Even Heroines Need A Girls’ Night Out

by Scarlet

WARNING: This story contains sexual situations, sexual violence (c, nc, MF, FF), and snuff. It is to be read by adults only. If this sort of material is not to your liking, then read no further.
Credits: This story is based on a story idea suggested by The Sexecutor. The Wasp, Scarlet Witch, Invisible Woman, and Firebird are Marvel Enterprises characters used in this not-for-profit fan-fiction; no Trademark infringement is intended. The “nightclub” in this story is loosely based on an environment that Yppiz created in his story “Club Scene AKA the Wall”.

Chapter 1. Arrival

Four bikini clad women cautiously emerged from the dark alley, their eyes darting around to make sure their arrival had not been observed. “Good, there is no one around,” whispered Sue Richards, the sky-blue-clad blonde with shoulder-length hair who had been responsible for the group’s transportation. “And, with the time-ship cloaked and parked out of the way, it is likely that our presence will not attract undue attention.”

“The four of us, walking around in swimwear, cannot help but attract attention, Sue!” chortled Bonita Juarez, the Latino with long raven tresses who was dressed in a red-trimmed yellow bikini. “Why couldn’t we have worn our costumes or street clothes?”

“Sue said ‘undue attention’, Bonita,” chided Janet Van Dyne, shaking her short auburn locks as she frowned at her teammate. Janet’s bikini was dark blue. “We can’t wear our costumes, because we are in the future, the 41^st Century to be precise, and someone might recognize us from the history books. Time travel has been outlawed in this century, right, Wanda?”

“Yes, that’s right, Janet,” answered Wanda Maximoff, who shot Bonita a friendly smile before she continued, “Kang the Conqueror’s rule ended only thirty years ago, so the citizens in this era are pretty much against potential time-traveling despots.” Her gold-flecked blue eyes sparkled as she paused to adjust the rose-colored bikini that hardly restrained her adequate bosom. Her long auburn hair blew in the slight evening breeze as she continued to answer Bonita’s question, “And it is also against the law for most women to wear street clothes after dark. We would be arrested, if caught so attired, and sent immediately to a conversion facility. With our super powers, we would likely be able to fight our way back to the time-ship rather than end up as meat, but that would ruin our girls’ night out, wouldn’t it?”

This trip to the future had been Wanda’s idea. As the hex wielding Scarlet Witch, she had been captured by Kang and brought to the future just before the end of his reign. While in the despot’s custody, she had narrowly escaped being the featured course at one of Kang’s feasts. It had been during her unwilling stay in Kang’s custody that she had learned of the 41st Century’s challenges—challenges that had resulted in interesting customs. It was one of those customs, along with a new medical device now in the hands of the Avengers, which had caused her to suggest this ‘field trip’ to her fellow Avengers, the Wasp (Janet) and Firebird (Bonita). The extension of the invitation to Sue Richards, the Invisible Woman of the Fantastic Four, had been crucial to the plan—the Fantastic Four had captured and maintained one of Kang’s time-ships.

“Who would arrest us? Why is it against the law for women to wear street clothes after dark?” Bonita asked quickly, concern filling her dark brown eyes.

“And, what is a conversion facility, which you said we would be taken to?” Sue asked, her blue eyes showing interest rather than concern.

“More importantly, define ‘end up as meat’!” Janet shot, the twinkle in her own blue eyes indicating she already knew the answer and just wanted to shake up Bonita.

Wanda sighed and took a deep breath. She had known she would have to explain things to her friends sooner or later, but had hoped to be able to wait until they had reached the relative safety of the nightclub. “This world, Bonita, is quite different from our own. A few centuries ago, disease swept through the planet, destroying most animal life. Much of the human population survived, but the animals that we depended on for food became extinct…all of them. That resulted in a serious food shortage and the need for population control. The world government decided to implement two forms of population control. First, only one in twenty babies born may be of male sex. With so few males on the planet, there is tremendous competition among the women of the world to have a male mate. Consequently, men are treated like gods, and can, by law, have anything they want at any time from most women. The men don’t like to wait for a lot of clothing to be removed before they get what they want, hence the dress code. Only a few ‘papered’ women with official marriage status to a man, or with special knowledge or skills needed by society, are protected from the requirements of this law. We don’t have papers, so any male we run into could order us to a conversion facility.”

Wanda paused to let her friends take in the new information before continuing, “The second form of population control was the creation of ‘The Lottery’. Un-papered women of age 18 and older must submit to a weekly lottery. Those women whose numbers come up, the winners, must report within 24 hours of ‘The Lottery’ to a conversion facility. At the conversion facility, the winners are graded to determine if they will be live roasters, milk cows, butchered meat, or ground meat. Some women prefer to be pre-graded, so that they will know their fate in advance. Women can volunteer for conversion without winning ‘The Lottery’ at a conversion facility, or many other non-government run facilities. It is called ‘winning’ ‘The Lottery’, because the winners’ families receive monetary compensation when a family member is converted. This culture has come to accept this way of life, so most women think nothing of it.”

Bonita gasped, before saying in a shaking voice, “They use women for food? This is one sick world you have brought us to, Wanda! Why in heaven’s name did we choose to come here?”

Janet laughed before chortling, “So that we can get bigger, firmer, more perfect breasts…after we are done partying, and return to the past to have my husband use the Chula nanogene tissue regenerator on us!”

“If we don’t run into a male, who happens to be cruising the neighborhood looking for one or more live roasters he can command to join his barbecue party!” Wanda spat sarcastically. “You can’t regenerate digested women.”

“OH!” Sue gasped before stammering, “Th…th…then…may…maybe…we better get moving. How far away is this…nightclub?”

“Only about three more blocks,” Wanda answered with a broad smile on her face. “Follow me.”

The other three heroines did exactly that, in silence, their eyes scanning for men.

Chapter 2. The Nightclub

Soon, the girls had arrived at the nightclub, which was aptly named, ‘Final Fantasy’. Wanda quickly led her friends through the entry way at the south end of the building to a table near the back of the main rectangular-shaped room. It was early still, Wanda suddenly realized, as there were only a few other customers sitting in the large room, which was U-shaped due to the kitchen that was placed against the center of the east wall. The kitchen was enclosed on three sides, but the side of the kitchen that faced the back wall featured a bar with stools and several food and drink ordering stations. The area between the bar and back wall was devoid of tables to function as both a dance floor and observation deck. The north wall, behind the dance floor, was interesting in that it had five pairs of holes cut into it, and a small window with computer controls next to it set above each set of holes; below each set of computer controls was a red button. There was a door in the north wall west of the dance floor; the sign above it read ‘The Wall’, and a poster pasted on the door read, ‘Is This Your Lucky Night?’ There was a low, elongate piece of machine-like furniture against the north wall a short distance from the table that the girls were sitting at that had a long, metal spike cradled horizontally in a bullet-shaped holder at its rear end; there were several other identical machines against the west wall of the room that had one door leading out. Above this door, a sign read ‘Barbecue Pits’.

“May I take your order?” asked a pretty, blonde waitress dressed only in tight, black shorts. She giggled as she watched all four of the bikini-clad women at the table jump at the sound of her voice. As they tore their eyes away from examining the room, they noticed the abundant uncovered bosom of the young women who waited to take their order; based on bust size, she could easily be a superheroine like themselves.

Before her friends could respond for themselves, Wanda quickly replied, “We would each like a Lactic Blaster, please.”

“Sure thing. Would you like me to bring food menus?” the waitress chirped.

“Maybe later,” Wanda quickly again responded for the group. As the waitress walked towards the bar past the two tables between theirs and the dance floor, Wanda noticed the table nearest the dance floor had a reserved sign on it. Wanda also noticed the words ‘Final Fantasy’ printed in white on the back of the waitress’s shorts, one word on each firm cheek.

“Hey! I wouldn’t mind some food,” Bonita spat, fortunately after the waitress was out of earshot. “Can’t we order some sandwiches or something?”

“Yes…we could. Bacon sandwiches are one of this establishment’s main attractions, and as they have barbecue pits you can assume they have other cuts of meat as well,” Wanda answered quietly with a quirky smile on her face.

“Bonita,” Janet said softly, “you need to pay attention to where and when we are. Remember that Wanda told you all of the food animals are extinct. The bacon doesn’t come from pigs, and if you order a fillet it isn’t going to be a cut from beef.”

Sue quickly jumped in to soften the blow to Bonita’s pride. “Okay, by bacon you mean human breast meat, because it is mostly fatty tissue, right? I can figure that out for myself. Fillet, however, is a little more difficult. Can you explain?”

Wanda blushed beet red as she nervously replied, “A fillet is the most expensive cut of meat…errr…it’s from the apex of a woman’s legs…”

“Pubic mound and labial meat?” Janet asked with a laugh in her voice.

“Yes, that’s about it, Janet,” Wanda quickly answered.

“Ewww, God!” Sue moaned, looking a little sick to her stomach. “Is it okay to be a vegetarian in this time zone?”

“Yes,” Wanda chortled as she watched her friends squirm, “and quite common too…due to the price of meat…not moral- or health-based issues. Many people only get a good serving of meat at an establishment like this one, where the food is free, under certain conditions, because it is provided by volunteers donating their meat.”

The nightclub was beginning to fill with customers, and the heroines stopped talking and watched with concern as a male entered the establishment and began walking in their general direction; they worried that he would ask for their papers and order them to a conversion facility when they were unable to produce them. They all sighed in relief as a minute later he walked past them and through the door marked ‘The Wall’.

“Here you go,” the waitress chirped, as she began setting glasses before the women who were once again startled by her interruption, “four Blasters as ordered. Don’t get your hopes up with the owner, Mr. Jennings there, he’s already married,” she pleasantly offered, obviously having noticed and misinterpreted their attention to the man. A wealthy woman could become papered by bribing a male to marry her in the 41^st Century.

“Oh…we weren’t…never mind,” Sue stammered. “Could we get your vegetarian menu…Oh! What happened to your shorts…Miss…errr…sorry, what is your name?” The four heroines’ eyes had all dropped from the waitress’s face to her closely shaved sex as they now realized she was entirely naked.

“Aimee,” the waitress replied and then laughed. “One vegetarian menu it is, and, as you should already know, the fact that my fillet is on display means it is my hour-long stint to be offered as a potential menu item. That means I’m very happy to provide the vegetarian menu, though it kind of begs the question of why you chose to eat here.”

“My friends are from the country, Aimee,” Wanda said, again running interference. “We are thinking about donating, rather than eating. That’s why I ordered the Blasters.”

“Donating? The Wall, or are you here for Jessica?” Aimee asked with interest.

“Jessica…wh…?” Bonita began to ask, but was interrupted by Wanda.

“Most likely just the former, Aimee,” Wanda answered. “Why don’t you explain how things work here to my friends? Then explain why you have to do a stint of…errr…being a potential menu item.”

“Sure thing,” Aimee said pleasantly. “As you know, our renowned specialty is bacon sandwiches. If you are willing to volunteer to risk losing, or want to donate, your bacon, you go through that door,” Aimee pointed to ‘The Wall’ door, “remembering to drop your clothes at the entrance, and enter one of the debreasting booths. You can then set some controls on how and how fast you lose your bacon if someone chooses you, and whether or not the window is transparent to the people on the other side so they can see your face. You can also leave the controls unlocked and let the person on this side make some or all of those decisions. You must remain in the booth for 10 minutes, or until the donation is over; the last minute of that period, by the way, is always made very rewarding to make the game worth playing for the risk takers. Now…you may or may not get chosen…but if you enter a booth just once, drinks are on the house all night long; otherwise you pay your tab at the end the night. After you’ve donated, or when the 10 minutes are up, you leave the booth and then the Game room. Unless you don’t want to volunteer to be a potential menu item, you need to remember to put at least your bottoms on before you return to this room. You can play the game on that side of the wall as often as you want, as long as there is an open booth, and you still have breasts to put at risk or donate to become bacon.”

Aimee took a deep breath before continuing, “Now, you can also play the game from this side of the wall, but only once every hour. You can inspect the wagered breasts that have been put at risk, and even feel them up if you want. You can see what options the player in the booth has chosen for donating her bacon, or see if she has left the choice of options to the players on this side of the wall, by reading the computer screen beside her booth’s window. If you pick a set of breasts and hit the red ‘debreast’ button by the window, thus accepting the donation from the volunteer in the booth, you carry the bacon, once free of the risk-taker or donator’s chest, to an ordering station at the kitchen bar and we will make our bacon sandwiches for you and your tablemates free of charge. We keep any extra bacon to sell to our customers; that’s part of our profit margin. As vegetarians, you’ll be happy to know that we will substitute vegetarian sandwiches for the bacon sandwiches as long as you’ve provided us with a donated set. We have one additional rule to keep the game fun for all; to prevent bad losers from seeking retribution from the girl who pushed their button, you have to have breasts or be male to play the game on this side of the wall.”

“I see…very interesting!” Wanda interjected. “Now…remembering to put at least your bottoms back on…that takes us back to the menu question…doesn’t it, Aimee?”

“Right!” Aimee chortled. “You don’t need to remind me that I should be glad you’re vegetarians! We waitresses here get paid very well. Part of the reason for that is that we have to take turns making sure the establishment has food resources; there are four of us on staff, so I have that duty every four hours. During my stint, if none of the booths are occupied,” Aimee nervously glanced over to the wall, and then smiled as she realize that two of the booths were now occupied and that there didn’t seem to be any serious interest in collecting either of the potential donations, “any male or breasted customer can ask me to take a turn in a booth as a volunteer. They can do that whether their intention is to harvest my bacon and grab a free sandwich or to just to keep things interesting. Also, if for some reason we are running low on bacon during my shift, whoever is running the establishment at the time can tell me to harvest the current volunteers; if that rare situation arises, to be fair, I harvest everyone currently playing in a booth, whether that be one set or five sets, starting with the player who has the least time remaining in the game.”

Aimee paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “Additionally, any male or breasted customer willing to pay the price of a fillet during my shift, can order me or any other potential menu item to take a ride on Jessica,” Aimee said nodding to the low machine against the wall a short distance from their table. “If an employee ends up spitted and barbecued, and therefore on the menu, their family gets the price of the fillet, which is 3,000 credits, and a full shift’s wages. If a customer ends up spitted because they forgot to put on their bottoms before they re-entered this room, and someone offers to purchase their fillet, the boss keeps the credits…also part of the profit margin. Oh…and one more thing…you always need to be wary of Jessica…she is a trap as well as a tool! I’ve had several friends unintentionally end up as meat because of a Jessica. Now…enjoy your drinks and have fun. I’ll be back with your vegetarian menu soon…unless I get purchased.”

As Aimee hurried away, Sue picked up the Lactic Blaster before her, sniffed its aroma, and stared at the liquid, noticing the bluish tinge to its generally white color. “Fermented human milk?” she asked.

“Yes,” answered Wanda, “the alcohol content is higher than you would expect based on taste, and it contains drugs to enhance a woman’s sex drive. Combined with the orgasmatron beam you experience during the last minute of your stay in the booth, the reward Aimee mentioned, the drink guarantees that once you try out a booth, you will keep trying...if not this night, then some other night…until you finally don’t have the assets,” Wanda cupped each of her large breasts with one of her hands before continuing “needed to play the game again. Part of the profit margin, I suspect Aimee would have pointed out.”

“Why do these women do this to themselves?” Bonita asked. She wasn’t looking at her friends as she spoke; she was staring at the Jessica 3000 machine against the wall. “More importantly, why don’t we leave well enough alone and go back home before something bad happens?”

“Look around you, Bonita,” Wanda suggested. The room was now almost filled to capacity. If there were men present, Wanda couldn’t see one. “These women undergo a weekly lottery to determine if they will live or die. Most will have their number come up within a few years or less; none of them will die of old age. There isn’t a reason for them to play it safe. The thrill of the risk and the pleasure they receive from the orgasmatron beam in the booth is very attractive to them; enough to take the risk if their sole intention isn’t to volunteer their bacon. Also, if you’ve been preselected to be a milk cow when your number comes up…well they don’t have Chula nanogene technology like we do…donating is a way to avoid being force-milked for the rest of your life.” Wanda blushed and frowned, before whispering, “As heroines, we all know how much that really blows, don’t we!” She took a sip of her Blaster, wondering who had provided the milk.

Janet frowned. She knew that, of the four of them, Bonita was the only one who had likely not yet ran into a Doctor Lactose-type villain. She probably had not yet contributed to the blue-tinged-milk black market that thrived in the 21^st Century. She decided to avoid pointing that out, and wryly addressed Bonita’s other question. “And we’re going to do it because we’re superheroines, which means we are sex whores and pain sluts and grave degradation, and because we WAN’T to get our balloons popped so we can use the nanogene tissue regenerator to rebuild our breasts bigger, firmer, and more sensitive than they were before.”

Sue laughed, and replied, “I don’t know, Janet, I may be with Bonita on this one now. I’m starting to have second thoughts. That Jessica machine gives me the creeps, and Bonita doesn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off of it!”

“Look, all of you,” Wanda warned, “I want you to be very clear about one thing. Do not go near to those Jessica 3000 machines. They are designed to induce in women a strong psychological desire to climb on them, and if you do climb on them, they are designed to turn on, lock you in position so you can’t get off, and then push that six-foot-long, sharply pointed phallus you see at the back of the machine into your sex. That spit will then travel through your body, using special sensors and advanced guidance systems to avoid damaging a vital organ or artery, until it comes out your mouth. You are then ready to be slow cooked, alive, over a roasting pit. These machines are now likely, due to my escape from one during Kang’s time, equipped with energy fields to negate our super-human abilities. I repeat…do not go near those Jessica machines…if one of you gets locked into one of those devices, the rest of us will not risk being captured and converted to save you from becoming meat!”

“Lighten up and watch,” Janet tersely implored, pointing to the wall at the back of the dance floor, “the nearest volunteer is about to enter her tenth minute in the booth. Also, the other one with the fair-skinned, nice-sized set has four minutes left, and those two oriental women have been taking turns fondling her breasts while talking to each other. I think they are discussing lunch!” Janet was obviously very excited, and she broke into a broad grin when moans of pleasure could be heard coming from the near booth.

“Wanda has to be right!” shrilled Sue. “The booths must be equipped with orgasmatron beams; good heck, I hate it when they are used on me to cause forced orgasms! OOoops! Janet was right! One of the oriental women just hit the debreast button on the other woman’s controls…look a circular saw just popped out this side of the booth wall, started spinning, and is rising upwards towards her moneymakers. God, Wanda…this place is everything you said it would be and more!”

Soon two women were moaning in their booths behind the wall in obvious pleasure as the rapidly spinning circular saw slowly rose. The woman who had pushed the debreast button busily licked and suckled on her volunteer’s quivering nipples. Fifteen seconds later, as the saw approached flesh, the woman stopped licking and began pulling the nipples outward, obviously trying to get as much of the breasts as possible onto her side of the saw. Then the saw touched the bottom of the woman’s breasts and rivulets of blood could be seen along the margins of the two circular holes from which the doomed breasts protruded.

Everyone in the vicinity stopped to watch the saw’s slow upward progression, and to listen to the moans; the moans from one woman now clearly a mixture of pleasure and pain. Then the moans from the near booth abruptly stopped, and the mid-sized swooping breasts pulled back from the holes. The other woman was mostly screaming now, the volume somewhat weaker, as the saw was more than halfway through her fleshy orbs. Finally, three loud sighs were issued, no doubt indicating a massive climax, as the saw completed its path through flesh. As the orbs came free of their donator, the weight of the breasts transferred to the oriental woman’s arms causing them to drop for a distance before she raised her prizes over her head, grinning in obvious jubilation.

The room was suddenly awash with activity. Club attendants were busy washing blood, much less of it than most would have expected, from both sides of the wall. Another attendant was mopping up the drops that tracked the oriental woman’s path to a food ordering station at the bar. ‘The Wall’ door suddenly popped open, and a jubilant redhead with shoulder-length hair quickly pulled on her loose purple shorts before rushing to the dance floor to high-five her friends; obviously the pair of breasts that had escaped unscathed. Then there was a cluster of women trying to fight their way into ‘The Wall’ room to play the game, one a black girl with huge, slightly drooping breasts. Within minutes, all five pairs of holes were filled with breasts of a variety of shapes and sizes. These breasts were quickly being rubbed and poked by people on the dance floor side. The first debreasting of the night had obviously raised the crowd’s interest; it was like blood in shark-infested water.

‘The Wall’ door opened again, and a slim, short-haired blonde in grey swim trunks emerged wearing circular bandages and smiling weakly. Her friends were waiting for her at the door, and the heroines could hear her bragging about how she had actually done it, and that it had been the experience of her lifetime.

Moans of pleasure began again, this time in the center booth behind the wall; two huge breasts protruded from the holes there—the black girl’s. The moans abruptly shrilled in orgasm as a guillotine blade suddenly passed downward on the inside of the booth wall through the protruding flesh, sending blood splattering; the weight of the severed orbs abruptly forced the arms of another black girl, who had hit the debreast button, down to her sides as she struggled to maintain her grip on the still quivering flesh. Soon, the cleanup attendants were at it again.

“Oh, shit!” Bonita exclaimed. “A circular saw, and now a guillotine blade. How many ways are there to be debreasted in there?”

“I’m not sure,” Wanda answered softly, now happy about the excitement she could see in her friends’ faces. “Circular saw from the bottom, guillotine blade from the top, laser beam slicers from the top or bottom, and, I think, razor-wire loops. Maybe even more methods, but I can’t be sure. The chances of getting selected as a donator, and, obviously, the intensity of the orgasmatron beam, depend somewhat on the pain risk associated with the method you choose, and the speed at which you choose for the procedure to be completed. I’m surprised someone was chosen with the relatively fast guillotine blade method. Maybe she was chosen because her breasts we so huge, or maybe the girl who hit the debreast button was a friend who had been asked to help make sure the offered donation was accepted.”

“Well, you are the expert!” Janet exclaimed with obvious sarcasm. “You’re the only one here to have gone through the procedure before…by guillotine I believe. They say the Riddler still has your moneymakers on display at his hunting lodge. Trophies on a wall; that was the fate of the set you were born with!” Janet chided her friend. “Good thing the tissue regenerator had just been brought on line.”

“Yeah, well, I still mean to kill the Riddler for that, if I ever get my hands on him,” Wanda retorted, her face beet red. “However, keep in mind what Sue said about the orgasmatron beam; you hate it when it is forced on you, but you wish you had one at home to use on yourself when you’re in the mood. I don’t know if being debreasted is going to be exactly like that, but at least we won’t feel the terror of not knowing what is going to happen, or the anger of being forced to submit to another’s will; those were the most terrible things I experienced on that day with the Riddler.”

“Okay, I’m back on board,” exclaimed Sue, “but I suggest one condition. We don’t push the button on each other. Let it be someone that we don’t know.”

“I agree wholeheartedly with that,” Wanda replied rapidly. “The people who poach our breasts should be strangers.”

“I agree as well,” Bonita said softly.

“Okay, we agree,” Janet said sounding a bit dejected. Janet and Wanda were close friends, but Janet would pop her friend’s big moneymakers without hesitating if given the chance, and she knew Wanda knew it!

“Then, who goes first?” Sue asked, glancing from face to face around the table.

“I do!” Janet proclaimed, as she watched the black girl who used to sport large breasts exit ‘The Wall’ room wearing loose, white gym shorts; she now sported circular bandages, but otherwise looked not too bad for the wear. A short, raven-tressed girl darted through the door before it could close. “I guess I’m going to go over and stand by the door, so I can grab the next open booth. Bonita, you might want to go hit the kill switch on one of those sets poking through the wall once the menu gets here, so you can trade for vegetarian. You were the hungry one,” Janet said with a big smile, “but get enough for all of us. If the menu arrives after I’ve gone through the door…well if you want to keep our agreement, pay attention to which station I fill. If you blow it and pick me…well that’s cool too.” Janet pushed her chair back, got up, and strode quickly over to the door.

Chapter 3. Janet Plays the Game

Janet managed to get the position closest to the door, but suddenly realized she was only one of six or seven would be booth players. Also, there were at least a dozen other people at any given time standing near the door, and it dawned on Janet that they weren’t there to take a turn in the game by walking through the door. Their eyes jumped from chest to chest, and were filled with looks of hunger. They were waiting for their chance to play the game, but on this side of the wall; they were comparison shopping.

When the other girls waiting for a booth to become available began to remove their tops, Janet followed suit. The shoppers moved from girl to girl, measuring each set that would soon be risked as potential donations with their eyes, but being careful not to actually come into physical contact with the would-be volunteers. A tall blue-eyed blonde with a fine-featured face leaned her head close to a topless redhead, almost equally as beautiful, and whispered, “I will pick you if you play the game.” The redhead’s perfect breasts were huge, and the freckled skin unmarred.

For a moment, it looked like the redhead couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Then she whispered back, “Fine…you do that…you’ll be saving me from dairy life. However, if you want to keep yours, you won’t want to walk through that door before I do.” She nodded at ‘The Wall’ door.

The blonde, dressed in tight white dress shorts decorated with little red hearts, pulled up her matching tube top to let the redhead see her own attributes, before retorting, “Fair enough. Try to wait me out if you want. But stay awake. I play smart.” From her vantage point, Janet thought the blonde’s breasts looked to be about Wanda’s size; large enough to make Janet envious. The blonde noticed Janet staring and smiled. “You’re safe from me, babe; yours are nice and perky but slightly unsubstantial.” Janet felt slighted and glared at the blonde who was now walking towards the dance floor; Janet wondered what she meant by playing smart.

A gasp from the dance floor brought everyone’s attention back to the fleshy orbs protruding from the wall. A Latino with long, black hair had a medium-sized right breast cupped in her left hand, while her right hand waivered over the debreast button. For a moment, Janet thought it was Bonita following her suggestion, but then she realized that this girl had a much larger bust. The Latino was whispering at the window; Janet suddenly realized that this was more of a social game than shopping at a grocery store. She thought she could hear someone else whispering; she wondered, ‘is it the volunteer whose breast is being cupped?’ Then the Latino hit the debreast button and began fondling and sucking in earnest on the breasts that were soon to be hers. The moans of pleasure began coming from the booth almost immediately, and a minute or two later, Janet thought she could detect a red glow, but couldn’t really see what was happening.

Her fellow heroines back at the table could, however. Sue realized it first, and spat excitedly, “Horizontal laser beam…slowly lowering from the top.”

“Mid-speed,” Wanda corrected, “definitely not the slowest setting, but slow enough to attract the dark-haired girl to mid-sized breasts. Bonita, look at the wall,” Wanda ordered as she realized her teammate had gone back to gazing at the Jessica machine.

“Yes,” Bonita said, trying indicate that she had been paying attention, “look at how those who had been exploring the other women’s breasts, perhaps thinking of taking them, have pulled their hands away and are watching the debreasting in progress. They are obviously respecting the sacrifice that is about to happen.”

“Listen, her moans of pleasure seem to increase in intensity as the beam gets closer to the flesh it will soon cut,” Sue observed. “It is that because the intensity of the orgasmatron beam is being gradually increased? Or is the ever increasing threat of bodily damage causing a sexual response from the girl?”

The Latino pulled hard on both of her victim’s nipples, and then screams of pain suddenly joined the moans of pleasure, as the beam touched flesh. “Probably a little of the latter and a lot of the former,” Wanda replied, watching the unfolding event without blinking.

“Look, light wisps of smoke and no blood yet,” Bonita observed. “Maybe the laser beam is cauterizing the wounds at the top of each breast.”

“In that case, I think I’ve chosen how my boobies are going to bite the dust,” Sue chortled over the shrieks of pain mixed with pleasure, not realizing how incredibly unlikely those words would have sounded not so long ago. “I’ll make sure to use the slowest setting though. I don’t plan on having this experience more than once, so I want to make the most of it now. No offense intended, Wanda.”

“None taken,” Wanda softly replied. The laser was about half way through the mid-sized mounds, and the girl in the booth was gasping in either pain or pleasure or both. “This is mind-boggling. I suggested this trip, but even I can’t believe we are really here watching this…with interest…and bad intentions.”

Seconds later, three screaming orgasmic sighs coincided with the breasts changing ownership, as the laser slicer finished its slow downward path through the girl’s meat. This time, ‘The Wall’ door immediately popped open. Fortunately, Janet had already transferred her attention from the debreasting to the door, and was the first one to step through. She quickly shed the rest of her bikini, making a pile next to the door that closed slowly behind her. She looked in the direction the booths must be, and watched with interest as the attendants pulled a petite brunette with short-cut hair from the booth. One attendant waved Janet toward the three-walled semi-enclosure the brunette had been pulled from, while the other slapped round bandages over the brunette’s cauterized wounds to prevent infection. The brunette was already on her way to the exit door, talking cheerfully with the attendant that had bandaged her as the other attendant, a tall muscular girl sporting a blonde Mohawk, guided Janet into the booth.

The debreasting booth was much more technologically complex than Janet expected, in spite of the fact that she was well aware this was the 41^st Century. “Step up close to the wall,” the attendant instructed, “and lean towards the debreasting portals.”

Janet did as she was told, sliding her upper torso forward along a narrow, leather-covered rectangle that protruded horizontally a little over three feet straight outward from the front of the booth on the left side of her body; suddenly the surface on which she was standing rose slightly so that the base of her breasts were at the precise elevation of the holes in the wall. “Okay…push your puppies through, lean against the wall, spread your feet and push your thighs against the leather covered t-bars to the right and left of your legs, place your hands on the wall on either side of the window, and prepare to be secured,” the attendant continued in the same instructional tone.

Once again Janet did as she was told, becoming a bit nervous when her breasts were finally on the kitchen side of the wall, and becoming very nervous when the rectangle on the left side of her torso suddenly bent to curve around her back and secure her upper torso firmly against the wall; at the same time, the horizontal straps at the top of the T-bars bent inwards to curve around her legs and secure her upper thighs, and the vertical rods they protruded from tilted slightly to adjust her pelvis position until a thin white light centered directly on her clitoris. “Okay, set the controls on the right side of your window,” the attendant continued. “First you set the debreasting method you are willing to accept by choosing from the on-screen menu, or select ‘secondary controls may override’.” The attendant watched as Janet selected guillotine; the attendant thought to herself ‘this one obviously wants her donation to be over quickly if she gets picked as a volunteer.’

“Okay, that debreasting option is gravity driven, so the computer skips the speed control setting menu,” the attendant calmly explained, before continuing, “so now select window transparency, one-way or two-way.” Janet selected ‘one-way’; she didn’t want the people in the other room to see how nervous she was.

“Finally, select ‘de-clit option yes’ or ‘de-clit option no’,” the attendant quickly instructed.

What? De-clit…I don’t understand!” Janet stammered, now very concerned.

“If you select ‘de-clit option yes’, the person on the other side of the wall can use their controls to activate a declitting field if they so desire, and if chosen for donation, you might leave the room sexually neutered,” the attendant answered, now sounding a bit irritated. “Don’t you know what a declitting tube or field is?”

“Yes,” Janet stammered. “I think declitting tubes were invented near the beginning of the 21^st Century. The device developed then used contractible rubber rings to clamp onto and slowly extract, by stretching, the entire clitoral glans and most of the clitoral shaft. Then a laser severed the organ. It is female castration at its most extreme.”

“Yes,” the attendant said, softly. “Now it’s done with force fields and lasers. The tiny flesh, once extracted and severed, is ‘candy’ to be consumed, raw, by the person on the other side of the breast ports immediately after the debreasting is finished and while the debreasted girl is still watching through the window. In my experience, selecting ‘de-clit option yes’ greatly improves the chance that the game player will be selected as a volunteer donator, and carries with it a very big risk reward.”

“I’ll pass on that,” Janet whispered nervously and quickly selected ‘de-clit option no’. “Now what?”

“Simply press, ‘start timer’, and your ten minutes begin,” the attendant said sweetly. “May one of our guests accept your donation, if that is your goal, and may you enjoy the orgasmatron beam and keep your breasts so that you can play again, if you’re here for the thrill and pleasure that comes with putting them at risk!” The attendant then left the booth as Janet noticed the timer on her computer console had started ticking down. Janet’s game had begun!

Meanwhile, out in the main room at their table, the other heroines were watching with interest. “Yes,” said Wanda, “I’m sure that new set of breasts in the forth booth over are Janet’s perky pair. As we now have the menu from Aimee, and a new round of drinks on their way, Bonita, you can now follow Janet’s suggestion, and harvest one of the other sets…if you’re really that hungry.” Wanda finished the last of her first glass of Lactic Blaster and smiled at Bonita.

“Oh…I’m not sure I can do that to another woman,” Bonita said in a shaking voice. “Besides, the players in the other four booths are all about to enter their final minute. It would be mean to let them think they are going to escape the game in one piece, and then take their breasts at the very last minute.” Bonita drank the last of her glass, and glanced over to Sue.

“I understand…totally,” said Sue as she finished her own glass, “just don’t expect me to get lunch for you. I wonder what it is like for Janet in the booth right now. Hey, it looks like that chubby brunette is considering Janet’s set!”

Down in the booth, Janet suddenly was awash with fear as, through her one-way window, she watched the brunette reaching for her mammaries. She could see the glee in the woman’s green eyes. Then Janet gasped as she felt her breasts being caressed by the woman, and heard her ask, “Do you want me to turn these into bacon, my dear?”

“Oh, GOD…no…no…I mean yes…” Janet stammered and let out a low moan as the woman tugged lightly on both of her nipples. She was filled with trepidation.

Then, louder moans began exuding from one booth after another as the other players entered their final minute. This seemed to distract the chubby brunette, who took her hands off Janet’s bosom. Then a blonde tapped on the brunette’s shoulder from behind, and pointed back to one of the tables. The brunette looked out to the tables and then back to Janet’s breasts. She cupped a hand under each of the quivering orbs and lifted slightly, as if to gage their weight. Then she whispered, “Next time, dear girl. I promise.” The brunette smiled, and then walked away.

Janet heard a soft gasp of relief through the rising crescendo of pleasure-filled moans, and suddenly realized the gasp had come from herself. She was obviously having serious doubts about the plan she and her heroine friends had implemented. Those doubts meant that the slightly over eight minutes she had left in the booth were going to seem like forever. All Janet could do was watch the girls in front of her dance with each other, and watch the women standing nearer to the wall lick their lips as they considered the choice of free lunches being offered before them.

Soon the moans of pleasure became orgasmic sighs, and then the room grew quiet save for the sound of retreating footsteps, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Janet twisted her head so that she could see the four new girls as they filed in to take their stations in one of the open booths. The last girl through the door took the final open booth to the left of Janet; it was the redhead with huge freckled breasts who was seeking to avoid life as a milk cow when her number hit ‘The Lottery’.

Janet could hear the attendants issuing a few instructions, but it sounded as if most of the new arrivals knew the drill. A sudden cupping of Janet’s breasts brought another fear-filled gasp from her mouth, and her attention back to the world on the other side of her booth window. It was the fine-featured blonde who had slighted her earlier. Tears welled in Janet’s eyes, as the thought of how unjust it would be to lose her mammaries to the one stranger in this century that had insulted her went through her mind.

The blonde grinned into her window as she fondled Janet’s bosom for a few seconds and then whispered, “Just teasing. As you heard, it is freckles I want and she’s…” The woman removed her hands from Janet’s chest, stepped abruptly to Janet’s left, and finished her sentence with, “…right here!”

“Oww…pull any harder and you’re going to rip my nipples right off, bitch!” exclaimed the woman in the booth adjacent to Janet. By twisting her head to the left and leaning her temple against the glass of her one-way window, Janet could just see then end of the redhead’s distorted nipples, trapped between the blonde’s thumbs and forefingers as she pulled hard on the large breasts.

“Even if I hadn’t kept track of the order you entered the room, I would have been able to pick your huge knockers out of this lineup,” the blonde bragged with a wide grin on her face and a mean look in her blue eyes. “I told you I was going to pick you babe, and here I am. This bacon belongs to Tammy McGreevy, and I’ll have these boobs free of your chest in…, ummm, let’s see…what options did you set? Oh, I love it…snippers, and set on dead slow. God, this is going to be a treat!”

“I’m glad YOU’RE happy!” the redhead spat. “Get on with it, if you’re going to do me. Otherwise step aside and let someone else do the dirty work!”

“Fuck yes, I will do you,” the blonde, evidently named Tammy McGreevy, retorted, “as soon as I check your de-clit options. Shit! No joy there!”

“I’m letting you kill my milk bags, not my sex life, bitch,” the redhead retorted, “I may not have my number pulled in ‘The Lottery’ for some time to come.”

Then, Janet heard a click, and knew it was a debreast button being pushed, as the blonde angrily declared, “Your meat is mine, freckles!” This was followed by a series of mechanical sounds.

If Janet could have seen into the adjacent booth, she would have watched short, metal arms rotate from a vertical positions in the upper and lower left-hand corners of the booth, to horizontal positions. Then she would have watched the wide, sharp, 3-foot-long blades unfold from above or below the rods, and the rods then rise and lower so that the edges of the blades were exactly one foot from the top and bottom surfaces of the redhead’s breasts. She couldn’t see this happen, but from the gulps coming from the adjacent booth, she could tell the redhead could see her fate unfolding. What Janet could see was a crowd gathering. Evidently, snippers were not often chosen as a debreasting method. All eyes were locked on the huge freckled orbs. Janet’s guessed her own breasts might be safe until the redhead’s were in Tammy’s possession.

Meanwhile, at the table in the other room, Janet’s fellow heroines were also trying to understand what was going on. Fortunately, Aimee had just brought over the Lactic Blaster refills. “Aimee, what is going on?” Wanda implored. “I heard the blonde say the debreasting method was something called snippers, and we heard mechanical sounds of something being positioned, but as far as we can tell, nothing is happening.”

“Well, Miss,” Aimee responded in her ever polite fashion as she carefully distributed the four glasses, “two wide cutting blades have been deployed in the inside of the booth, one edge upwards under the girl’s breasts, and one edge downwards over the girl’s breasts. The horizontal blades raise and lower towards each other. They are doing this slowly now, but you won’t see anything until they reach the debreasting ports, because they are on the other side of the wall. This double-cut method is rarely chosen, but the girl will be rewarded with a double-strength orgasmatron treatment.”

“Thanks, Aimee,” said Sue, “you are a treasure. More than half-way through your stint as a potential menu item aren’t you?”

“Yes, Miss,” Aimee answered softly, “but let’s not talk about that; it’s bad luck. Speaking of bad luck, your friend is in booth 4, right?” Wanda smiled; they now knew the booths were numbered, with the numbers getting higher with distance from ‘The Wall’ door.

“Yes…yes she is,” answered Bonita. “One lady showed interest in her donation, but that was several minutes ago.”

“I thought so,” said Aimee, “if she is playing the game with the hope of getting her bacon poached, she may be out of luck for this turn. If I heard right, the snippers are set on their slowest setting. Once they reach the girl’s breasts, they will barely crawl through her meat, and I doubt anyone else is going to be harvested while a double-cut is in progress. I’m sorry for her bad luck. I’ll check back…unless I get purchased.” Aimee smiled sheepishly and walked away.

Wanda took a sip from her refilled Blaster and chortled, “Darn, we may be pretty drunk by the time we get out of here, the way things are going.”

“Yes, your right,” agreed Sue. “I imagine that right now Janet is pretty frustrated. She wanted to be the first, as usual, to accomplish our mission.”

“Jeese, the smell in this place is driving me crazy,” growled Bonita, “and yes I know it is coming from thinly sliced human breasts being cooked. It’s making me hungry, so why don’t I go down and hit Janet’s button. That way we all get fed…vegetarian…and we reach the quarter-way-done point on our mission at the same time.”

“No, Bonita,” Wanda replied tersely, assuming Bonita was serious in her suggestion, “we stick with the agreement. If you do Janet, she will most certainly do me, and I don’t want to hear her bragging about the day she busted my tits for the rest of my career.” This brought laughter from all three heroines.

Down in booth 4, unbeknownst to her fellow heroines, Janet was actually relieved that she seemed to be safe for the moment. She watched the crowd fill the dance floor outside her window with interest, and listened to the rapid breaths coming from the redhead; freckles was obviously terrified. At least Tammy had stopped tormenting her with words as she waited for the physical torment to begin. Suddenly there was a gasp from freckles. Janet guessed this indicated the snippers had reached her tits; this was suddenly followed by moans of pleasure. Janet assumed this meant the orgasmatron beam in the redhead’s booth had been activated. She strained to see what was happening by pressing her temple against her window. She could see Tammy’s arms moving; she was probably caressing the breasts that would soon be hers. Right now Janet was frustrated. Time wasn’t moving fast enough; she wanted to be where she could see the action.

Outside, at the table, the other heroines were also frustrated. They also could hear the gasp followed by the moans, moans that got louder and spoke of pain and terror as well as pleasure. Finally, Sue shrilled, “There, on the topside of her breasts, a glint of steel and a trace of red, probably blood. The lower blade is probably hidden under the droop of her boobs.”

“Yes, your right, Sue,” replied Wanda. “Oh my heck, those blades are closing at an imperceptible rate. Janet only has two minutes left. She is going to be done and out of her booth before the debreasting of that girl is completed!”

“She must be crazy to allow herself to be in that much pain for such a long time,” noted a frowning Bonita, nodding toward the girl who would soon be flat-chested.

“Aimee said this method brought a higher orgasmatron setting, Bonita,” offered Sue. “Maybe that is what she was looking for.”

“Yes,” agreed Wanda, “and also keep in mind that the sensation of pain and pleasure are carried over the same circuit board, the nervous system, and there comes a point where you really can’t tell one from the other. At that point, what really matters is the fear that is brought by the realization of what is happening. If you can conquer that fear with the knowledge that, what is happening, is what you came here to make happen, I don’t think this experience will be that terrible.”

Bonita shook her head and laughed. “Janet was right! We really are sex whores and pain sluts!” This brought another round of laughter at the table, as the heroines continued to track the extremely slow progress of the double blades at booth 5.

Inside booth 4, Janet stared outside her window watching the faces on the dance floor stare at the booth next to her with fascination, trepidation, glee, and horror. She listened to the redhead’s moans, trying to determine if the moans came from pleasure and the relief of avoiding her fate as a milk cow, or if the moans meant she felt pain, fear, and remorse. She tried hard to glean what the redhead felt from the texture of her moans, but knew she really wouldn’t understand until her own debreast button had finally been pushed.

Suddenly Janet’s eyes widened in surprise, and she heard her own moans as the orgasmatron beam in her booth activated because she had reached the final minute of her game; her moans of pure pleasure joined the sound of mixed emotions being sung in the booth next to her. This chorus seemed to last an eternity, until suddenly Janet was brought to climax, and, after three raspy sighs, she stumbled backwards out of the booth as her restraints were released.

Janet moved rapidly to the exit door, quickly put on her bottoms and picked up her top, and raced to the dance floor so she could get a close look at what was happening. This time ‘The Wall’ door remained open; people were too busy watching the double-cut debreasting to think about playing the game themselves. When Janet finally stood near booth 5, she could see the closing blades; they were still only 70 percent of the way through the redhead’s flesh, and rivulets of blood coated the lower blade. Tammy was busy kissing and caressing that which would soon be hers. This seemed to go on forever, until finally the blades closed, and, accompanied by loud, passionate cries of orgasmic pleasure, freckle’s breasts came free to pull downward on Tammy’s arms. Janet moaned as another climax washed through her own sex; she knew she had to play the game again!

Chapter 4. Postmortem

“Look, girls,” Tammy yelled to the middle of the room, “Tammy has lunch, just as she said she would. The bacon sandwiches will be there shortly.” Tammy looked back to booth 5, intending to gloat at freckles, but the girl had already been pulled out of the booth to be bandaged up so she could rejoin her friends. Tammy frowned, but the frown turned to a broad smile when she spotted bare-breasted Janet just a few feet away. “Hey, babe, those perky tits of yours may not feed many mouths,” Tammy chided, “but if you put them back through the debreasting portals, I’ll be glad to poach them for you! Next time, be sure to pick a slow and painful method of destruction…or better yet, leave the choice to me. You’re not going to lose those perky puppies to a guillotine blade unless you beg for one of your friends to do them. Laters!” Janet seethed with anger as she watched Tammy sprint over to one of the food ordering stations at the bar, and deposit her newly won bacon. The young heroine was filled with a desire to make the big breasted blonde pay for her disrespect. However, she knew she wouldn’t make herself feel any better if she remained standing where she was, so she made her way back to the table where her friends were waiting.

As Janet sat down, still carrying rather than wearing her bikini top, she noted that there were now two glasses on her side of the table. She quickly finished what remained of her first Lactic Blaster, and then picked up the full glass before addressing her friends, “Yes…I know…I didn’t get them popped, but, good lord, that was one hell of an experience!”

“Do tell, Janet,” Sue implored excitedly, “I want to hear every detail. What was it like when that chubby brunette began fondling your moneymakers. Were you excited or scared?”

“I was terrified,” Janet admitted in a soft, shame-filled voice. “From the moment I saw her reaching towards my mammaries, I was desperate to get my tits out of those debreasting portals…out of harm’s way…in spite of the fact that losing my boobs was my sole intention when I entered that door to ‘The Wall’. The fear never left me…not even when the orgasmatron beam…started delivering delightful pleasure. But, strangely, when I was out on the dance floor, and her rack,” Janet nodded towards the redhead who, wearing circular bandages and red bicycle shorts, had just stepped through ‘The Wall’ door to receive what was obviously adulation from everyone around her, “came free, I wanted nothing more than to be back in that booth. If that blonde bitch hadn’t pissed me off, I might be back in there now!”

“What about the orgasmatron beam?” asked Bonita, her brown eyes flashing with interest. “From sound of your moans, I would have to guess the feeling it generates must be very pleasurable. I’ve never had one used on me before.”

“Yes, it was most pleasurable,” chortled Janet, “even though the dose I got was the lowest intensity setting. If I wasn’t the sex slut I am, I probably wouldn’t have reached climax. As Wanda indicated earlier, the intensity is linked to the pain you risk having inflicted upon you. I chose the guillotine blade; a quick way to have your puppies knocked off. I’ll rethink that strategy the next time I enter the booth, in spite of the fact that I will likely be just as terrified as this time.”

“If you were so afraid, why didn’t you just shrink to insect size and fly out one of the debreasting portals?” asked Wanda teasingly. “Or did you consider it, but realized that doing so would likely land all of us on the back of a Jessica machine?”

“Well, now that you mention it, Wanda,” Janet replied softly, “I’m surprised that I didn’t instinctively use my super abilities when the brunette asked if I wanted my bosom turned into bacon. The question didn’t occur to me until now. I could have got us all killed!”

“Hang on a minute!” Sue exclaimed. Her fellow heroines watched as she slowly slid her right hand under that table so that she was likely the only one who could see it. Then she appeared to concentrate. A few seconds later, she reached up, picked up her glass, and took a long drink of Lactic Blaster. “Uhh…girls,” Sue began in a quivering voice, “I couldn’t make my hand turn invisible. I think this entire building is surrounded by an energy field that nullifies super abilities. We’re just ordinary women, and as vulnerable to harm as anyone else. There isn’t any changing our minds once we get strapped into one of those booths!”

“Great!” Bonita spat. “We’re in a world where women get eaten, and we can’t even defend ourselves!”

“Actually, that is great,” replied Wanda, “given what we came here to do. We are safer without abilities that could expose us for what we are. Janet, what other methods of bosom destruction are available in those booths? I didn’t know about the snippers option, obviously. Also, which ones bring the biggest orgasmatron rewards? I’d like to get the biggest bang for my buck…or rather boobs!”

Janet laughed, before replying, “Now you’re being mean because I picked the guillotine blade, which has the lowest reward. Let’s see, in addition to what has already been mentioned, I saw knife, scissors, masher, slicer, blenders, and broilers options, all with fairly high beam settings. According to the computer screen, the snippers, knife, and scissors options had the second highest beam setting, right after the razor-wire loops, slicer, blenders, and broilers options. Some of the options can be set to do one breast at a time, which doubles the length of the experience, and increases the beam settings. The beam settings go way up when you use the dead slow speed. You can also get the orgasmatron setting to its highest level with most of the methods if you set ‘de-clit option yes’ or if you allow secondary controls to have full override, meaning the person on this side of the wall is in full control of your fate.”

“De-clit option?” Sue gasped. “What the heck are you talking about?”

“They have a force-field version of a declitting tube installed in each of the booths,” Janet replied, enjoying the obvious horror on Sue’s face. “It gradually drags your little warrior out of its burrow, a laser lops it off, and your sex life slides down an inclined ramp to this side of the room. Given this centuries cannibalistic tendencies, you can guess what happens next.”

“Declitting tube?” Bonita asked in a quaking voice. “There is such a thing?”

“It is a device that was invented near the beginning of the 21^th Century to be used in female circumcision rituals practiced in the Middle East,” answered Wanda, “and with good intentions I might add. It is a bloodless way to perform a clitoridectomy, and was meant to reduce the infection and unintended injuries that often accompanied the traditional methods. Janet explained well enough how it works. Unfortunately, the devices are sold on the black market in many countries, including the U.S. Sooner or later, every heroine will have had her clit stretched at least once during her career; you just have to hope the villain that does it to you doesn’t activate the lasers. Yes, we could now get our organ restored using the Chula nanogene tissue regenerator, but because the new nerve bundles are very sensitive, I suspect villains wouldn’t have to work very hard to get their precious forced orgasms out of us if we get captured afterwards.” Wanda took a long drink of her Blaster, before whispering, “I’ll be using ‘de-clit option no’!”

“Hey,” Janet exclaimed, “it looks like that tall black-haired girl with the pixie cut has found a set she likes, even though they are a bit petite. Too bad for the girl in the booth, if I’m right, she only has a minute and a half of booth time left.” As the other three heroines directed their eyes to the dance floor, they could see Janet was right. The tall girl hit the debreast button and then turned towards the kitchen, and called out, “Hey, she selected knife…I need a little help here!”

The heroines watched as Aimee, still with her fillet on display, raced out of the kitchen area to deliver a serrated steak knife to the girl who was about to accept the donation from the volunteer in the booth. “Here you go, Miss,” Aimee said in her usual amiable tone. “Just return the knife when you drop off the bacon.”

The black-haired girl, who sported nice-sized swooping breasts that were not covered with clothing, nodded, and then returned her attention to the breasts before her; the volunteer behind the wall was now moaning in obvious pleasure. The tall girl gently kissed and rubbed the two smallish orbs of flesh before her for a few seconds before placing the serrated edge of the knife blade to the base of the donator’s right breast. Three rapid gasps from within the booth gave evidence that the volunteer had already experienced her first climax. Then she returned to moans that spoke of both pleasure and fear. The tall girl quickly dragged the knife point around the full circumference of the base of the perky right breast; a thin line of red was the evidence telling that the skin had been broken. The girl in the booth screamed once in pain and then returned to the orgasmatron-induced moans. The dark-haired girl then circled, more slowly, the base of the girl’s left breast with the knife point, and was rewarded with another thin line of blood and scream of pain from the donator.

“Should I skin them before I saw them off you?” the knife-wielding debreaster asked, loud enough for much of the room to hear. This produced another series of rapid gasps indicating another orgasm.

“NO…no…please,” the girl in the booth pleaded, “don’t…do me…that way. I watched you…skin…Shelly’s…tits…two nights ago. I wouldn’t last…I’ll pass out!”

“You saw that, and still selected knife as your option?” the tall girl asked, sounding a bit confused.

“Yes…I saw you…here on the dance floor…before I…went through…the door,” the girl said, struggling to maintain her composure while in obvious terror. “I knew…you…would…debreast me…even though…I’m so…”

“Small?” the knife wielder asked, finishing the girl’s sentence. “You’re right, they are small, and not worth the effort that goes into skinning!” The black-haired girl then grabbed the nipple of the right breast before her with her left thumb and forefinger and pulled upwards before placing the serrated edge of the knife blade against the base of the orb. Another gasp of climax quickly changed to screams of pain as the knife began sawing slowly upward into the mammary, blood now beginning to trickle downward from the debreasting portal. The screams didn’t stop until, ten seconds later, the breast came free of the donator’s flesh as the blade exited the top of the tit.

The knife wielder turned and handed the severed bacon to a brunette standing behind her, saying softly, “Be a dear and hold this for me for a minute, won’t you.” She watched the brunette nod and then turned her attention back to the girl on the other side of the wall. “What say I leave the other one as is?” she suggested acrimoniously. “That way, beam junkie, you will have a reason to play the game again!”

The donator rewarded her tormentor with another gasping orgasm before she pleaded, “No…please…finish me. No one would accept just one breast!”

“Fine…have it your way,” the black-haired girl spat. She grabbed the girl’s left nipple and roughly tugged upward, inducing a moan of both pleasure and pain. Then she placed the blade against the underside of the girls remaining boob and began slowly sawing upward. She was rewarded with a scream, a scream that didn’t end until the knife had finished its cruel work. As the final orb of bacon came free, the girl in the booth moaned loudly in climax before being pulled out of the booth to be bandaged.

“Holy shit,” Bonita exclaimed, the first words spoken at the heroines’ table since Aimee brought out the knife. “I haven’t decided which option I’m going to pick when it is my turn, but it is definitely not going to be that one!” Her horror-filled eyes watched the tall girl take the severed breast back from the brunette behind her, and then walk quickly over to the food ordering station where she deposited the small set of bacon and returned the borrowed knife. Meanwhile, the clean-up crew went back to work.

A few minutes later, the door to ‘The Wall’ opened up, and an oriental girl, the one who had performed the first debreasting of the night, put on her yellow bottoms and exited the room sporting the usual circular bandages, and seemingly in a very good mood. Before the door could close, Mr. Jennings, the owner of the establishment, also exited the room and walked back to a table in the middle of the room where he began to engage in what appeared to be an animated conversation.

“Hey,” Janet spat, “he’s talking to that bitch, Tammy. What’s up with that?” The four heroines watched with interest as the tall blonde pulled a small, thin piece of plastic out of her back pocket and handed it to the owner. The man then walked quickly over the kitchen, waited while one of the order takers swiped the plastic through a small machine, and then waved at someone in the kitchen.

Seconds later, Aimee exited the kitchen with a frown on her face, and followed the owner over to Tammy’s table. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Sue said softly. “She seems to be poking and prodding Aimee. Oh my God! Now she is inspecting Aimee’s sex.”

The heroines watched as Mr. Jennings handed the small piece of plastic back to Tammy, and walked back to the kitchen, leaving Aimee standing near Tammy’s table. They watched as he spoke to another waitress standing behind the bar, a tall, well-built girl with short black hair, and continued to watch as this girl then removed her tight black shorts with the ‘Final Fantasy’ label and looked out to the area of tables Aimee had been attending. Wanda waved for the girl to come over to their table, draining her glass of Lactic Blaster so she would have an excuse to put in an order.

As the girl started towards them, Janet gasped loudly, “Oh, no! I think Aimee’s been purchased! Tammy has her by the arm and is leading her towards one of the Jessica’s!”

Wanda turned to the waitress who had just arrived, “Is it true, Miss…err…what is your name? Did our waitress get purchased?” The heroines all fought not to stare at the girl’s huge, perfectly shaped breasts; this one was a Wonder Woman clone! “I’m Wanda, and this is Sue, Janet, and Bonita,” the auburn-haired heroine said, nodding to each of her friends as she mentioned their name.

“My name is Sharon, and, yes, Miss Wanda, she did get purchased,” the waitress answered. “From Aimee’s point of view, the timing really blows too. She only had five more minutes of her shift left. I can’t complain too much, though, as you can see from my lack of shorts, I was the next waitress scheduled to go on spit muffin duty. Now I’ll pull an extra five minutes of shift, and wait a few more tables until Aimee’s replacement gets here, but I at least have a chance at going home at the end of the night. If Tammy pulls her usual stunt, though, I may end up leaving fifteen to twenty pounds lighter!”

“Is there anything we can, or should, do for Aimee?” Sue asked with sorrow in her voice. She couldn’t help but think she had jinxed the girl with her question earlier.

“Well, Sue” the waitress answered sweetly, “Aimee is providing her final service for those of us that enjoy this establishment through her sacrifice. If you care for Aimee, you can show your respect for her by standing where she can see you as she gets spitted. Now, speaking of service, can I get you something?”

“Another round of Lactic Blasters, please,” Wanda answered softly.

“Sure thing,” said the waitress. “They will be waiting on your table when you get back from watching Aimee take her final ride on Jessica.” The waitress quickly started walking back towards the kitchen.

Janet jumped quickly up and raced after Sharon, catching up with her about half-way to the bar. “Excuse me, Sharon, can I talk to you for a moment?” Janet quickly asked.

“Sure, Janet” Sharon answered, “what about.”

“That bitch, Tammy!” Janet growled, “What did you mean about her usual stunt?”

“I really shouldn’t say too much,” Sharon whispered, “but, well, we all really adored Aimee, and now she is a sow and about to become meat. So I’ll give you the low-down. Tammy must be rich, and is probably papered. Every time she comes in, she poaches some bacon, to get her fill with a sandwich. Then a short-time later, she either talks someone onto a Jessica, catches someone leaving the room before they get their shorts back on and pays for their fillet, or does what she did tonight…turns a waitress into meat by paying for HER fillet. She doesn’t do this for the meat, she does it because she’s hooked on the beam, but plays the game smart.”

“What do you mean when you say she plays the game smart?” asked Janet. “I heard her brag about that to the redhead, before she popped the girl’s big balloons earlier tonight”

“Look…I really can’t say,” Sharon pleaded, “I would lose my job if the owner found out, and end up strapped to a Jessica if Tammy found out. Just remember, Aimee on the Jessica is going to be a show that no one will miss. Hell…the booths are all already empty, so you, or someone else, could order me to take a turn in the game. When they carry Aimee out to the pit, everyone will follow to watch her squirm as she roasts. If Tammy disappears during the roasting…well just remember that these Grade A’s,” the waitress cupped her huge breasts in the palms of her hands, “will be the tits in booth 1 waiting to get poached, and the fairer-skinned boobs in the other booth won’t.” Sharon turned and quickly walked away. Janet quickly returned to her friends.

“What was that all about, Janet?” Sue asked after Janet had put her top on and sat down.

“I’m not sure,” Janet replied softly, and then drained her Blaster, “but if I say follow me when we are in the pit area…well…follow me.”

“Well, from what Sharon told us, it sounds like we are supposed to go watch,” Bonita said nodding toward the west wall where Tammy had taken Aimee. “I wanted to see how the machine works anyhow.” She turned and walked towards the cluster of women that was gradually growing in numbers. After a brief exchange of glances, Janet, Sue, and Wanda followed.

Chapter 5. Aimee’s Wild Ride

When the heroines reached the cluster of women, they pushed forward through the crowd so that they were standing near the front of the Jessica Aimee was standing beside. Tammy was busy tying Aimee’s hands behind her back, and when she finished, she chided, “You’re about ready for the coals, sow!”

“Yes, Miss,” Aimee replied, looking a little pale, “do you want me to mount the machine now?”

“No, sow,” Tammy snapped, “wait for the rest of the room to take their viewing positions. You’ll roast soon enough!”

Wanda turned to her friends, and whispered, “I’ll explain things the best I can as the events unfold. I can’t believe how calm Aimee is!” The four heroines stood staring at the Jessica machine.

Minutes later, Tammy decided she had her audience, and commanded, “Kneel, sow!”

“Yes, Miss,” Aimee replied.

The Jessica machine before the girl, who stood quivering in obvious terror, was elevated to about knee level above a rectangular stand by two metal rods that supported a long, narrow rectangular plank. At the front of the plank was a roughly triangular-shaped post which had a narrow, curved pad atop it, and a 16 inch-long, narrow, leather-covered rectangle extending upward at an angle on the wall side of the triangular post. A little less than halfway back on the central plank was a short rod that supported another curved pad that was wider and lower than the first; another, longer, narrow, leather-covered rectangle extended upward at angle toward the wall side of the machine from the rod below this curved pad. Slightly further back two horizontal rods supported roughly rectangular shaped horizontal planks on either side of the central plank; these planks extended in length from position of the short rod supporting the wider curved pad to the back of the machine. Each of these outer planks had, what was obviously knee pads at their forward end, behind which rose two vertical, narrow, leather-covered rectangles, one just behind the knee pads, and another, shorter one about two thirds of the way back. Finally, at the very end of the central plank, a thicker short rod held a bullet-shaped device from which protruded the business end of a six-foot-long sharply pointed steel rod.

Aimee climbed carefully onto the Jessica 3000 to kneel on the outer planks, her knees positioned on the two knee pads. She didn’t say anything, she just knelt their quivering until Tammy commanded, “Lean forward, sow!”

“Y…ye…yes, Miss,” Aimee stammered, and slowly leaned forward, trying to maintain her balance. That wasn’t possible, however, and seconds later her body toppled forward. Aimee, let out a brief “eeeep!” which ended when her neck landed on the forward curved pad. Terror filled the girl’s eyes, as she tried to take all of the weight of her body using her neck as support, refusing to take advantage of the second curved pad below her slender waist.

This was obvious to everyone, including Tammy, who screamed angrily, “Lower your belly down to the waist cradle, sow! Do it now!”

“No, bitch!” roared Aimee back, catching everyone by surprise, especially Tammy. “If you want me converted to meat, you’ll have to force me into Jessica’s terrible caress. I’m not going to commit slow suicide!”

“Do it, sow,” shrilled Tammy, “or I’ll change the default setting on the spit propeller to dead slow!”

“I don’t care, bitch!” retorted Aimee. “You are not going to get my cooperation in this!”

“Fuck you, sow!” roared Tammy as she made an adjustment on the controls on the bullet-shaped device that held the six-foot-long steel shaft by its sharply pointed end. “Yes, fuck you with a one-and-a-half-inch-thick spit…that is what I’m going to do to you.” Tammy then roughly pulled Aimees bound wrists upward towards her shoulders before pressing down hard on the helpless girl’s back.

Aimee screamed in abject terror the minute she felt her belly hit the waist pad. She knew this would wake the sleeping Jessica. The machine immediately reacted to the presence of its prey, as the six, thin leather-padded rectangles snapped around the girl’s body, almost catching the hand Tammy had used to push the girl’s waist down with in the process. One strap tightened around the back of Aimee’s neck, another tightened around the back of her waist, two more tightened around her right and left upper calves, and the final two tightened around her right and left ankles. Its victim trapped into position and unable to move, the machines bullet-shaped spit propeller came to life with a click and a whir. Aimee screamed again, and then began sobbing softly.

“Just like I promised, girls,” Tammy chortled to the crowd, “Tammy McGreevy has provided the night’s best entertainment. Enjoy watching this babe get one last, cold-steel fuck! Then watch her do a horizontal pole dance. Don’t anybody say I never done anything for you!” Tammy high-fived a few of her friends, before returning her attention to the sharp metal crawling slowly towards Aimee’s sex.

“Poor, Aimee,” whispered Sue, “no one should have to go out this way!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Wanda whispered back.

“Shit…look how slowly that spear is moving,” Bonita exclaimed in a cracking voice.

“Yes,” agreed Sue, “I estimate the tip started put about 12 inches from the girls flesh.”

“Which means,” noted Wanda, “that we will have a way to estimate how long she is going to have to endure her impalement, after the sharp tip reaches its target.”

Janet said nothing, desperately trying not to shoot any glances towards Tammy. She bitterly hated the woman, but Janet did not want to make her aware of that fact. Not yet, anyhow!

Four minutes after the straps had snapped tight, Aimee’s soft sobs stopped as she issued a low, mournful moan. Tammy knew what the moan meant immediately, and jovially informed the entire room, “The spit tip just reached her lower lips! Who wants to wager their boobs that the sow won’t climax at least once before the tip exits the lips at her other end?” Tammy laughed gleefully when she got no takers.

Wanda, listened, noting that Aimee’s moans already had a desperate, sexual texture to them. She shook her head and whispered to her friends, “I’ll say one thing for Tammy…she sure knows the Jessica machine. When you feel that spit sliding past your labial lips, you can’t help but equate the experience with intercourse!”

“You agree with, Tamm…” Janet started and then choked off her words.

“You believe that spike entering her sex is going to force an orgasm from Aimee, Wanda?” Sue asked in disbelief. “Without an orgasmatron beam?”

“Yes,” Wanda answered and then waited. She didn’t have to wait long, for soon Aimee was sighing, gasping, and moaning, obviously awash with orgasmic pleasure. “Yes,” said Wanda again, “and now she probably won’t stop climaxing for, say, another two minutes.”

“Aimee’s having fun?” Bonita asked incredulously.

“No! Definitely not!” Wanda spat with obvious emotion. “She isn’t having fun, her body is just reacting…reacting the same as we heroines sometimes do during rape. We don’t enjoy the rape in progress, but we reach sexual climax anyhow.”

The moans and gasps and sighs did continue for about two minutes as Wanda predicted, before ending with a short, sharp scream, after which Aimee seemed to be gasping for breath. She seemed to be trying to fight something!

“What now?” Sue shrilled.

“She can feel the tip of the spit pressing against her cervix,” Wanda said with deep sadness evident in her voice. Then Aimee let out another short scream follow by soft mournful sobs. “Now the spit has penetrated into the cervix. There won’t be any more climaxes as the spit runs through her over the next, let’s see, twelve to twelve-and-a half minutes, the sensors within the spit causing the spit propeller to make ever so subtle changes in the steel’s course so that the damage to the girl will be minimized.”

As if she had heard Wanda, Tammy knelt down and looked directly into Aimee’s face, and said with false sweetness, “Oh, my little spit muffin, aren’t you going to cum for us again and again. Hearing your cries of pleasure as you’re slowly turned into meat are so, so entertaining.” Aimee didn’t answer her tormentor, but her remorseful moans intensified. “Oh, come on now, honey,” Tammy continued, “you can let that steel giving you your final fuck drag at least one more cum out of you, can’t you? Tell you what…you give Tammy just one more cum…and she’ll call the kitchen help over to set up the auto-gutter and disposal shoot. We’ll leave the vital organs like the heart and lungs in of course, but we get rid of those nasty intestines and make room for some stuffing. Now…if Tammy doesn’t get her cum, Aimee, I won’t let them gut you, and you’re going to live roast for a much longer period.”

“Go fuck yourself, bitch,” Aimee rasped weakly. “I hope you get your tits popped tonight!”

“Oh, my, Aimee,” Tammy declared scornfully, “you used to be such a polite little girl. Now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings! Someone turn the breast injectors on! I want this sow’s boobs filled to the bursting point with cooking oil and herbs. I want her to be able to hear the cooking oil boil as she gets turned over the coals!”

Suddenly a pair of one-foot long tubes rotated from horizontal positions on the Jessica’s rectangular stand, into vertical positions under Aimee’s dangling breasts. Then two, smaller tubes telescoped out of the basal tubes to get closer to the swaying targets. Finally, sharp injection needles began to rise from the telescoped tubes. As the needles neared Aimee, Tammy chortled, “Here…let me help you with those.” Then she used a hand on each swaying breast to adjust the orbs so that the needle entered the center of each downturned nipple. Aimee gave raspy gasp of surprise and pain when she felt the pricks on her breasts, and suddenly realized she now had three sharpened rods being pushed into her flesh.

“Damn,” exclaimed Bonita, “they have this down to a fine art, don’t they!”

“Yes, Bonita, I suppose they do,” Wanda softly replied, looking with concern at the fascination she could see in the Latino’s eyes.

Sue could see it too. She whispered, “I think maybe we should get out of here. I don’t think we should go through with our plan. My boobies are fine the way they are. Let’s go home!”

Wanda looked stunned as she turned to her blonde friend and said softly, her voice filled with concern, “Oh! No! Sue…if you feel that way…then I made a big mistake when I ordered those Lactic Blasters! Janet is the only one of us that can try to leave this establishment at this point without getting the same treatment as Aimee.”

“What? Why?” Sue asked frantically. “Why can she leave but we can’t.”

“Don’t you remember what Aimee said when she explained the rules on how things work here?” Wanda asked with concern filling her face. “They keep a tab at the bar tracking how many drinks we’ve been served. They expect you to pay at the end of the night…unless you walk through ‘The Wall’ door and play the game at least once…which Janet has done…and because of where we come from…we don’t have any credits to pay the tab with…and these people do not tolerate thieves!”

Sue looked down at Aimee, who was moaning louder now because she could feel her breasts bulging as they were filled with the liquid from the container in the floor under the Jessica, and because she could tell that the spit was making good progress, now carefully traversing through her chest cavity. Sue then looked around at the other customers and establishment staff. Their eyes were all filled with excitement and fascination, and locked on the girl who was being impaled.

“Okay,” Sue said thoughtfully, “what say we all move out to the dance floor. If I’m right, everyone is over here watching this…except, evidently, Sharon. You, Bonita, and I could slip through the ‘The Wall’ door, into those booths, and have our game played and over with before anyone notices and decides to hit our debreast buttons!”

Janet, who had been listening to the conversation with a frown on her face, sharply spat, “No! We all stay here…and then follow the crowd out to the pits…were we stay…unless I tell you what I said I might tell you in the other room…and no, do not repeat what I said to see if you know what I am talking about.” She stared hard at each of her friends for a moment, to make sure they knew she was serious, and then she said in a more jovial tone, “Besides…if you put me anywhere near those debreast buttons while your puppies are sticking through the debreasting portals…I doubt I’ll be able to resist popping all three sets of moneymakers just for the fun of it!”

“You know, Janet,” Wanda whispered with a broad smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes, “I think you just told a small fib. I don’t think you would even try to resist the temptation; I think you would jump at the chance to bust all three of our busts.” This brought laughter from both Janet and Sue.

Bonita interrupted the laughter by exclaiming, “Aimee’s throat is swelling! I think the spit has entered her esophagus or something, and look, the breast needles are retracting.” Bonita’s three friends were once again filled with concern over her evident fascination with Jessica and the spitting, but they did turn their attention to Aimee.

“Yes, your right, Bonita,” Wanda agreed. “This part of Aimee’s ordeal is almost over, as is her period of being deemed a sow!”

Seconds later, Aimee’s mouth began to be slowly wedged open, and soon Tammy cried, “I can see the tip of the spit! You’re meat now, Aimee. Don’t get anxious about getting over the hot pit outside just yet, meat. It will be another several minutes before there is enough spit on this end of your carcass to carry you by. Then I’ll truss your legs over the other end of the spit, and stick an anal stabilizer into your ass and secure it to the back of the spit. Then it will be time for you to do the horizontal pole dance!”

Sure enough, over the next few seconds, Aimee’s moaning mouth was forced wider and wider, and Aimee stared cross-eyed at the blood streaked weapon she could see more and more of in front of her pain-filled face, until the rod between Aimee’s teeth was at full circumference. Minutes later, the spit propeller was finally turned off, and Aimee legs were indeed tied. She grunted in pain when Tammy jammed the point of the anal stabilizer into her anus and then secured it to the spit, but no one from her century felt sorry for her. You didn’t feel sorry for meat. Then she was finally being carried by one woman at each end of her spit through the door with the words ‘Barbecue Pits’ over it.

The heroines followed the precession, but Janet kept them at the back of the pack. When they got in the pit area, Janet directed the girls away from the door, but to the back of the crowd. Even Bonita, who was curious and would have liked to get closer to see what was happening to Aimee, could tell Janet was going to keep her friends near her at all cost. Janet’s three friends were curious about why Janet kept glancing back to the door, but tried to keep their own attention on Aimee’s writhing form as she cooked slowly over the hot coal-filled pit as she underwent her new, and final, ordeal; the fact that the aroma wafting towards them caused their mouths to water, made them extremely uncomfortable. Then Janet spotted Tammy’s red-hearted white shorts as the woman was backing her way out of the crowd. Janet twisted her head to the other direction, so that if Tammy turned her way she would see the back of Janet’s head. Janet heard the door open and close once.

Two minutes later, Janet commanded, “Follow me…now…quietly…at without attracting any attention.” Her three friends looked confused, but followed her to the door, which Janet had opened, but just to a crack. Janet peered through the crack. She felt lucky; she could see ‘The Wall’ door. Seconds later, she watched Sharon go through the door with no clothes to drop; likely an unwilling participant in the game rather than a volunteer eager to make a donation, or someone seeking the thrill that came with the risk of losing or the pleasure from an orgasmatron beam. Janet waited. Another minute passed. Finally, Tammy came into view, opened the door, and disrobed, dropping her clothes where she stood. Then Janet gasped, for as Tammy began walking toward the booths, the back of her foot encountered her shorts, with just barely enough force to slide them to the bar side of the slowly closing door to ‘The Wall’.

“Come on girls,” Janet whispered, the excitement she felt evident to her friends. “I’m hungry! It’s time to play the game from the kitchen side of the wall so that we can trade for vegetarian.” Janet raced through the door and her friends quickly followed.

To be continued.

---

Sanctum Main Page Scarlet's Story Page Next Story