal his injury and no doubt he’ll end up in prison. Or perhaps he’ll go through the intense reprogramming that all men must endure. The kind of mandatory classes that teach men the word of God.
I managed to hide in the bushes then, just as I’m doing now. These men have tracked me far into these mountains, and now are many days away from the nearest trail.
The men lick their fingers as they devour the meat. All are young, perhaps in their early twenties. I tense, anxious as I linger longer than I should, the possibility of an easy meal too tantalizing to resist. The firelight dances on their grimy faces as the last of the sunset vanishes behind the peaks. They talk amongst themselves for a while, and then they retire, crawling sleepily into their tents.
I creep out on my belly toward the low burning fire. The remnants of the meat lie in a pool of congealing fat on a plate by the flames. I reach for it from the shadows, grabbing at the flesh and gulping it down. Then slowly I crawl in reverse, avoiding the crackle of the dry pricker bush that had been my shelter. I continue to wriggle backward on my stomach, going as far as I dare, before I jump to my feet and hurry off on tip toe.
In the darkness I can’t find the rocks I need to avoid leaving a trail. Despair fills my heart as I realize I have waited too long to sneak away. I endeavor to walk without making a sound, but a branch snaps beneath my foot. It is almost pitch black in the forest around me. I hunch down and stare behind me, expecting flashlights to snap on at any second. When nothing happens, I walk at a crouch among the trees. My limbs are trembling with fatigue and fear. I freeze again as another twig cracks under my weight. I hear a grinding crunch behind me, and then another. Terror pulses through my muscles and I bolt forward into a run.
A large dark shape cuts me off, blocking my way. Hands fasten around my throat. I am lifted into the air, kicking and screaming with all my might until the choke hold cuts off my breath. Other hands rip at my clothing, tearing the fabric of my shirt. My bra is cut off next, my breasts tumbling loose. I cannot see in the dark, and yet the world is spinning as my jeans are yanked from my body. I am flung to the ground, my legs lifted and my panties wriggled off. Then something heavy crashes on top of me. I fight feebly and gulp for air. Something hard and warm pierces me between my legs. The pain is sudden and sharp, and I scream as hands seize my wrists and ankles, pulling me spreadeagle. I shriek again, and then there is nothing.
I wake to find myself tied to a tree. My bare legs are stretched out on the ground, my arms spread wide behind me, the rough bark of the tree grinding into my naked back.
The men are taking down their tents while one is making breakfast in a pan over the fire. My stomach growls at the smell of the instant oatmeal packets boiling in water. Ignoring me, the trio sit themselves down around the flames to eat their meal.
“So now what do we do with her?” One man asks with a sidelong glare at me. “Little bitch took long enough to catch.”
“Technically, since she’s a game animal,” Another man says, “we can do whatever we want. Any female caught escaping like this is the property of the hunter who catches her. That would be you, Robert. We can replenish our supply of meat with her. Or fuck her to death. That gets my vote.”
“Or both.” The man named Robert nods as he studies me. “I like that idea. Let’s get all we can out of her. How old do you suppose she is?”
The third man speaks up around a mouthful of oatmeal. “Middle teens, perhaps? Hard to tell under all that filth.”
“So great, we take her to the river and wash her,” Robert says. “Let’s see what we have first.”
“I know she was a virgin when I fucked her last night,” Albert replies. “There was blood in my jeans when I took them off later.”
Robert is nodding. “Good, you broke her in for us. I appreciate that.”
“Don’t mention it,” Al grumbles.
The third man unbuttons a pouch and takes out a plastic box. He pries it open, then lifts something out. “I brought a box of these in case we found her,” he says. “This drug will keep her pretty much out of it so we won’t have to feed her much.”
“Excellent idea, Nick. Might as well give it to her now. I can sense her begging for food even from here.”
I shrink away when I see the needle, but the man named Nick seizes my arm and jabs it in.
“That was stupid,” Al snaps. “Now if you do decide to butcher her, we’ll have that aftertaste, won’t we?”
Robert cracks his knuckles. “I think we should prolong that as long as we can. It took us months to catch this girl. Let’s use her for entertainment, something to do along the way.”
Nick is shaking his head as he returns to the fire. “This drug is designed special so it doesn’t affect the meat. That’s why it costs so much. We can administer this all we want, and her taste will not be ruined.”
My head droops to my chest as the drug takes effect. After a while I feel myself lifted by Robert’s strong arms. My head lolls back over his shoulder as the men carry me down a slope. I hear the roar of rushing water. Then suddenly I’m immersed over my head. The chill revives me somewhat and I thrash hard with my legs. Two men hold me in the current as Robert scrubs my body with a cloth. They flip me over, washing under my arms, behind my neck, and between my legs.
“There’s a nice flat rock over there,” a man calls, and Robert carries me to the spot, stretching me out on my back. The rock is highest under my hips, my head so low my hair catches in the water. The men are spreading my legs, probing my vagina with their fingers. I tense as a finger slips inside me. Then the man with the needles turns and grabs my arm. I feel the painful prick, and then the coldness of the drug rushing through me.
Dazed, I lie helpless as the men continue their exploration, handling my body like a choice piece of meat. The fingers push in again between my legs, and it hurts, and yet I register this fact from a distance, my mind floating. Two men hold my legs forward over my body while the other jams his member into me, his arms stiff on either side as, bracing himself on the rock, he thrusts repeatedly. The men trade positions and now another has filled me. He is lunging forward and back, the cock inside me pushing me along the rock. I see his manhood when he pulls it out, glistening wet and dripping with fluids. Then the third man takes position, and as he drives in the darkness comes, and I never feel the pain.
I wake to hear them talking. I am draped stomachdown over Robert’s back. As I listen, I catch the names of my owner’s companions. Al, the little greasyhaired man, is the one who wants to fuck me to death. The other man who always trails a few feet behind as they hike is Nick, who rarely talks and when he does, he complains that he’s tired of the drug and doesn’t like a limp body. He’s the one talking as the three men trudge uphill.
“I say we take her off the meds for a while,” Nick grumbles. He swipes a branch out of his way and stomps his way through a cluster of ferns. “I like to see terror in their eyes while I fuck. Maybe we can teach her proper respect before she dies.”
Robert answers back with words that are unintelligible. I am still foggy and struggling to wake. My privates burn between my legs, and I ache deeply inside.
The men stop often throughout the day, positioning me one way or another, always spreading my legs and holding me helpless while they all take turns. The nightmare seems endless, with a fist smashing my face now and then if I fight too much. And yet I do lash out whenever I find the strength, scratching and writhing—yanking at my arms being held with strong fingers.
I grunt as Robert throws me to the ground. Sobbing, I turn onto my side and curl up into a pathetic ball of misery, drawing my knees to my chest. The men ignore me as they set up camp. Afterward they untie my wrists and lay me over the huge trunk of a fallen tree.
My legs are spread as usual, with each man holding a knee. Robert pushes me up further over the trunk until my shoulders flop backward down the opposite side and I cannot see the men anymore. My pussy is probed again, with hands laying the folds back. Fingers push at the tender flesh of my vagina, with just one sinking in all the way. Robert is stirring it around in a circle. I can feel his breath on my fragile skin and my face burns as I realize what he’s staring at.
The fingers are moving again, with more of them diving in deep. I writhe and jerk my pelvis, trying to pull away. But always the hands follow my movements, one clamping around my hip to hold me still.
“Sweet little cunt,” Robert says. “Shall we explore inside a bit, guys?” More fingers join the first to hook inside my vagina, the two hands separating to stretch my opening, pulling from opposite sides.
I start to cry as Robert rotates his hand, pressing into my pussy hard with his weight. The knuckles bruise the rim of my vagina, grinding against the bones on either side. He tightens his fingers and twists some more, and pain shoots through me. I cry out and try to kick my legs but the men only tighten their grips, my feet going numb as they clasp me above the knees.
“This is better,” the one called Nick says. “I like a little fight in them.”
Robert doesn’t answer as he continues to press, his hand rotating slowly back and forth. He is pushing against me with all his weight behind it, working his fingers relentlessly in. I struggle to raise my shoulders above the tree trunk, to see the man doing this to me. Clawing at the wood, I wriggle my hips desperately to escape. I scream as the entire hand drives into me all at once. Sobbing, I flop back down, my arms dangling, brushing the petals of the wild flowers beneath me.
“Nice and tight,” Robert observes. “But not for much longer. And so wet, too.” He pushes with his hand to plunge in deep, forcing my tunnel open within. Slowly he pumps his hand in and out, small wet noises filling the air. He draws out completely, then taking his time, eases carefully back in. His breathing gets hoarse as he works. I close my eyes and struggle to relax, the fist sinking and pulling out, diving deep and rotating slowly. He turns his arm to change the angle, each thrust ripping cries from my lips, the pressure pushing sideways along my passage as repeatedly now he glides in and out.
“There is nothing better than a good fisting when it comes to taming wild girls,” greasy Al says. “Look at her. She’s not fighting you anymore.”
Robert is silent, the motion of his arm continual, rhythmic and smooth. “Don’t just stand there,” he says to one of his friends. “Get the ropes and tie the legs. Unless you want to hold them all night yourselves.”
The men jump to obey, wrapping towels around my ankles first, then tying them tight with cords. My legs are forced straight as they’re pulled in opposite directions, the men driving nails into the trunk to hold the ropes taut.
Al is climbing onto the trunk to straddle me. He leans toward Robert, bending away from my sight. Then hands are spreading my folds and pressing them back, out of the way of Robert’s fisting.
“Nick,” Robert pants. “Get in here. As soon as I draw out, I want you going in. Keep at it while I build the fire.”
I struggle again as there is a slight pause. A larger hand is pushing at me, pressing hard at the resistance of my body, then forcing itself deeper. I scream and pound at Al’s lower back. But the man ignores me, his weight on his hands holding me spread. Nick is grunting with every thrust as he drives in and out. I weaken in my struggles, then sat back and stare at the trees above my head. The clouds are slipping by majestically, and a hawk flies over. Hands are stretching me open up shallow, cool air wafting in to soothe my flesh. Fingers feel along the inside of my body, then the hand plunges deep again and holds inside me, the arm leaning from left to right. Now the strokes come hard and fast. I am spurting wildly from my cunt, crying in pain as my body succumbs. The men laugh and change positions, with Al easing his hand inside my pulsing flesh, and Nick straddling my body.
The sun is sinking slowly down the sky, and still the men work, two of them with their hands on me while the other drinks beer and watches.
“Nick,” Robert calls. “Give her the drug. I want to get as much out of her as we can.”
Nick leaps from the trunk and hurries to his bag. I feel the prick of the needle going in, then the spread of the drug through my body.
I am drooling as I hang above the flowers, the droplets falling on the petals below my head. The men labor hard on the other side of the trunk, hands pulling me this way and that, hands never satisfied and wanting more. I see blood on their fingers and still they work, with one of them using a baseball bat. I am sick inside and throwing up, and still they pound into me, using more than one hand now, and then a knife—slicing just at my opening to widen me further.
Tasting blood, I cough weakly. I lie limp against the tree, my spine arched back, my arms dangling. My mind is detached. Almost I can see myself as if from above, my breasts pointing to the sky, my legs stretched wide and held by ropes. And hands, bloody hands, moving endlessly in and out, with more blood staining the bark of the tree.
Later I wake to an agonizing pain. I am hot all over, sweat dripping from my hair. One of the men is fisting me steadily, unseen behind the trunk as he works.
“She’s hurt,” Nick’s voice says by the fire. “Possibly dying. Al got a bit carried away with that bat of his and damaged her inside. That’s what I think. That’s when she started bleeding and it hasn’t stopped.”
“Oh well, shit happens,” Robert says. “And then cutting her, too? That was probably a little extreme. But it worked. You got two inside her, didn’t you? Good for you.”
Nick nods. “We’ll keep working on her if you want, but I think she’s done. Al wants to tenderize her a bit with the bat before we kill her, but I told him no. I’m against cruelty to animals. She can’t help what she is. You know, older girls like this one remember the days before too much.”
“Yeh, whatever,” Robert responds. “I really don’t care what you do. It’s not like we planned to let her live.”
Nick returns to the fallen tree and nods to Al. “Yuh, he agrees. But we’ll do it my way. Let’s raise her up first, shall we?”
The ropes are yanked from the nails and I am released from the massive trunk, my body falling like a ragdoll’s among the pretty flowers. I am carried to a nearby tree, and my ankles are retied—together, this time. I see a rope sail over a branch high above, and then I am hoisted feet first, rising upside down until my head leaves the ground. My arms fall limply over my head. I am staring at a sparrow flitting in the bushes, its beady black eyes trained on me. I catch a glint of metal above me; agonized, I scream as the knife pierces my body above my pelvis. Nick, pressing in slightly, cuts downward in an even straight line, extending the cut until the blade hits my breastbone. Blood is pouring over my face as fingers dig in. Dazedly I feel the hands yanking me apart. There’s a strange lightening sensation, my bowels and bladder releasing. I moan as my insides tumble loosely over my head. The men are reaching inside my opened cavity, their groping hands pulling out more. There is a searing pain at my throat, and the hard steady pulse of blood from my neck. I see Robert bending over me, and then I…
***
Robert stares into space as Nick continues with his little knife. The river splashes over the carcass, the flaccid arms floating above the headless neck, the strong current cleansing out the gaping interior. Nick flips the body over as he works, his knife tip removing the last traces of skin.
“She lasted a good long time for us, didn’t she?” Al says and Robert nods.
“She did indeed,” Robert agrees. He pulls out his knife. Sighing, he steps into the water. “Come on, Al. Time to help Nick.”
***
The fire is warm on Robert’s face, the spitted torso browning nicely before him, juices from the fat making the fire pop. He leans forward and rubs his hands, his thoughts on the before times when females were treated as people.
“Did I ever tell you boys I once had female employees working at my store? They did good work, too. I never had any complaints.”
Al is silent as he works, cleaning the undersides of his two fresh trophies with his knife. “We’re not supposed to talk about that, remember?”
“I know,” Robert says. He sighs, stretching out his legs to the warming flames. “How many will this make?” He asks Al.
Al stops to count his prizes, all tied loosely in a row, like fish on a stringer. “Sixteen, once I add these two.”
“In other words, eight,” Robert muses. “Eight girls this summer. If I add up the bounty for eight kills in my head, we’ll be doing all right for ourselves this winter.”
“Getting paid to follow God’s will,” Nick says. “Now this is how it was meant to be.”
Robert nods and smiles. “Or so they say.” He climbs to his feet and looks around through the shadows of the darkening forest. “Now what did you do with the beer?”
End of Part 5
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