A Day at the Dairy

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, and Invisible Woman (Marvel Enterprises) and Zatanna (DC Comics) are Trademarked characters used in this not-for-profit fan-fiction; no Trademark infringement is intended. Background material on how the 41^st Century came to be the way it is in this story, and how our 21^st Century heroines learned of and began visiting this future time is presented in Chapter 1 of “Girls’ Night Out” and Chapter 1 of “Club X:Girls’ Night Out.”

Chapter 1. Departure and Arrival

Janet Van Dyne glanced surreptitiously at Wanda Maximoff, beside her in the back seat of the taxi that had just left the Avengers’ compound in uptown New York City, on their way to the Baxter Building in the downtown business district. She shook her short auburn locks and smiled. Her buxom friend, better known to the world as the hex-casting Scarlet Witch, seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood considering her previously stated reluctance to participate in the heroines’ upcoming day at the dairy—the Final Fantasy dairy in the 41^st Century to be precise. Like herself, Wanda was wearing a grey raincoat over her bikini; Wanda’s bikini was rose colored while Janet’s was dark blue. The raincoats were pre-planned accessories, but as luck would have it this June morning was grey and warned of possible precipitation, so the coats didn’t look out of place.

Wanda locked her gold-flecked blue eyes with Janet’s baby blues and whispered softly, “Stop worrying about me, Janet. I promise to try to have fun and not be a wet blanket!” The 5-foot-7-inch 130-pound twenty-one-year-old with long auburn hair grinned at her shorter, older, and less buxom friend. “While I’m not looking forward to the work, I am looking forward to seeing Bill Jennings again. Also, Bill did promise that there would be plenty of entertainment to help pass the time.”

The 5-foot-4-inch twenty-seven-year-old giggled and quipped, “Yes, and the entertainment is likely to be right in line with your current interests too, Wanda! However, I am also looking forward to seeing Bill. I hope the loss of his wife Marge hasn’t been too hard for him to cope with.” The ever spunky heroine looked thoughtful for a moment before breaking out in a broad grin. “I will stop worrying about you, Wanda,” Janet whispered excitedly. “It’s me you should be worrying about. I have to put my perky C-cups on display in the midst of three other girls sporting massive D-cups!”

Wanda roared in laughter at the heroine beside her, whose code-name was the Wasp and powers included the ability to shrink to insect size, before whispering, “You know that size doesn’t matter at a dairy, Janet. It’s all about taste and volume. Besides, I bet you will be so busy daydreaming about Friday afternoon that you won’t have time to fret about bust size!”

“You’re darn right about that, Wanda!” Janet chirped loudly. Then she lowered her voice to whisper, “It’s not every day that a girl gets to, hopefully temporarily, turn her husband into a eunuch before letting him tag along on another of our girls’ nights out!”

Wanda laughed loudly and spat, “Janet, you are one wild and wicked lady! Well, we’re here! Zatanna should have already teleported in from the Justice League satellite, so the sooner we take the elevator to the top floor, the sooner we can depart for our temporary jobs.” Wanda nodded to the entranceway to the tall skyscraper that was the Baxter Building, headquarters of the Fantastic Four.

As Wanda jumped out of the taxi and headed for the door, Janet quickly paid the driver. Then she raced after her friend, catching up with her at the elevator. Seconds later the two Avengers were on their way up to meet up with their fellow heroines and their transportation to the future.

The departure from the time machine bay on the top floor of the Baxter Building had gone fairly smoothly. The only minor glitch had been Sue’s husband, Reed, showing up at the bay just as the heroines were climbing into the car-like vehicle. He had, quite naturally, asked his wife where she was going with the unique machine. Sue had quickly handled the situation by admitting the girls were journeying into the future to meet up with friends, saying that this wasn’t their first such journey, and pointing out that Reed may have noted an improvement in his sex life following Sue’s return from the previous journeys. With a silly look on his face, Reed had told the girls to have fun and walked away. Sue had then quickly entered the coordinates Bill Jennings had given her on their previous visit to the future into the time machine’s navigational computer, and hit the dematerialization switch.

Seconds later, the time machine materialized in an empty room that was only slightly larger than the time machine itself. The four girls quickly exited the machine and removed their raincoats and footwear, tossing the unneeded clothing into the still open machine.

“For a minute, I thought we’d been busted, and weren’t going to have our little field trip to a 41^st Century dairy,” whispered Sue Richards, the sky-blue-bikini-clad blonde with blue eyes and shoulder-length hair. The 5-foot-6-inch-tall 120-pound twenty-six-year-old beauty grinned sheepishly, and chirped, “My husband can be pretty possessive when it comes to the Fantastic Four’s various vehicles, and that is especially true of this time machine that we confiscated from that despot from the future, Kang the Conqueror.”

The twenty-four-year-old Justice Leaguer, Zatanna Zatara, giggled and pointed out the obvious, “It looked like the Invisible Woman had her stretchable husband, Mr. Fantastic, well in hand, Sue. When you brought up sex…well those unstable molecules the Fantastic Four’s costumes are made out of don’t do too well at hiding erections.” The 5-foot-7-inch 137-pound magic wielder, with long black hair and blue eyes, was dressed in a black bikini. She laughed at Sue’s reddening face before continuing to wind the blonde up. “I bet Reed’s ability to expand and lengthen that particular body part is his most important power!”

“Just ignore Zatanna, Sue” Wanda interjected with a laugh in her voice, “she’s probably just jealous of your sex life! Besides, if we don’t get moving we will be late for our work shift, not that I’m in a hurry to get hooked up to a milking machine. Look, there is a combination lock on the door with a note attached to it. Who wants to bet that the combination to the lock is not what is written on the note?”

Janet, who was closest to the door, snatched the note off the lock and read out loud, “All of you should memorize…44 right, 12 left, 27 right…and then destroy the note. Remove lock and use it to secure the door from the outside of the room when you leave. Bill.” Janet handed the note to Zatanna, and then quickly dialed the combination and removed the lock from the inside of the unlatched door. “Well, I guess Bill doesn’t want to anyone to find out that we’ve broken this society’s law against time traveling, possibly making him an accessory to that crime,” Janet said softly nodding to the note in Zatanna’s right hand. “As there is a city-wide energy field that inhibits the use of metahuman powers, it’s up to you get rid of that evidence that could be used to implicate Bill if we ever get discovered, Zatanna.”

“Right, the neural-inhibitor field doesn’t prevent the use of arcane spells,” Zatanna replied nodding, “although, if I weren’t here, one of you could just eat the paper. Repap nrub.” The raven-tressed heroine’s backwards spoken incantation having been cast, the note burst aflame. The note, dropped by Zatanna, was ashes before it reached the floor of the room.

Wanda grinned and chortled, “I really need to work on improving my own magic skills! Shall we go and begin our day at the dairy, girls?” Without waiting for a reply, the auburn-haired beauty opened the door and walked out into a hall leading to a larger room that hummed with the sound of machinery. She, along with Sue and Zatanna, paused to watch Janet carefully secure the lock onto a latch on the outside of the door, before the four 21^st Century women headed for the main chamber of the 41^st Century dairy.

“Wanda, Sue, Janet, Zatanna, you’re here at last!” Bill Jennings, a stocky man in his late forties dressed in a gray business suit chortled with a big smile on his face, his grayish-blue eyes flashing with excitement. “I was beginning to think you might have changed your minds about earning a little spending money.” Bill paused to accept a warm hug from each of the four heroines, and then nodded to the long-haired blonde with green eyes and perfect, pinkish-tipped D-cups standing completely nude beside him and asked, “You remember Cheryl, my head waitress? She knows who you are and why you’re wearing breasts in spite of getting your chests flattened during your last visit to Final Fantasy, by the way, so we don’t have to run the twin sister ruse with her. I am confident we can all trust Cheryl!”

“Yes…of course we remember, and I know we can trust this sweet girl!” Wanda chirped joyfully. “How are you handling your new responsibilities, Cheryl?” Each of the heroines quickly gave the blonde waitress a hug while she formulated her answer.

“Most of the new duties have been easy to master, Miss Wanda,” Cheryl replied with a worried look on her face as she stood massaging her breasts, one with each hand, “although I did have to oversee the installation of quite a bit of new equipment at the nightclub, and even here in the dairy, during the past week. I gather some of that equipment was actually suggested by you girls. This morning was another matter, however. I just finished my first milking stint. Do my breasts look saggy?”

“Not at all, Cheryl,” Sue replied with a giggle. “I know it does feel that way, but it is mostly just psychological. You’ll get used to the sensation.”

“Yes, Sue is right, Cheryl!” Janet quickly agreed. Then she continued in a more derisive tone, “You will get used to being milked until you run dry. Wanda sure has!” Wanda’s reddening face in response to Janet’s chiding brought laughter from everyone.

“Yes, I’m sure you ALL have!” Bill quickly interjected, chuckling softly. “However, none of you will live long enough to ever get milked again if another male sees you in those clothes. Women are required to remain nude while in a dairy. If there is a next time, remember to leave your belongings in the entry room. Show them where they can temporarily stow their gear, Cheryl, while I get the lactation-inducing drugs ready for injection. Then we will get the girls ready to join the rest of the milk cows…starting with Wanda first, naturally.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Jennings!” Cheryl replied quickly, and walked over to metal box on a nearby counter. “You can drop you tops and bottoms into this container, girls, once you’ve stripped. Then we will join Mr. Jennings over by the stalls where he will give each of you some injections. Then I’ll give you all a quick tour of the facilities while waiting for the drugs to begin inducing lactation.”

“That is nice of you, Cheryl,” Zatanna replied as she made quick work of removing her bikini. “I’m sure you’re aching to get home and enjoy your off-duty time, now that your milking stint is finished. Are you going to do some shopping with the bonus money you earned today?”

“No, Miss Zatanna,” Cheryl replied with a mischievous smile. “Mr. Jennings has asked me to stay and help with the school field-trip classes that will be visiting us this afternoon. I’ll be serving the students complimentary bacon sandwiches and apple cider, and helping set things up for the various demonstrations that are sure to take place. Now that you are all fully disrobed, shall we join Mr. Jennings?”

Chapter 2. Human Milk Cows

Wanda looked around the large chamber, which was the main room of the dairy. She and her friends were standing near the front of the chamber before a small table that was positioned in front of four rows of milking stalls, each row consisting of four stalls and a glass chamber adjacent to each stall’s right side. The front row of stalls was empty, obviously waiting for the four heroines to fill the stations. The other three rows of stalls were already occupied by big breasted women—obviously a portion of Final Fantasy’s herd of milk cows—who were already hooked up to humming machinery and whose glass chambers were already partly filled with blue-tinged milk.

In one front corner of the room was a shorter replica of the Final Fantasy food ordering station counter. Cheryl had taken a position behind the counter and was busily making breast bacon sandwiches and filling plastic glasses with apple cider. Evidently, the first school field-trip class would arrive soon.

There was plenty of room in front of the milking stalls for a fairly large class to watch the milk cows in action from, but it was the various devices and pieces of equipment around the margins of the room that had attracted Wanda’s attention. A pair of nooses dangled above a pair of stools in the corner of the room kitty corner from Cheryl’s position. In the other rear corner of the room was a heavy wooden block with a headman’s axe imbedded in it. Wanda could also see a guillotine, a Jessica machine, a garrote chair, and a chest-high cutting board table with a long cutting blade attached to its left corner on its cutting side. There were other devices around the room that Wanda didn’t recognize. Wanda shivered as she stared from one device to another and hoped that she and her friends were not going to be part of any of the ‘demonstrations’ Cheryl had said she would be helping set up.

The warm touch of a hand lifting the underside of her left breast followed by a sharp jabbing pain to the breast’s erect nipple brought Wanda’s attention back to the front of the stalls. Bill Jennings was slowly pushing a long, thick needle attached to a large syringe into the center of the nipple and toward her chest. He grunted when he felt the needle was in deep enough and then began pushing the syringe plunger inward. “What are you injecting into me?” Wanda asked, frowning at the pain-filled whine that was evident in her voice.

“It’s the lactation-inducing drugs, Wanda” Bill Jennings replied softly, carefully watching the progress of the plunger. “It’s a cocktail that includes the chemicals metoclopramide and sulpirite, and even some of the hormones those chemicals are supposed to cause the production of—prolactin and oxytocin—to really jump start the milk production. I’m going to inject quite a lot of it into each breast. Once going through this injection process, a girl won’t need to go through it again as long as she submits to a milking at least once a week.” Bill grinned at Wanda’s deepening frown at this suggestion, and quickly began horizontal injections into the sides and top and bottom of the breast. He then picked up a new full syringe from the nearby table and repeated the procedure on the buxom heroine’s right breast. Zatanna was next, followed by Sue. Janet went last and, ever the pain slut, seemed to enjoy the needle jabs. Soon Bill had finished with all four girls, and had waved at Cheryl to come over and join them for the tour she had promised the heroines.

First, Cheryl led the heroines back to the milk cows and introduced the heroines to each girl, one at a time. This surprised Wanda and the other heroines, as they had expected these lottery winners to be treated as farm animals who had entered into the food supply chain for the 41^st Century, and not as girls just doing their work. Ever the spunky one, Janet asked Emily, a brunette with a lovely face and the last of the milk cows they were introduced to, “Do you enjoy working here at the Final Fantasy dairy, Emily?”

Emily smiled broadly and replied politely, “Yes, Miss…Janet wasn’t it? From what I’ve heard about other dairies, we are lucky to have been purchased by this establishment. We are very well treated, and I especially like first-week-of-the-month Wednesdays!”

“You like it when the school field trips come to see you at work, Emily?” Zatanna asked with obvious disbelief.

“It isn’t them seeing me at work that I like, Miss Zatanna,” Emily replied softly. “With every class there are always entertaining demonstrations. I like watching those demonstrations while I produce. Also, it is kind of fun to watch the looks on the faces of some of the smaller breasted girls when they realize that we big breasted girls get to survive for years after winning the lottery and being ordered to accept conversion, while they will only survive a few hours of painful conversion at best. I think I’m luckier than most girls!”

“Yes, I see your reasoning, Emily,” Wanda replied softly. “Actually, Cheryl, I was going to ask you why all of this…equipment…was lining the margins of the room?”

“Well, Miss Wanda, this dairy is a popular field-trip destination for a number of reasons,” Cheryl said with a jovial tone in her voice. “Most of the classes that come here are either High School Senior-grade home economics classes designed to teach the students how the world’s food supply is produced, or University women’s life-preparation classes meant to prepare the students to become better citizens by being knowledgeable about the difficult choices life forces upon the female gender. Obviously, seeing how the world’s milk supply is produced, and what one form of conversion can lead to, is available at this location.”

Cheryl took a deep breath before continuing with, “Final Fantasy has its own reasons for offering to take on the class field trips, reasons which also serve as additional attractions for using this dairy as a field-trip destination. In addition to demonstrating dairy life and procedures, we are able to get the concept of voluntary full or partial conversion presented to the students. This serves as an introduction to the idea that, once a girl has graduated from high school, partying at a debreasting booth nightclub like Final Fantasy might make for a fun night. We serve the sandwiches so the students can see how good breast meat tastes. For every field trip, some of the teachers escorting the students have already been debreasted, so the students can see life after breast loss can be quite normal. Inevitably, a student will want to see what a debreasting is like, and there are always breasted teacher escorts who are eager to facilitate their students learning, even by sacrificing their own breasts. We usually collect more breast bacon than we give away on field-trip Wednesdays!”

“And the death machines, Cheryl?” Sue asked softly with more than a hint of disapproval in her voice.

“With the number of teachers and college students coming through the dairy door, it is highly probable that there will be at least a few girls that have had their number come up in the latest lottery, Miss Sue,” Cheryl replied politely. “Some of them usually take advantage of our equipment to have a voluntary full conversion that is more enjoyable than the cold, impersonal, business-as-usual conversion that awaits them at the government-run facilities. Sometimes the equipment gets used for other reasons as well.”

“Are anyone else’s boobs feeling hot and itchy?” Janet suddenly asked with concern evident in her voice as she felt up her breasts. “Also, mine feel quite swollen! Can a girl have an allergic reaction to those lactation-inducing drugs?”

“You’re fine, Janet,” Wanda quickly assured her teammate. “What you are feeling is quite normal. The lobules in your breasts are beginning to fill with fluid…mother’s milk…and that fluid is also beginning to flow into your milk ducts. You’ll start leaking soon.” Wanda casually squeezed her left nipple with her right thumb and forefinger and then held her hand out to show the blue-tinged white fluid the action had produced. “Trust me on that!”

“You are quite right, Miss Wanda!” Cheryl chirped. “It’s time for Mr. Jennings to get you strapped into your stalls and fitted with your milkers.” Then the head waitress called out loudly, “The girls are ready now, Mr. Jennings. Do you need my help hooking them up?”

“No, I’ll handle it, Cheryl,” Bill Jennings replied calmly. “The students from East High School will be here shortly. You had best finish your preparations. You girls pick your stalls and I’ll start getting you ready for work.” Bill smiled as he watched the girls blush beet red and then jockey for position. Janet managed to get the booth to the right of the other heroines where she would be in front of the fewest students. Sue stood to her left, then Wanda, and then Zatanna on the far left, who would be in reach of any student bold enough to want to grab her.

Bill began preparing the heroines in the milking stalls by walking behind the girls and, beginning with Janet, securing their arms behind their backs. First he tied their wrists together with twine, and then he used more twine just above their elbows to pull their arms tightly together, causing the girls’ breasts to jut outward from their chests. Then, beginning with Zatanna, he moved back down the line, securing each girl’s ankles to the posts on the outside of the stall, spreading the heroines’ legs to form inverted V’s. He then reversed his course yet again and forced each girl to bend over a waist-high bar centered in each stall, securing the heroines in the bent over position with straps across their lower and upper backs.

Wanda watched with interest as Bill walked around to the front of the stalls and knelt under her. He unhooked a thin, transparent, malleable plastic bag from the side of the stall nearest her right breast and the transparent glass milk-storage chamber. Wanda could see a network of thin filaments lacing the bag, and a large elastic band at the open top that would secure the bag around the base of the breast it was inserted over. At the bottom of the bag was a small, white, rubber cup-like device that would be fitted over the buxom heroine’s nipple; although Wanda couldn’t see the intricacies of the cups construction, she was sure the device was mechanically quite complex. A thin, transparent, plastic tube led from the bottom of the cup to a metal cylinder, which Wanda assumed was a peristaltic pump, on the floor in front of the stall. There was another transparent plastic tube entering the cylinder on the same side; this tube from the milker still hanging from a hook on the side of the stall nearest her left breast. A single, thicker, transparent plastic tube ran from the other end of the pump cylinder to the top of the glass milk-storage container to Wanda’s right.

Wanda gasped with surprise as, after Bill pushed the malleable plastic bag over her breast and against her chest and fit the cup-like device at the bottom of the bag over her turgid right nipple, there was a painful biting sensation as something latched onto and compressed around her tender tip. Bill quickly removed the other milker from its hook and fitted it over her left breast, eliciting another gasp from Wanda as she felt the biting sensation on her left nipple.

Bill Jennings then flicked a switch on the forward post nearest Wanda’s milk-storage chamber and the heroine’s milking stall came alive. Wanda moaned as she felt the familiar sucking sensation, and the mechanical squeezing and pulling on her nipples. Then she gasped yet again as the malleable plastic bags around her breasts suddenly compressed inward to, first perfectly fit the form of her mammaries, and then begin rhythmically squeezing her boobs, causing Wanda to finally understand what the net of filaments was for. Wanda moaned loudly at the burning sensation in her breasts, which intensified as the machinery struggled to force the precious fluid out of her breast lobules and down the milk ducts leading to her teats. This was one of the most hated sensations that Wanda had ever felt, though this was far from her first experience with the sensation. Then the heroine gasped a final time as the leaking at the tips of her teats became rhythmic sprays.

“Look,” Janet chortled, “you can see white fluid moving down the transparent plastic tubes leading from Wanda’s tits! It’s Wanda’s milk! Wanda Maximoff has become a human milk cow!”

Behind the heroines, the twelve girls in the dairy herd called out, “Moo,” in unison. This brought laughter from everyone except Wanda, whose face was red with embarrassment.

Bill quickly moved over to Zatanna and began fitting her into her milking equipment. Once finished, he flicked the switch bringing her milk stall to life. Zatanna moaned as her breasts burned, and then gasped as her nipples began to spray her milk into her milking tubes. Seeing the pulsing flow of the raven-tressed heroine’s fluid in the tubes, Bill repeated the procedure with Sue, and then finally Janet. When Bill could finally see Janet’s mother’s milk flowing in her milking machine’s tubes, he grinned broadly and spat, “You four make fine additions to my milk cow herd. What say we do something to encourage you to yield your maximum milk production? Shall we dock nipples and clit from whichever of you goes dry first?”

Janet frowned and became pallid, before protesting, “That is not fair, Bill. We are here to donate to your nightclub today, and earn some spending money. We weren’t told we would be risking our sexy bits. Besides, it is a foregone conclusion that I’ll go dry first, even though you had the good sense to start my breast pump last. It’s a matter of breast volume. My C-cups can’t possible compete with their D-cups!” Janet thought Bill Jennings was kidding, but you could never be sure with a 41^st Century male, no matter how well you thought you knew him. She and Wanda had taken a taxi to the Baxter Building, rather than flying there in one of the Avengers’ Quinjets, because they had assumed they wouldn’t need the Chula nanogene tissue regenerator at the end of this trip; now it looked like that was no longer a foregone conclusion, and Janet didn’t relish the thought of explaining newly missing body parts to the taxi driver who took them home at the end of the day.

“Fair is a rarely used word by females in the 41^st Century, Janet,” Bill replied softly. “Maybe I’m teasing about docking the first girl out of the milking stall. Maybe I’m just trying to make sure no one tries to quit before I’ve drained every possible ounce of milk from their hooters. I will promise that someone will be docked at the end of the day. You just have to decide whether I’m talking about one of you, or about one of our field-trip participants. Speaking of which, the first group of students should be here soon. Oh, by the way, did I mention that the high school students like to pet the milk cows, and feel up their tits as they’re getting milked?” Bill chuckled at the four reddening faces of the heroines, and walked away to check on Cheryl.

Chapter 3. All in the Name of Education

“Ummm! Girls! I know this sounds really weird, but I’m actually feeling quite relaxed,” Janet softly announced about ten minutes after her milking stall had been activated. “You could almost say I’m feeling a glow of satisfaction. Do I have some sort of mental affliction, or what?”

Wanda laughed before replying, “No, Janet, it’s not your brain going haywire…this time. I suspect we are all feeling very similar sensations. The oxytocin, which your body is now producing in abundance, is causing those sensations. Those feelings are why oxytocin is known as the hormone of love…mainly meaning love for your infant…but it also facilitates relationships with adults as well. Those feelings are also why I dread the forced milkings the villains so often make us heroines submit to. A forced orgasm during rape is easy to justify to yourself. It’s just your sex organs responding to physical stimulation. However, to feel all warm and glowy while your bodily fluid is being stolen as you are being treated like a farm animal just feels…WRONG!”

“I understand why you would feel that way when being force-milked by some villain, Wanda,” Bill Jennings, who had just returned to the line of milking stalls, interjected. “However, in your present circumstance, you are voluntarily donating your milk in return for a healthy sum of money. If you can enjoy the sensations and feel good about what you are doing, you should do so. Speaking of feeling good, I’m going to go ahead and position the sex machines we promised we would have available for your use behind you now. You can ask to have them activated at anytime between field-trip classes.”

“I’m going to hold off and not use that option unless I get really bored, Bill,” Sue replied softly. “If I change my mind later, you can set mine up then.”

“I’ll set it up now, Sue,” insisted Bill, who was just finishing positioning one of the portable machines behind Janet. The machine was basically a box on wheels from which a rod extended. The height and angle of the rod could be adjusted, and when activated would repeatedly be plunged forward out of, and pulled backwards into, the box at an adjustable rate of speed. The end of the rod consisted of a thick, soft-rubber, penis-shaped, foot-long dildo. “Don’t worry! I won’t activate the sex machine unless you ask me to. The main reason I want them set up now is that, if there are any boys on the high school field trip, the presence of the machines may discourage them from trying to take advantage of your vulnerable positions.”

“OH!” Sue gasped in realization. “Yes! Do set my machine up right away.” Sue shook her head in disbelief. The thought of some boy in his late teens having sex with her while she was being milked was a disconcerting one. She was hoping to remain faithful to her husband during THIS trip to the future.”

Zatanna, like Sue and Wanda, watched closely as Bill lined up the rubber phallus on Janet’s machine with her vulnerable vulva, and then positioned its tip within an inch of her labial lips. “OH MY HECK!” the Justice Leaguer gasped. “It’s a Rape-O-Matic 3000 fucking machine, just like that villain, Mr. X, uses to tame heroines!”

Bill Jennings chuckled as he wheeled a second machine into position behind Sue, and then admitted, “Yes, the concept for these machines was invented by a 20^th Century villain, and I am sure they are terrible devices when forced upon a heroine. However, like the orgasmatron beam emitters, they are just expensive and very effective sex toys when used to pleasure a girl at her own request.”

Bill quickly finished setting up Sue’s machine, followed by Wanda’s and then Zatanna’s, before asking, “Okay, now that the machines are in position, does anyone want theirs turned on now? You may not get another chance to have me set the speed controls and flip the switch until the first field-trip class has departed.” Bill smiled as all four heroines shook their heads negatively.

“The school bus just pulled up, Mr. Jennings,” Cheryl called out from the door in the front corner of the room across from the food and drink counter. “Time to get your spiel ready, Sir!”

“Yes indeed, Cheryl!” Bill replied with a satisfied grin. “It’s time to begin recruiting the next generation of Final Fantasy customers!”

Wanda examined the crowd of people in front of her with interest. She had read the sign on the outside of the door when it opened. It had, printed in bold letters, the words, “Final Fantasy Dairy. Adults only! Teachers accompanying field trips are certifying all students with them as being of adult maturity.” There were about 30 nude female students in the crowd before her, and based on their appearance, Wanda wondered if age and maturity were far from synonymous in the 41^st Century. Then again, girls’ ages were always hard to guess, so Wanda decided to trust that the teachers were obeying the law. There were also two fully dressed boys in the room, busily ogling the naked femininity around them. The students were accompanied by nine nude female teachers, three of whom sported scars where breasts once protruded.

The oldest of the teachers, a breastless brunette in her late 30s, was making introductory remarks to the class, saying, “As you all know, a great plague swept through this world in the 39^th Century killing billions of people and most other animal life, including all of the animals we used as food sources. Prior to the plague, most of the milk people drank came from bovine animals called cows. As you also know, it was decreed by the world government following the plague that human females would replace the extinct farm animals as a source of food—milk as well as meat—principally through the Lottery and mandatory conversion of the Lottery winners.”

The teacher looked around to make sure the students were paying attention before continuing with, “I am told that the back three rows of milking stalls in this dairy are filled with girls who have undergone conversion to milk cows after winning the Lottery; these women are part of the world food supply and, by Agricultural Department regulations, may not be handled in any way by unauthorized personnel while they are producing. That means you may not approach or attempt to touch them; however, they may be asked to answer a few of your questions later. I am told that the front row of stalls is filled with unconverted girls who are volunteering their milk today in exchange for a small payment. Volunteered milk is very important to the world food supply, so you owe these girls a lot of respect for their willingness to donate their milk to Mr. Jennings’ dairy. These volunteers are not governed by Agricultural Department regulations, so Mr. Jennings has generously agreed to allow you to inspect the girls and their stalls as they are being milked, so long as you do not mess with the milking equipment or any of the switches.”

“Keep to the front of the stalls, only, so that you won’t get too close to the converted cows or some delicate equipment I have positioned behind the volunteers, class,” Mr. Jennings quickly interjected. “After you have inspected the volunteers and observed their being milked up close, we have sandwiches and drinks for you at the counter where my head waitress, Cheryl, is stationed. How long do the students have to make their inspections and get their refreshments, Mrs. Ogsdale?”

“Resume your present positions for a question and answer period in 10 minutes time, boys and girls,” the breastless brunette said with authority. “Quickly now, take turns visiting the stalls. The 10 minutes will pass very quickly, and you will be very disappointed if you miss out on tasting one of the famous Final Fantasy sandwiches.”

The four heroines in the front row of milking stalls had groaned and took turns glancing at each other as they listened to what the field-trip class was being instructed to do. Wanda had to admit to herself that she shouldn’t be surprised after all of the other things that had been forced upon her here in the 41^st Century. She could see that both Janet and Zatanna were ashen-faced at the prospects of being poked and prodded by a bunch of high school seniors. Their fears were justified—the two boys weren’t dummies and they spit up—each headed toward opposite ends of the row of milking stalls where they could investigate the volunteer milk cows from both ends.

Janet frowned and issued a low growl as the blonde boy beside her worked the fingers of his left hand past her labial lips and into her vaginal cavity, while he groped her jiggling right breast with his right hand, obviously disappointed that the heroine’s soft skin was under the milker’s transparent covering. Zatanna, on the other hand, attempted a smile and pretended to moan in pleasure as the other boy, a tall red-haired boy, began fingering her clean-shaven sex with his right hand while testing the weight of her pulsing left breast in his left hand; Zatanna had sacrificed her princess cut, following the examples set by her heroine friends, so that her fillet was ready for roasting if things ever went badly in this future world.

The room was awash with giggles as the girls felt the throbs and pulls as the milkers worked to pump the milk from the heroines’ breasts. The heroines suffered the indignity that was being heaped upon them with as much decorum as they could muster. The minutes passed inexorably slowly, but gradually the crowd in front of the stalls began to thin.

Finally, her patience at an end, Janet turned to the blonde groper beside her and said with obvious frustration, “You do know that those sandwiches they are serving are made out of girls’ breasts, just like the breast you’ve been groping for the past few minutes. Don’t you want to see what they taste like, imagining that, perhaps someday, that meat will be mine? They might run out of sandwiches at any minute.”

The boy laughed loudly, and spat, “Remember my face, you cow, because one of these days someone will eat those tits of yours and it’s gonna be me!” The boy then raced off to the food counter to get his breast bacon sandwich. The red-haired boy, who had been groping Zatanna, had been listening to the exchange of words and decided he better get his food as well. After giving Zatanna a hard smack on the butt with the flat of his hand, he raced after his friend.

A few minutes later, the class, reassembled at the front of the room with most students still munching sandwiches, was reconvened by Mrs. Ogsdale. The head teacher asked, “Well, girls and boys, who has questions for Mr. Jennings or his milk cows? Surely, inspecting the volunteers as they are being milked has got some of you curious about what it would be like to run a dairy or become converted into a milk cow.”

A chubby brunette girl sporting a heavy bust line near the front of the class quickly raised her hand and, after Mrs. Ogsdale nodded to her, asked, “What determines if you’re going to be converted to a milk cow after winning the Lottery?”

“Peggy, do you want to answer that one?” Mr. Jennings asked looking to the back row of milking stalls.

“Yes, Mr. Jennings,” a plain-looking blonde in one of the corner stalls replied. “Miss, you are likely to end up ordered for milk cow conversion if you have D-cup or larger breasts and are not pretty enough, or have too high of a body-fat ratio, to receive a Grade-A rating.”

A petite, young-looking, blonde girl in the middle of the assemblage raised her hand, and after receiving the nod from Mrs. Ogsdale, inquired, “Why do the volunteer cows’ boobs jiggle and pulse as they’re being milked?”

“Do we need a refresher course on breast anatomy, Mrs. Ogsdale?” Mr. Jennings asked softly. “If so, do you or one of your teachers want to cover that, or do you want me to give it a try?”

“You are the breast expert here, Mr. Jennings,” Mrs. Ogsdale replied pointing to her chest scars and trying not to join the girls in the class in their giggling. “You give it a try. We teachers will help if we hear anything wrong.”

“Okay, here goes,” Bill Jennings replied with a pained look on his face. “Under the skin, female breasts are mostly fatty tissue, with some ligaments and connective tissue, but also have 15 to 20 lobes of glandular tissue distributed through them in an uneven wheel-spoke pattern emanating from the nipple area. These lobes are further divided into lobules made up of sack-like structures called alveoli, which are small until lactation is induced and then enlarge to store mother’s milk. The lobules in each lobe are interconnected by small milk-conducting ducts, but larger ducts lead from each lobe to the nipple area to conduct milk to where it is needed. These larger ducts widen near the front of the breasts, allowing milk to pool behind the areolae, and then narrow again before reaching the breast tips, and are sometimes referred to as sacs.”

Bill smiled, knowing he had made it through the tricky part of his explanation without being corrected, before continuing his explanation, “During lactation, a hormone called oxytocin causes small bands of muscle around the enlarged alveoli to contract, forcing milk from the lobules into the milk ducts. The clear plastic part of the milkers encasing each of the milk cow’s breasts have filaments in them which rhythmically contract and expand to force even more milk from the alveoli-rich lobules and into the milk ducts, while mechanical elements in the white cups of the milkers over the milk cows’ nipples rhythmically pinch, pull, and provide suction on the milk cows’ nipples to simulate a baby’s suckling mouth. All of this mechanical action from the milkers causes the milk cows’ breasts to jiggle and pulse…a pleasant sensation, I assure you. Next question?”

The brunette girl near the front of the class who had asked the first question raised her hand again and, after Mrs. Ogsdale nodded to her again, asked, “What is it like to be a milk cow? Is it worse than being converted to meat?”

“Sandra, you’ve been part of the herd for nearly 10 years,” Mr. Jennings said looking toward a middle-aged blonde in the second row of milking booths. “Would you like to answer the young lady’s question?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Jennings,” Sandra replied politely. “Miss, the answer to your question depends on how a milk cow’s individual situation develops. If you are converted to meat, life is over. There is no more pain, and no more pleasure. If you are converted to a milk cow, it might be many years before you are no longer able to produce and are put down. During that time, your milkings are not all that unpleasant, but perhaps a bit boring. If you are lucky and are purchased by a smaller dairy, such as Mr. Jennings’, you are usually well treated, well fed, and allowed access to entertainment when not producing. Here at the Final Fantasy dairy we have our own rooms, and they even have hologram projectors so we can watch the entertainment broadcasts. If you get purchased by one of the larger dairies, you are usually not treated so well, and conditions are more like prison. In either case, you don’t get to see your family, even though they know you are alive somewhere. That is kind of hard for most girls to deal with. Also, your friends don’t get to celebrate your conversion like they do if you are a Grade-A live roaster.” Samantha frowned as the girl who asked the question became teary-eyed and nodded emphatically at one of the teachers.

A pretty, very well-developed, blonde girl sitting next to the two boys was next to raise her hand. Mrs. Ogsdale nodded and said, “Go ahead and ask your question, Barbara.”

“Mr. Jennings, Billy says your sandwiches are made from breasts cut off living girls,” Barbara said with obvious disbelief. “That isn’t true, is it?”

Bill Jennings smiled his most reassuring smile, and carefully prepared to give the spiel that was his reason for allowing the field-trip classes to come to his dairy. “Actually, Billy is telling the truth, Barbara, but this is going to take a bit of explanation for you to understand the situation.”

“First, let us talk about conversion,” Bill said softly. “Due to that plague two centuries ago that Mrs. Ogsdale told you about, females are unfortunately expected to become part of the world-wide food chain at some point in their lives. Some women wait to contribute to the food chain until they win the Lottery and are forced into whatever fate—milk cow, live roaster, long pig, butchered meat cuts, or ground meat—that Lottery meat graders decide they are best suited for. Other women decide to donate to the food chain at their own schedule and in their own manner.”

Bill pointed to the heroines in the milking stalls behind him and said, “These girls are choosing to spend a few hours donating milk to the world-wide food chain, as a favor to me, and to earn a little spending money.” Bill then pointed to Cheryl, behind the counter, and said, “This girl and some of her friends donated milk earlier this morning.”

“Some girls decide to donate their meat before winning the Lottery,” Bill continued softly. “Sometimes they go all the way, volunteering for full conversion, and become live roasters, long pigs, or meat cuts, as a favor to friends, due to the loss of an interesting gamble or game, or simply to choose the manner of their own death.”

“Other girls choose to volunteer for partial conversion and donate unneeded body parts in exchange for money, the thrill of the danger and pain, a chance for pleasure with a possibility of not having to pay a price for that pleasure, or simply to educate others,” Bill continued in a soothing tone, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the six breasted teachers were now fidgeting and frowning. “Breasts are unneeded body parts. Many girls come to my nightclub, Final Fantasy, to party. There, they can risk their breasts in a debreasting booth game in exchange for free drinks and the opportunity to experience the pleasure of an orgasmatron beam. Some girls have done a booth stint many, many times and have never paid the price for the orgasmatron-induced pleasure. Other girls have their luck run out, and their breasts are traded to me by their debreastors in exchange for prepared food. That is where the breast meat in the sandwiches came from, Barbara. However, please note that losing those unneeded body parts is not necessarily a terrible thing. Three of your revered teachers no longer have breasts, but are they less-capable teachers because of that?”

A short redhead in the back row of students, who was busy rubbing her nubile breasts and pulling on her erect nipples, called out, “Does it hurt to have your titties cut off?”

Bill Jennings again smiled his most reassuring smile, before replying, “Yes, Miss, it does hurt. Your breasts have very sensitive nerves running through them, especially in the nipple area. However, if the wounds are bandaged with modern bandages, the pain quickly goes away and the debreasted girl can continue to enjoy her night until she can get to an instant-care medical clinic and have her wounds treated…even covered with skin grafts, if she so chooses.”

Bill looked over to the youngest of the three breastless teachers, a gorgeous redhead in her early twenties, and asked, “You donated your breasts to the world-wide food-supply chain in one of my debreasting booths last year, didn’t you, Miss Rivendale? Why don’t you tell the students about your experience?”

Deloris Rivendale turned beet red as all of the attention suddenly focused on her and her flattened chest, before stammering, “Yes…yes…Mr. Jennings…I did…lose my…C-cups at…Final Fantasy. My friends and I…had partied…there regularly…for months…experiencing…mind-blowing orgasms…from the orgasmatron beam emitters…in the booths…night after night. Then…one night…a beautiful blonde girl…asked me…during a stint in a booth…if…I wanted my…boobies…converted…to bacon. I couldn’t believe it…when I heard myself…say…‘YES…I want my balloons…popped…turned into bacon’. The blonde girl…slapped my…debreast button…and…my C-cups…were slowly lasered…off my chest. It hurt like hell! I had the most wonderful orgasm I’ve ever experienced! The blonde girl and I…went home…together. We made love! We live together now. I chose to not get the skin grafts…like many debreasted girls do…to honor my debreastor…my life partner. I wish I could grow new breasts…so I could be debreasted again!”

The room was suddenly silent, and the non-students in the room were somewhat embarrassed as they realized many of the students’ hands had dropped to their crotches. Fortunately, a few seconds later, a dark-skinned girl near the entry door girl asked, “Is that how you get debreasted? Your titties get lasered off?”

“Sometimes, Miss,” Bill Jennings replied with a broad smile. “However, there are dozens of debreasting options available for a girl to choose from in the debreasting booths at Final Fantasy, and more methods are invented every month. There is sure to be a debreasting method to match any girl’s fancy. How many of you ladies have fantasized about being debreasted?”

Bill grinned with satisfaction as Cheryl quickly threw her hand in the air, followed one-by-one by each of the teachers, and then, finally, by almost every girl in the class. Then he asked, “How about you boys? Do you fantasize about debreasting a willing girl?”

Both boys nodded for a moment, before the blonde-haired boy, Billy, chortled, “Hell yes! I’d do Barbara’s D-cup tits right now, if she would let me! They look like they would taste great!”

The class giggled loudly as the young blonde turned beet red and covered her well-endowed chest with folded arms. As the giggling subsided, the red-haired boy threw his hand into the air. “Yes, Samuel, ask your question,” Mrs. Ogsdale instructed loudly.

The boy blushed before he said in a soft voice, “Most of the girls raised their hands, admitting they have fantasized about being debreasted. Talk is cheap. I want to see at least one of them lose their titties!”

“Well, Samuel, sometimes a girl’s parents will send her on these field trips with a note giving permission to have her debreasted,” Bill said softly, with a twinkle in his eyes. “However, even if that were the case today, I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking a student’s breasts unless she had seen an older girl undergo the procedure. I guess, Samuel, you are going to have to wait until you are old enough to enjoy the entertainment at Final Fantasy.”

“Or maybe not,” Mrs. Ogsdale interjected. “We do have one girl who was sent on this field trip with a permission slip from her parents. She, having learned much from this field trip, would like to have her breasts removed so that she can’t possibly end up being ordered for conversion into a milk cow. Perhaps some of the breasted high school staff, who I noticed all raised their hands to indicate they fantasized about being debreasted, would volunteer to demonstrate various debreasting methods. Then Mr. Jennings would be willing to comply with the student’s parents’ wishes.”

Chapter 4. Wanda Gets Her Entertainment at Last!

Wanda glanced to the milk-storage container to her right, and noted that there was already more than a liter of her milk in it. She looked to her right and left and could see that the fluid levels in the other heroines’ containers were at nearly the same level as hers. She looked at the clear plastic tubes leading from her breasts and could see that the rhythmic pulses of white fluid were strong, indicating that her nipples were still spraying nice jets with each tug and pinch. Wanda smiled. She actually wasn’t minding being milked for the first time in her life. She vowed that Bill Jennings would never find out about THAT!

Wanda glanced back out to the dairy’s observation deck. The girls were giggling excitedly as their six breasted teachers formed a line parallel to the room’s wall in front of them and to their right, and to Wanda’s left. Wanda noted that the two boys’ pants were tented at their crotches, indicating erections. It was obvious the whole class was exhilarated at the prospect of watching some of their teachers getting debreasted.

The six breasted teachers looked to be very nervous, but not necessarily afraid. Evidently they had been briefed on the likelihood they would be put in their present predicaments before being assigned to field-trip escort duty. Bill Jennings stood in front of the class, and in front of the breasted teachers with Mrs. Ogsdale. He called out loudly, “Quiet down, students! We will get started with the demonstrations momentarily. First, I want to say that I am very impressed with the dedication being shown by your teachers, as all of them who still have breasts have volunteered to be part of the demonstrations if they are selected to do so. Thank you, Ladies!”

“Mrs. Ogsdale, do you want all six of your peers to be used to demonstrate various debreasting methods to the class, or just two, three, or four of them?” Bill asked politely, watching the six breasted teachers begin to shiver nervously as they listened to his question.

“Let us be neither wasteful nor selfish, Mr. Jennings,” Mrs. Ogsdale said loudly and firmly. “Let’s ask three of these students’ teachers to demonstrate partial conversion through donation of their breast meat. Then we will let the student with the written permission of her parents show her courage to her classmates as she accepts debreasting. After that, I am pleased to announce that there will be at least one volunteer to show the class what full conversion is like.”

“Very well, Mrs. Ogsdale,” Bill Jennings replied with a broad smile. “Would you like to select the three teachers who will be debreasted?”

“No, Mr. Jennings,” Mrs. Ogsdale replied calmly. “I’ll leave that up to you, and not to the students.”

“As you wish, Mrs. Ogsdale,” Bill Jennings replied softly. “I anticipated that answer and, although, as an adult male, I could choose the three teachers based on personal biases, I think it best to leave their fates to chance. Ladies, my assistant, Cheryl, is going to hold a bucket above your head with six numbered cubes in it. As she stands before you, take one of the cubes from the bucket, but don’t reveal the number on it until I tell you to. Those drawing the numbers one through three will be debreasted, beginning with the teacher pulling number one and ending with the teacher pulling number three. The debreasting methods will get more intricate and more painful as we go along. I’m sure you will all make good examples of bravery for your students.”

Cheryl quickly moved down the line of teachers holding a small bucket over her head, waiting in front of each girl until she had pulled her cube. Once the six cubes had been distributed, Cheryl returned to her counter with the bucket. The six teachers held the cubes in tightly clenched hands.

“Okay, Ladies, hold out your cubes for the students and the rest of us to see,” Bill commanded sternly. He was rewarded with three gasps of relief and three sighs of disappointment. “Those ladies holding the cubes marked four through six may now move over to the counter and return the cubes to Cheryl. My head waitress will reward your courage with some tickets that can be used to redeem drinks at Final Fantasy. I hope to see the three of you there some night soon. Perhaps you’ll choose to try my debreasting booth game? The risks in the booths are certainly no greater than the risk you just took, and I think you will find the orgasmatron beam reward at the end of your booth stint to be a very special treat!”

As the lucky teachers hurried off to get their drink tickets, Bill walked over to stand before the three remaining girls in the lineup. The teacher in the center of the group, who had drawn number one, was a slim, raven-haired girl of oriental descent carrying perfect C-cups tipped with turgid pinkish-brown nipples. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, wore a nervous smile, and her almond-brown eyes flashed with interest in what was about to happen to her.

To her right was a buxom, Grade-A redhead with massive slightly drooping D-cups tipped with brownish-pink nipples that stood out as erect buttons on silver-dollar sized areolae. This girl, who looked to be in her early twenties, held the cube with the number two on it. Her gleaming green eyes peered outward from a fine-featured frowning face that exhibited a hint of the remorse she was obviously feeling.

To the left of the oriental girl was a thin, petite, blue-eyed blonde in her mid-thirties who stood grinning stupidly at the cube in her right hand that had the number three on it. This girl carried tiny A-cups tipped with pinkish areolae and nipples; the areolae were quite small, but the nipples were very thick and fully erect. Bill was confident that this girl would accept the pain that would soon be forced upon her with great dignity and courage.

His inspection complete, Bill had decided which debreasting method he would use on each girl. He always made this selection carefully, based on breast size and attitude. His goal, of course, was to make the debreastings look acceptable or even attractive. The hope was that many of the high school girls would become Final Fantasy customers in the future, after graduation from the senior class in a few short months.

Bill stepped back from the lineup and then nodded to the oriental girl, saying, “Step forward, Miss.” The girl quickly complied, still wearing the nervous smile. “What is your name, and what subject do you teach at school, Miss?” Bill asked in a friendly tone.

“My name is Mariko Nakamura, Mr. Jennings,” the girl replied calmly in a sing-song voice. “I teach art for all of the high school grades.”

“I’m sure you are an excellent art teacher, Mariko,” Bill said softly. “Don’t you worry about what we are about to do. There will be some pain, but it won’t last long. Then you will be able to rejoin your students.” Bill turned to Cheryl and mouthed the words ‘cutting board’.

As Cheryl moved from her position behind the food and drink counter to push the needed equipment into position, Bill turned and addressed the class, saying, “Many women make partial donations in exchange for money at the local store or butcher’s shop. The butchers at the store or shop have two types of equipment they use to remove breasts—a cutting board or a meat slicer. The cutting board is used to remove the breasts in a manner that leaves them intact. The meat slicer is used to incrementally slice the breasts off of the girl’s chest…in slices that may be thick or thin.”

Bill turned to see that Cheryl had the cutting board table positioned in front of Mariko, who now looked very nervous. Cheryl soon was on her knees engaging the apparatus’ wheel locks. “This is a common type of cutting board table,” Bill announced to the class. “It is actually identical to the cutting board table that my late wife donated her breasts on. In a few seconds Miss Nakamura will donate her breasts for your education in the same fashion that thousands of women world-wide do every year for money.”

Bill turned, walked over to Mariko, and asked in a whispered voice, “Mariko, I need someone to tug on your nipples, to stretch your breasts out over the cutting board. Do you want one of the teachers to help you, or should I have Cheryl do it?”

“I would like Helen to do this for me…if she will,” Mariko whispered back in a quivering voice. Her hands, held in front of her clean-shaven sex, were shaking badly.

“Very well, Mariko,” Bill replied calmly. “While Helen is walking over to help us, I’m going to tie your hands behind your back. This is just a precaution to make sure they don’t accidently get under the blade.”

Bill moved behind Mariko and, as he pulled a length of twine from his right front pants pocket, asked calmly, “Helen, would you be a dear and come over here to stand on the other side of the table? Miss Nakamura and I would like you to help us with this demonstration.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Jennings,” replied one of the breasted teachers who had been lucky in the drawing. Bill smiled at the Grade-A brown-eyed brunette sporting perfect D-cups tipped with turgid pinkish-brown nipples and areolae. Bill quickly tied Mariko’s wrists together behind her back with the twine while the slim, athletic-looking girl, who looked to be Mariko’s age, moved into position.

“Okay, Mariko, spread your legs as wide as you can, and then I’m going to lean you forward until the bases of your breasts are on the cutting board,” Bill said softly. “When you’re in position, I’m going to reach for the cutting blade with my left hand, and pull it up until I can transfer it to my right hand. Then I’ll use my left hand to hold your head back out of the way while Helen tugs on your nipples to stretch as much of your breasts over the cutting board as she can without hurting you. Let me know when you’re ready?”

“Thank you for helping, Helen,” Mariko whispered softly as she spread her feet widely apart. Then Mariko announced loudly in a calm voice, “I’m ready! Watch closely, girls and boys. Let’s do this, Mr. Jennings!”

Mariko swallowed hard as she felt the man behind her lean her forward and fear filled her heart. Her eyes automatically dropped to the cutting board table top as the bases of her breasts were positioned on it at its edge. She couldn’t help but notice Mr. Jennings’ erection pressing against her wet vulva through his suit pants. She wished he would put it in her, but knew he wouldn’t with the students in the room. She felt, rather than saw, Mr. Jennings unlock the safety hook before reaching for the wooden cutting blade handle with his left hand, and then pulling the blade up into a vertical position and transfer the handle to his right hand.

“Slow or fast, Miss Nakamura?” Bill asked, loudly enough for the students to hear.

“Do it slowly, Mr. Jennings,” Mariko replied, also loudly enough for the students to hear, her voice cracking slightly. “If you can only do a thing once, then it should be done in a manner that allows the experience to be savored…even when a bit of pain might be involved. A girl can only donate her breasts once.”

“You demonstrate wisdom beyond your years, Miss Nakamura,” Bill replied calmly, again loud enough for the students to hear. “Stretch her breasts as well as you can, Helen. If a girl is donating her breast bacon, you want to make sure you harvest all of it.” Bill watched as Helen tugged hard on Mariko’s nipples, stretching the tender flesh away from the oriental beauty’s chest, and then, holding the girl’s lovely face out of the way, he lowered the cutting blade to the top of Mariko’s left breast.

Mariko let out a quiet gasp as she felt the edge of the blade touch her left breast at the upper outside quarter. By the touch alone, she could tell the blade was razor sharp, and would easily part her skin. The blade past her face, Mr. Jennings released her head, and she felt him grab one of the table legs to help him pin her body firmly into its present position. Mariko quickly pushed her head forward and lowered her eyes so that she could look down on the blade that would soon take her tender breasts.

Mariko had a silly, amused smile on her face when she realized that the man behind her was grinding his cloth-covered manhood into her sex as he began to lower the cutting blade, pushing the blade edge into her well-stretched breast flesh. The blade had cut quite deeply into the upper outside portion of her left breast before she felt the itchy sensation that quickly became pain as her nervous system protested the damage that was being heaped upon the teacher’s lovely bosom. There was a thin red line where the blade had parted flesh, but not the terrible flood of blood Mariko had anticipated she would see.

Her smile slowly changed to a look of concern, as the girl gritted her teeth and watched the upper part of her left breast slowly get parted. Her left breast was half severed by the time the slowly lowering blade touched the top inside quarter of her right breast. Mariko felt pride fill her soul. She had yet to issue a cry of pain or fear. Slowly the man behind her lowered the meat cutting blade into her bosom. Soon, her left breast was only attached to her chest by a thin strip of flesh in its lower inside quarter, and her right breast was halfway severed.

Mariko moaned softly and frowned. She couldn’t help herself. Her chest burned in agony even though there still wasn’t much blood. Still, in spite of the pain, she forced herself to watch the slowly lowering blade that was now buried deeply into her right breast. If her left breast was still part of her at all, it was by a bit of skin alone. Mariko held her breath—she kept holding it until the cutting blade finally bottomed out on the table top and Helen’s tugs suddenly pulled both of her orbs away from her chest.

Mariko stood stunned as she watched Helen release the severed appendages and step back away from the table and Mariko’s donated bacon, while the man behind her released her so she could lift her torso from the cutting board. Mariko still seemed to be stunned as Cheryl washed the blood from her chest and then bandaged her circular wounds, while Mr. Jennings untied her hands. Then the young teacher smiled. The circular bandages were amazing, as the pain at her chest had already dramatically subsided.

Mariko stepped forward and lifted her breasts by their still erect nipples from the top of the cutting board table. “Girls and boys, I, your teacher, Mariko Nakamura, have made my first donation to the world food supply, as is the duty of all girls,” Mariko announced triumphantly as she held the lumps of breast bacon forward for everyone to see. Mariko grinned at the roar of applause from the students and her fellow teachers. When Cheryl showed up and held a silver tray under the severed breasts, Mariko gently lowered what once she proudly carried on her chest onto the tray and called out loudly with a happy grin on her face, “Next!”

Chapter 5. Doing One Set Right to Sell the Pitch

Janet laughed softly at the look of contentment on Wanda’s face, to which Sue and Zatanna responded with knowing grins. Janet doubted Wanda was even aware of the milk spraying out of her jiggling breasts. Janet, however, was very aware of her own ongoing milking. She was totally amazed at the quantity of fluid that her C-cups had already produced—perhaps one-and-a-half liters. She could still feel strong jets of milk leaving her nipples with every tug and pinch of her milkers.

Out on the observation deck, Cheryl was rolling the cutting board table back to its original position, while Bill was moving a box-like open frame on wheels from the far side of the room to the position where Mariko had been debreasted. Once in position just forward of and between the two teachers waiting to donate their breasts, the wheel locks on this device were quickly engaged by Cheryl while Bill pushed a power cord plug into a nearby electrical socket. Janet had to admit that the intricate dance that Bill and Cheryl were performing, a dance that the redheaded teacher would soon be joining, was interesting.

Bill stepped back from the machine and looked into the redhead’s face, saying, “Step forward, Miss, and take a position just in front of the frame.” Bill watched as the girl nervously obeyed his instructions, and then asked, “What is your name, Miss? What subject do you teach at school?”

“My name is Penny Wilson, and I teach English, Mr. Jennings, Sir,” Penny replied with a quivering voice. The students suddenly applauded, and the two boys added whistles.

“Miss Wilson was voted by the students as this year’s Outstanding Teacher at East High School, Mr. Jennings,” Mrs. Ogsdale quickly explained. “She got a particularly high percentage of the boys’ votes. I suspect that percentage may drop next year after she donates those massive knockers of hers.”

“No offense, Mrs. Ogsdale,” Bill Jennings replied sternly, “but that is simply nonsense. While I’m sure the boys didn’t mind ogling Penny’s chest, I’m sure it is her beautiful face, her lovely green eyes, those legs that never end, and, most importantly, her fantastic teaching ability that really earned her those votes.”

“Penny, if you can remain calm and set a brave example for these students today, I’m sure you will garner even more respect from your students,” Bill said smiling at the gorgeous young teacher. “As I told Mariko, after we have made our preparations and begin the demonstration, there will be some pain, but it will rapidly be over with and you will be back with your students and onward with your career.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Jennings,” Penny replied softly. “I will do my best to make the students proud of being East High Panthers!” This brought more cheers from the students, some of whom were watching Cheryl make a show of carefully cleaning Mariko’s severed breasts from behind the bar before setting the lumps of bacon on another tray covered with blood red cloth. It was important for the students to see that the value of the sacrificed body parts was fully appreciated by Final Fantasy staff.

“Okay, Penny, then let’s start getting you ready,” Bill replied calmly. “First, I’m going to tie your ankles to the bottom corners of the frame behind you. You can hold onto the frame with your hands to steady yourself if you need to.” Bill watched as Penny nodded, and then dropped to his knees. He pulled the girl’s left foot wide and secured it with twine to the corner of the front frame behind her, and then repeated the procedure with the teacher’s right foot.

Penny shivered nervously, all too aware that a male stranger’s head was inches away from her clean-shaven sex, and that the widespread position her legs were being placed in would leave her privates in easy view of the students and her peers. Fortunately, Mr. Jennings made quick work of securing her right ankle with more twine, and got to his feet.

“Well done, Penny,” Bill said with all of the encouragement he could muster. “Now I’m going to tie your wrists to the top corners of the frame. Don’t worry! We will release you from this position as quickly as possible once the demonstration for your students has been completed.” Bill quickly tied Penny’s left wrist to the corner of the frame behind her with twine, and then repeated the procedure with her right wrist. Bill grunted with satisfaction. With the young teacher fully stretched out to form an X, she wouldn’t be able to move her chest far enough to escape the debreasting device he was about to place her in.

“Fetch the loops and sternum pad, Cheryl,” Bill commanded.

“I have them right here, Sir,” Cheryl replied from the position she had taken right behind Bill Jennings. The head waitress had anticipated her boss’s needs.

“Good girl,” Bill exclaimed with sincerity. He took the two loops and hung them from small pegs on the inside of the two forward-corner vertical frame posts, so that there was a loop on either side of Penny’s waist. Then he set the pad on top of the upper horizontal cross-bar above the girl’s head. “Now, Cheryl, unreel the retraction cable from the left spooler.”

Cheryl walked to the back of the box-like frame and flicked the release switch on the end of a sideways positioned 8-inch-long, 6-inch-diameter drum that was chest-high on the left rear-corner vertical frame post. Then she grasped a small, elongated, oval ring protruding from the forward-facing side of the drum just outside of the vertical frame post and began walking towards the front of the frame, dragging thin cable attached to the oval ring out of the drum as she went. When the head waitress reached the left front-corner vertical frame post, she threaded the ring and attached cable through an eye bolt that protruded forward out of the vertical frame post at chest level.

Noting his employee’s progress, Bill picked up the loop hanging from the peg on the side of the left forward-corner vertical frame post and held it in front of Penny’s face, careful to make sure his body was not obstructing the field-trip class’s view, and explained, “Class, this is razor wire held in loop form by two small spring clips on the sides of the loop from which the ends of the loop extend. On each end of the looped wire, there is an attached oval snap-hook clasp for securing one loop end to the oval ring at the end of the retraction cable that Cheryl threaded through the eye of the eye bolt positioned just barely behind the outer base of Miss Wilson’s right breast,” Bill nimbly secured the outer snap-hook clasp to the retraction cable, pushed the loop over Penny’s right breast, and retrieved the sternum pad from the horizontal bar above the bound girl’s head before continuing with, “and securing the other end of the loop to the sternum pad that will protect the skin between Miss Wilson’s breasts from being damaged.” Holding the loop in place around Penny’s right breast with his left hand, Bill connected the inner snap-hook clasp to the ring at the end of the woven metal sternum pad.

“Now, Cheryl, unreel the retraction cable from the right spooler,” Bill commanded, and then watched as his employee walked to the back of the frame and flicked the release switch on the drum at the back of the right side of the frame that was a twin to the drum Cheryl had already unwound retraction cable from. Soon, Cheryl had fed an oval ring and cable through the eye of a second eye bold protruding forward out of the right forward-corner vertical frame post at chest level. Bill quickly retrieved the second razor-wire loop from its peg on the left side of Penny’s face with his right hand while he held the first loop and sternum pad in place over the teacher’s right breast with his left hand, and watched patiently while Cheryl attached the snap-hook clasp on the outside end of the loop to the retraction cable. Bill deftly managed to position the loop over Penny’s left breast with his right hand, and then waited until Cheryl attached the inside snap-hook clasp to the free ring on the sternum pad.

“Re-engage the reel locks so that the twin cable spoolers will wind when the electric motor attached to the central rear vertical frame post rotates the axle leading to the reels in the drums, Cheryl,” Bill commanded calmly as he offered a friendly smile to an ever more nervous Penny. Bill watched as Cheryl walked back to the right rear corner of the frame and re-engaged the switch on the drum there, before walking behind the frame to the left rear corner of the frame and re-engaging the switch on the first drum she had unlocked.

“Good, Cheryl, now come and hold the loop that’s around the base of Penny’s right breast and the sternum pad on her chest in place,” Bill requested softly. The head waitress complied immediately, allowing Bill to transfer his left hand to the loop around the base of the teacher’s left breast so that he could move his right hand to a switch and knob dial on the outside of the right forward-corner vertical frame post. Bill rotated the knob counterclockwise to its minimum setting, and then flipped the switch, turning the electric motor, which would rotate the axle and attached cable spoolers, on. Paying close attention to the wire loops, Bill rotated the knob slightly clockwise, causing cable to be retracted into the drums at each side of the rear of the frame until the razor wire loops began to get smaller.

Just as the loops began to tighten around the bases of Penny’s breasts, Bill turned the knob counterclockwise again. He quickly began making sure the loops and sternum pad were properly positioned to the very bases of the teacher’s breasts and snug against her chest. This freed Cheryl, who quickly returned to the back of her counter where she retrieved a small remote control, two lengths of string with pre-tied slip knots at each end, and three bags of thick elastic bands, each bag holding different diameter bands. Cheryl returned to stand behind her boss as he twisted the tension control knob slightly clockwise again, retracting the cable and causing the razor wire loops to tighten around the bases of Penny’s breasts. When there was a nice indentation all around the base of the teacher’s breasts, causing her fleshy orbs to ball slightly, Bill again turned the tension control knob slightly counterclockwise.

Bill smiled and nodded at Cheryl as she handed him the small remote control and the two lengths of 2.5-foot-long string, and then turned to face the field-trip class. “Girls, before we proceed with our demonstration, I want to give all of you the chance to get a small glimpse into what Miss Wilson is feeling happen to her. It will be just a taste of the sensations she is experiencing, nothing at all painful, although she will most certainly experience some temporary discomfort once we proceed. My assistant, Cheryl, will be handing each of you ladies two elastic bands. I want you each to put one band over each breast and push the bands back to the bases of your breasts. This will cause your breasts to ball slightly, as the wire has caused Miss Wilson’s breasts to ball, but I assure you this will cause no damage to your chests.”

The boys began whispering to each other as most of the girls giggled and chattered excitedly in response to Mr. Jennings’ instructions. Cheryl quickly took two bands out of the bag that held the largest-sized elastics, and bent over to set the three bags on the floor. Then she stood and said loudly, “Watch, girls, I’ll show you how easy it is!” The waitress quickly fit one band over her right breast, and then another over her left breast, pushing the bands as far back as she could get them. “Don’t the indentations into the bases of my breasts look really sexy?” Cheryl asked with a giggle. “It makes me feel really sexy too!”

Cheryl picked up her bags and began distributing the elastic bands to the females with the field-trip class, beginning with the three breasted teachers who had drawn the cubes numbered 4 through 6. The three teachers made an act of showing the students how to put the bands on their breasts, while Cheryl passed out two bands to each girl. The size of the bands being given to each student and teacher depended on breast size.

As his waitress distributed the bands to the girls, Bill used the remote control to lower two cables, about a foot apart from each other, oriented parallel to the front of the box-like frame, and about two feet in front of Penny, from the ceiling until he could just reach the snap-loop clasps at the end of the cables with his hands. He quickly fit a slip knot on one end of each string though each snap-loop clasp and pulled the knots tight. Then Bill took the end of the string on the same side as Penny’s left breast, pushed the slip knot over her erect left nipple, and pulled the knot tight until it bit deeply into the base of her nipple. He repeated this procedure to secure the end of the other string to the base of Penny’s right nipple.

Bill turned back to address the class, and was pleased to find the breasts of all of the females in the room banded with elastics, except the teacher standing behind the box-like frame who had drawn cube number 3, the debreasted women, and the girls wearing milkers. Cheryl was already on her way back to him from the counter carrying a 6-inch diameter disk-like device in one hand and a sack of 8-inch-long strings with pre-tied slip knots at one end. Bill took the disk-like device from Cheryl, and then announced loudly, “Boys and girls, the purpose of the strings I tied to each of Miss Wilson’s nipples will become evident in a handful of minutes. Girl’s, in order to allow you to share Miss Wilson’s experience to the fullest extent possible, Cheryl will now be issuing each of you with two short lengths of string. I want you all to put the slip knot at the end of one of the strings around the bases of each of your nipples and pull the knots tight so that the string constricts around your nipples. Once again, this will cause no harm to your lovely chests.”

Cheryl once again demonstrated what the girls needed to do by taking two pieces of string out of the sack, placing the sack on the floor, and placing and pulling tight, one at a time, slip knots around the base of each of her nipples, and then jerked on the strings to make her D-cups jiggle. She again passed the strings out to the breasted, not-chosen-for-demonstration teachers first so that they could demonstrate putting their nipple strings on while the students watched, and then began passing out strings to the female students.

Bill, meanwhile, had placed the disk-shaped device on the floor between Penny’s widespread legs, turned it on, and adjusted the focus of a red beam of light that was now being emitted from the device. Bill stood and whispered to the bound teacher, “Penny, what I have placed on the floor between your legs is an orgasmatron beam emitter. Because of this device, you will probably find the next few minutes to be an experience you will remember fondly, rather than remorsefully. However, it might be a bit embarrassing as well, with the students watching. Especially during the next few seconds while I part your sex so I can make sure the beam is locked onto your clitoris, and at the end of the demonstration while you are climaxing. This is something we both have to do, so I’m just taking the chance to warn you. I’m not asking your preferences. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Jennings, I understand,” Penny replied, her voice cracking. “I would rather climax as I lose my breasts, in spite of being embarrassed before that happens, rather than go without. To be honest…if the students weren’t here…I would beg you to fuck me…while you’re popping my tits!”

“If the students were not here, Penny,” Bill Jennings replied in a serious tone, “you wouldn’t get a chance to beg. You are a gorgeous girl. But for the students, I’d have taken you once already, and would be doing so again after the demonstration begins.” Bill quickly kissed the bound teacher, knelt, deftly parted her labial lips with his right hand, and carefully focused the red laser light to a dot on the girl’s swollen clitoris, ignoring the loud giggling in the room behind him. The chore done, Bill engaged the device’s automatic tracking system, locking the pleasure beam the device would soon be emitting onto the target that was Penny’s sexual center.

“WOW!” Zatanna exclaimed in a low whisper that didn’t suppress the excitement in her voice. “This is quite a stage show. I’ve seen paid entertainers fail to match the performance that Bill and Cheryl are providing to these high school seniors.”

“Yes, our friends’ professionalism is very impressive,” Sue agreed, nodding her head as she watched Bill recheck the alignment of orgasmatron beam emitter with the position of Penny’s clitoris as she moved her hips. “I wonder if Bill’s purpose here today is as obvious to the students as it is to me?”

“You mean, Sue…you wonder if the girls are aware that this is a recruitment pitch…what do they call it on television…an infomercial?” Janet whispered in a cynical tone. “Some of them surely will recognize this as self-serving propaganda! However, that said, I bet many of these girls end up visiting Final Fantasy not too long after they graduate.”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I meant, Janet,” Sue replied softly in a voice that carried obvious disapproval. “A lot of these girls’ breasts are going to end up in the Final Fantasy larder!”

Zatanna chuckled softly at Sue’s seemingly irrational contempt, given the fact that Sue herself was going to visit Final Fantasy and play the booth game for her third time Friday night. The magic-wielding heroine decided not to rub the inconsistency into Sue’s face, and simply pointed out, “It’s not just the students that are being persuaded by this slick pitch, Sue. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see one or more of the three teachers who will be leaving the dairy still carrying breasts on their chests at Final Fantasy Friday night.”

Actually, I hope you’re right, Zatanna!” Janet replied wearing a wicked grin on her face. “If one of them does show up,” the spunky heroine said in a barely audible whisper, “I hope it is Mariko’s friend Helen, and I hope she takes a booth early enough in the evening for us to sic Black Canary on her. Those D-cups of hers would make fine first sandwiches! You did tell Dinah that she was going to be expected to join the debreasting club by taking another girl’s set before getting her own balloons popped, didn’t you?”

“Sure did, Janet,” Zatanna replied with laughter in her voice. “Dinah actually seemed to be quite enamored with the prospect of poaching another girl’s breasts.”

Sue glanced over to her milk-storage container and, after noting that there was now more than two liters of her bluish-white fluid stored in it, suddenly asked, “How are everyone’s breasts holding up? I still seem to be jetting bountifully!”

“I’m still going strong too, Sue,” Janet replied softly. “The science behind lactation-inducing drugs seems to have improved over the centuries.”

“Yes, you’re right, Janet,” Zatanna agreed with a giggle. “I expect I’ll still be strapped into these milkers for another couple of hours. How are you doing, Wanda? You’ve been awful quiet. Are you angry with us for volunteering to do this day at the dairy?”

“I’m doing very well, my friends,” Wanda assured her fellow heroines, “although I promise to beat to a pulp any of you that are stupid enough to carry the formula for those injections back to our own time!” Wanda grinned as her three friends laughed and nodded in agreement. It wouldn’t do for 21^st Century villains to be equipped with Bill’s lactation-inducing drug formula.

“Actually, girls,” Wanda whispered in a slightly louder voice wearing a blush on her face, “I am quite enjoying these demonstrations. I might as well admit that I am getting quite turned on by what I am seeing, and I’m especially look forward to Bill’s demonstrating debreasting by razor wire loop on Penny using what is obviously the prototype for the booth option that Sue and I have both had used on us. My reason for admitting that…well…is that I might just climax…when Penny’s breasts come free. If the milk cows behind us start laughing…well…you will know why!”

Wanda’s three heroine friends laughed for a few seconds, watching her face grow progressively redder, before Sue admitted, “Yes, I’m finding this demonstration particularly sensual as well. I did enjoy the razor wire loops more than the double-cut lasers as a debreasting method. Additionally, I am also willing to admit that I wish my rape-o-matic was now operating. I’m not going to admit anything more. If the girls behind us laugh…Janet should tease Wanda…not me!”

Bill Jennings heard the heroines behind him laugh, and looked back to see Sue’s face begin to redden and noted that Wanda’s face was already beet red. He guessed what was troubling the girls, and smirked at them before he turned and caught Cheryl’s eyes as she looked up from watching the last girl knotting the strings to her nipples. Bill nodded to the heroines, before starting his presentation again, while Cheryl moved toward the milking stalls to provide for the heroines’ needs.

“Girls and boys, the device I have placed on the floor between Miss Wilson’s legs is an orgasmatron beam emitter,” Bill announced with a broad smile. “The debreasting booths at my nightclub have similar devices in them, and activate during the final minute of a booth game if the girl in the booth is lucky and gets to play the game without being asked to donate her breast bacon to the world food supply. If the girl does get the opportunity to accept a partial conversion and donate her unneeded breasts to the world food supply, she gets to experience an orgasmatron beam on her sex for the entire debreasting procedure. This makes the debreasting become a very erotic and memorable experience. If you hear Miss Wilson issue erotic sounds, just remember that it is the orgasmatron beam emitter that I am forcing her to submit to that is overwhelming her efforts at self control.”

“Now, when I start the demonstration in a few seconds, I want you girls to begin tugging on the strings tied to your nipples from time to time to feel what Miss Wilson’s nipples will feel at the end of the demonstration,” Bill continued over the giggles and excited chatter. “You can hold the ends of both strings in one hand if you wish or need to have one hand free. I also want you to concentrate on the tingling sensation that the elastic bands around the bases of your reddening breasts is causing your chests to feel, and think of how the tingling would intensify if the bands magically began to shrink to smaller and smaller sizes. I’m going to check with Miss Wilson, and see if she is ready to begin the demonstration now.”

Meanwhile, Cheryl had reached the side of Janet’s booth, and asked, “Miss Janet, you girls seem to be in a bit of discomfort, are you starting to run dry? Or is there something else you need me to help you with?”

“No, Cheryl, I’m still squirting away with no sign that the milk is going to stop flowing out of my tits anytime soon,” Janet replied with a silly grin on her face. “However, I am so glad you picked this time to check on us. Some of us, perhaps all of us, would like to have our sex machines turned on now. We are really getting turned on by you and Bill’s sexy stage act. Could you be a real heroine and help us out?”

“Yes, Miss Janet, I can help with that,” Cheryl replied after a brief giggle. “What speed would you like the plunger rod set at—fast, medium fast, medium, medium slow, or slow?”

“Medium slow with full penetration at the end of the stroke,” Janet replied with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Of course, Miss Janet,” Cheryl said laughingly. “All four machines were set up by Mr. Jennings to provide full penetration, and I’m not going to undo his work. The speed I can adjust though.” Cheryl adjusted the speed dial on Janet’s machine, turned it on, made sure it was properly penetrating the plucky girl’s sex, and moved to stand behind Sue.”

“Me too, Cheryl, and thank you VERY much!” Sue said, not waiting for the head waitress to ask. “Slow, but can I ask another favor. The head teacher said there was going to be a full conversion later, after the debreastings I assume. Can you turn our machines off before the death game starts? I don’t relish climaxing while watching a girl die!”

“I will try to accommodate your needs, Miss Sue,” Cheryl replied politely, “but the demonstrations must take precedence. If I don’t manage to find a chance to turn the sex machines off, you will just have to understand.” Cheryl adjusted the speed dial on Sue’s machine and hit the on switch. After being satisfied all was in order, the head waitress moved to stand behind Wanda.

“I’ll join my teammate in being machine raped at medium slow speed, Cheryl,” Wanda said with a chuckle. “I also second Sue’s request, but will understand if things don’t work out. Thanks again for your timely help.”

“You are most welcome, Miss Wanda,” Cheryl replied as she set the speed control on Wanda’s machine, moved the machine slightly closer to the girl’s sex and raised the angle of the plunger rod slightly when she noted after hitting the on switch that Wanda’s vagina wasn’t taking the entire rubber phallus with the machine’s initial position, and then moved to stand behind Zatanna.

“Yep, I’ll add my thanks, Cheryl,” Zatanna said with a smile. “Medium speed, please. I think I can take that setting for quite a while without ending up fully tamed.”

Cheryl laughed loudly before replying, “Yes, Miss Zatanna! Perhaps you ladies will all dare to try fast by the time the university field trip arrives. I would be curious to see what being ‘tamed’ by a sex machine does to a girl!” Cheryl set the speed dial, turned on, and checked the function of Zatanna’s rape-o-matic machine, before returning to her position behind the bar.

Bill Jennings, standing beside the tightly restrained Penny, had just finished making sure the teacher was prepared to accept her debreasting. She of course, having no alternative, had agreed she was ready and asked for Mr. Jennings to proceed with the demonstration she was part of. She wanted the students to learn as much as possible from her unlucky lottery pick.

“Miss Wilson, are you ready to proceed?” Bill asked loudly and calmly.

“I am, Mr. Jennings,” Penny replied loudly in the bravest tone she could muster.

“Are there any final questions, class, before we allow Miss Wilson to make her donation to the world food supply through partial conversion?” Mr. Jennings asked, looking around the room as he did so.

Billy held his hand up, and after Mrs. Ogsdale nodded, said, “This is making me really horny! Can I force one of the girls to make me cum?”

“Me too, Mrs. Ogsdale!” Samuel interjected. “In a few months, after graduation, we will be able to order girls to fulfill our needs anyhow. They might as well learn to start doing that now.”

“Billy and Samuel,” Mrs. Ogsdale replied sternly, “you know it is against school policy for sexual fraternization between students on school property or at school-organized events, such as this field trip. I simply can’t do what you ask. However, I want all of you students to enjoy and learn from this field trip, so, for reasons you will understand later, I am willing to bend the rules much farther than I would ever do normally. Mr. Jennings, on my authority and with me taking full responsibility, will you have your assistant, Cheryl, take matter in hands as this demonstration proceeds and provide for the two boys’ needs. I would greatly appreciate it!”

“Mrs. Ogsdale,” Bill Jennings began stammering red faced, “this is outrageous…I can’t…I won’t…the girl works for me…she isn’t my….”

“Actually, Mr. Jennings,” Cheryl interrupted her boss, “you could, just as any male with full adult status could order me to do so. However, although I would rather not do it, I will masturbate the boys without your asking me to do so. This will help both the boys and the girls understand the very sexy implications of watching or participating in debreastings at a nightclub like Final Fantasy.”

Cheryl moved from her position behind the counter to kneel on the floor between the two boys, and said, “Okay, you horny brats, unzip your flies and fish whatever you’re packing out of your pants. Let me see what I have to work with.”

Both boys immediately did as requested, with broad grins on their faces as they gazed down at the waitress’s massive D-cups and then at her clean-shaven pubic mound. Cheryl was pleased to see that both boys were fairly well hung and already erect. Cheryl handed the free end of one of her nipple strings to each boy, which string depending naturally on the boy’s position, and said, “Here, jiggle me from time to time, like the other girls are doing for themselves, but you better keep in mind that, if you pull hard enough to cause me pain, I’ll bend your penis until it breaks.” Cheryl made a couple of gentle strokes with her hands, one hand on each boy’s manhood, up and down the stiff shafts to test the boys’ reactions, and then said, “I’m going to do this slowly, with plenty of long pauses between hand stroking, assuming you both want the one splort each you’re going to get from me to come as your lovely teacher’s breasts come free of her chest.”

Both boys nodded emphatically with glazed over eyes and twisted their bodies in attempts to aim the mess they would shortly be making at Cheryl’s ample bosom. Cheryl frowned at this prospect, but her frown softened as Barbara suddenly knelt in front of her, between the two boys who were slightly in front and on either side of the waitress, and the boys readjusted their aims to the lovely student’s large, firm D-cups. They stared in awe as the girl gently giggled her massive, but perfectly shaped breasts by pulling on her nipple strings.

“All right, girls, and both of you boys, I want all eyes up front now!” Bill Jennings commanded loudly. “Miss Wilson can only donate her lovely breasts in the name of your education once, so I want you to give this momentous event in her teaching career and life the attention it deserves. Shall we do this, Miss Wilson?” Bill asked calmly and loudly.

“Yes, Mr. Jennings, I would like to get this demonstration started, and do hope my fantastic students will watch carefully and learn as much as possible,” Penny replied, this time without the slightest hint of fear or nervousness in her voice. “As this is going to be my first and only try at this, can I have the lowest tension setting needed to get the job done, so that I can enjoy the pleasure beams, at the maximum intensity please, for as long as possible.” In truth, Penny Wilson was deeply afraid and crestfallen at her bad luck. She treasured and was quite prideful of her large breasts and the effect they had on the men in her world. She enjoyed having her breasts gently rubbed and suckled by her bed partners, male and female alike. Still, she had long fantasized about the day she would be debreasted, and was determined to make the most of the experience.

“I had already planned on using that setting for the tension control, Miss Wilson,” Bill Jennings replied loudly enough for the students to hear. Then he announced, “However, the orgasmatron beam setting will begin at minimum, and will be stepped up an increment every ten seconds. Don’t worry, though, Miss Wilson. You will experience the pleasure beams on maximum for quite some time before the demonstration is over.” Bill leaned in and whispered, “Penny, this process is going to take a handful of minutes. If I start you with the setting on maximum, you will be far from coherent when I send you back to the students. We don’t want that do we?”

“No, of course not, Mr. Jennings,” Penny whispered back. “We need to maintain the proper decorum. However, can we please get on with this? I’m afraid I might lose my nerve if we don’t.” Penny stared down at the bases of her breasts, and then out into the audience. As was often the case in her life, she was the center of attention. Most everyone’s eyes were focused on her doomed breasts. She was determined to be seen accepting her fate bravely.

Bill nodded and announced, “Okay, class, I am now going to turn up the tension on the retraction cables and let the machine start tightening the razor wire loops around Miss Wilson’s breasts. Then I’ll kneel and activate the orgasmatron beam projector between your teacher’s feet. After that, don’t be distracted as I place a small, red, square of cloth on the floor in front of Miss Wilson.” Bill twisted the tension control dial clockwise to a pre-marked position, knelt, flicked the orgasmatron beam emitter on and adjusted the intensity dial to the auto-increase setting, and walked toward the counter to take care of one of Cheryl’s tasks as part of this demonstration. He winked at his head waitress as he passed her, fully realizing that slowly masturbating two boys during the demonstration was not part of her job description.

Bill retrieved a small, rectangular, blood-red cloth from under the counter, and walked back to stand before and to one side of Penny so that he could spread the cloth on the floor in front of the teacher under the vertically hanging cables without obstructing the class’s view. Then he walked behind and to one side of the box-like frame so he wasn’t obstructing the milk cows’ views either, and said loudly, “The cable will slowly continue to tighten the razor wire until the wire is deeply imbedded in the indentation around Miss Wilson’s breasts. When the pressure of Miss Wilson’s skin against the spring clips holding the razor wire into loop form gets high enough, the spring clips will pop off and fall to the floor. By that time, the indentations into your teacher’s breasts will be enough to hold the wire into place in loop form, and the clips would not be serving a needed function, even if they were still there.”

Penny moaned softly as pleasure slowly began to grow in her loins as a result of the pleasure beam bathing her sex. She could feel the wire slowly constricting around the bases of her breasts, but there was not yet a hint of discomfort in either fleshy orb. She looked out to her students, and felt pride at the attention they were giving her spread-eagled form.

The dairy grew silent, save for the hum of the milkers and the sound of heavy breathing as all eyes were riveted on Penny Wilson, and the thin wire slowly compressing the bases of her reddening breasts. Cheryl occasionally used her hands to stroke the turgid phalli of the boys in front of her. The female students tugged occasionally on their nipple strings, most of them with both strings in one hand, while their other hands alternated between rubbing their own tingling and reddening breasts and dipping downward to slip between their own moist labial lips. Most of the teachers had turned their bodies so they could watch Penny’s ordeal with their backs to the students; this way their wards could not see the teachers’ own roaming fingers. The four heroines in the milking stalls were quietly enjoying being machine fucked while their breasts were being machine milked as they watched the teacher accept her debreasting with great composure. Then the silence was interrupted with the sound of tinkling metal, and the room was filled with gasps.

“That was the sound of the spring clips popping off the razor wire,” Mr. Jennings explained matter-of-factly. “Now the tension on the cables pulling on the ends of Miss Wilson’s razor wire loops will be increasing in even smaller increments as the debreasting device tries to match the tension on the razor wire with the shear resistance of Miss Wilson’s breast skin.”

Penny took a deep breath and issued an inaudible sigh. Her sex was glowing with pleasure now, and her breasts were starting to tingle as the constricting wire began to interfere with their blood supply. The seconds passed slowly as the razor wire slowly continued to contract, and then the contraction suddenly stopped. Penny instinctively knew why—the debreasting machine’s sensors had calculated that the tension had found the match Mr. Jennings had spoken of. Penny’s face briefly filled with fear and dread, and she could see the girls from her school begin fidgeting nervously as they read her emotions.

“It’s all right, class,” Penny said loudly in a cracking voice. “I still feel fine. I’m not hurting and the pleasure beams are very nice. Sometimes you have an overwhelming sense of self-preservation…even for the preservation of unneeded body parts…breasts…and you must force yourself to be brave and overcome this reaction…so that you can enjoy your partial conversion as much as possible. Actually, I am very proud to be making this demonstration for you, my students. Watch and learn well.” Penny smiled her sexiest smile, and then returned her attention to her breasts and vulva.

The seconds passed slowly, the erotic heat in Penny’s loins growing ever stronger, until, finally the teacher felt an itchy sensation at the bases of her purplish breasts. That told her that something was happening due to the slow strangulation of her breasts by the thin wire, but she wasn’t sure what that ‘something’ was. Then she heard the female students begin gasping and chattering in excitement. She could see some of the girls pointing at her breasts, while other girls checked their own reddened breasts with looks of concern on their faces. Penny could see Cheryl digging her thumbs into the glandes of the two boys’ penises as they jerked excitedly on her nipple strings while they stared at their teacher’s tortured breasts; the waitress was trying to get the boy’s erections under control lest they ejaculate while Miss Wilson still carried breasts on her chest.

Penny heard one of the volunteer milk cows, the auburn-haired girl with huge breasts, sigh three times in sexual climax. The teacher looked over to the milking stalls, and could see that all four of the girls being machine raped were staring at her breasts with looks of fascination on their faces. Then she felt some liquid trickle down her rib cage below her breasts, and she knew immediately that it wasn’t drops of sweat. It was then that it truly dawned on Penny that the itchy sensation she had felt was caused by her skin being parted by the razor wire, and that the thin loops were now slicing into her prized breast meat. ‘Oh, GOD!’ she thought, ‘this is really happening to me. My D-cups are being popped! I’m being debreasted in front of my students!’ Penny’s face reddened as these the thoughts drove her over the edge, and she issued a low, staccato sigh as the orgasmatron beam forced her to orgasm.

Penny grinned sheepishly at her class, and then stared back down to the bases of her purpled breasts. Now she could see the thin crevasse that circled the bases of her breasts, which had now un-balled to resume their natural conical shape, the evidence that was left from the wire loop that was being buried into her breast meat. The teacher could see some red, blood, but not much of it. Her breasts were burning now from the pain that the razor wire was causing as it slowly killed her breasts, but the pain was still manageable. Penny could see looks of concern on many of her students’ faces, and sought to lessen their concern by quipping, “Jeese, Mr. Jennings, if I’d known how cool these orgasmatron beams felt, I’d have been one or your regular customers years ago!”

Penny smiled as many of the girls giggled and dropped hands to crotches. The teacher said in a more serious tone, “Students, I am feeling pain in my breasts now, but they don’t hurt terribly. The pleasure beams from the orgasmatron beam will, I think, reach full intensity soon, so don’t think badly of me if I cum a lot. I want to take this last opportunity to admit I didn’t want to lose my breasts just yet, but to also tell you that I am proud to be having this partial conversion as an educational opportunity for you, my wonderful students. Over the next few minutes, please don’t be concerned if my moans seem to be carrying the sounds of pain, and please don’t have too much fun laughing when I issue other sounds as the pleasure beam forces climax after climax upon me. I’ll shut up now…just enjoy watching my balloons get popped.”

Penny grinned broadly at the class as most of the students started applauding, and then she gasped as the pain she was experiencing abruptly increased in intensity. The teacher guessed that the razor wire loops had sliced deeply enough into her breasts to reach the corridor of nerves leading to her sensitive nipples. Fortunately, she didn’t have long to think about the increased pain, for the intensity of the orgasmatron beams was suddenly increased to maximum, stealing a second orgasm from the teacher’s loins. Penny’s face reddened again. She could feel her juices dripping from her vulva for all to see.

Penny stared again down to the bases of her pain-ridden breasts, and could see that the crevasse was very deep now. The teacher tried to wiggle her chest, and could tell her breasts were quite loose. She guessed that there was about another one-inch diameter of breast core left to be severed by the razor wire loop before her balloons were fully deflated, and she became a breastless woman. She imagined her breasts dropping away from her chest, and she climaxed again.

Penny grinned red-faced at the class in front of her and enjoyed the looks of fascination that filled her students’ faces. She looked out to the two boys and Cheryl, and nodded downward to her breasts. Her grin widened as she watched the waitress begin to work earnestly at masturbating the two penises she held in her hands. She heard staccato sighs being issued from two of the volunteer milk cows in the sex machines, the smaller breasted auburn-haired girl and the raven-haired girl with big boobs, and then she heard herself sighing as she joined them in orgasm.

Penny continued to moan in orgasm, until she gasped in surprise as her breasts suddenly dropped away as the razor wire loops became fully closed and wires were pulled straight and taut, held in a horizontal position against her chest wounds. The teacher couldn’t take her eyes off her breasts, falling as if in slow motion, until they finally had pulled the string tied to the nipples tight and the breasts swung outward over the red cloth meant to keep the small drops of blood falling from the severed breasts from being obvious. Penny looked out to the class, and watched as the girls yanked on their nipple strings, trying to imagine their own breasts dangling over a red cloth at the end of a string.

Penny grinned in spite of the agony emanating from her chest as she watched the two boys finally surrender to Cheryl’s masturbation, as they watched her dangling breasts with widened eyes and open mouths; they seemed to be hardly aware that they were both spraying copious amounts of their seed over Barbara’s neck and breasts as she yanked on her nipple strings and stared the swaying breasts and her teacher’s flattened chest. Penny heard moans of ecstasy coming from all four of the volunteer milk cows simultaneously, and then she heard herself join them as one more, long, continuous climax washed through her loins and mind. All she could think was, ‘Popped…I really got my balloons popped…no more big tits to tease the boys with…my big boobs have been poached…they are nothing but bacon now…,’ and then her mind became numb as the world around her became hazy.

Cheryl pumped her hands over the boys penises a few last times to make sure they were completely done ejaculating—living up to her motto, ‘if a girl’s going to agree to do something, she might as well go for it all the way and do it right’—and then jumped up and raced to her counter. She quickly cleaned her hands with sanitizing liquid, dried them with a towel, picked up three wet washcloths and another towel, ran to where the boys still stood with dumbfounded looks on their faces, passed the towel and one washcloth to Barbara, passed the other washcloths to the boys, raced back to her counter, picked up another wet washcloth and two chest bandages, and raced toward Penny.

Meanwhile, Bill had already turned the retracting motor off, and released the two reel locks so that he could get some slack in the cables. He released the outer snap-hook clasps from the cable ends, and tossed the two razor wire lengths and attached sternum pad to the floor inside the box-like frame. Bill finally knelt and turned off the orgasmatron beam emitter, and carefully picked up and placed the disk-shaped device on the floor inside the frame. Bill then went to work untying Penny’s ankle twines.

Cheryl dodged around the dangling, still swinging, breasts and red cloth on the floor below them to get to a position in front of Penny. She carefully cleaned the blood, not that there was a lot of it, from the teacher’s chest wounds and abdomen, and then carefully bandaged the girl’s circular wounds with the white circular chest bandages. While blocking the students’ views as best she could, Cheryl knelt, blushed beet red, and began using the wet washcloth on Penny’s wet vulva and inner thighs.

Meanwhile, Bill was busy untying the twine from Penny’s wrists. As the second wrist was freed, Bill whispered as he steadied the girl holding her right arm, “Are you still with us, Penny? Your students may soon begin to worry about you.”

Penny suddenly shook her head, realizing she was being addressed, and then nodded, before whispering, “Yes, sorry! My goodness, these bandages do work fast. I don’t feel much pain at all now. You can let go of me now. I can stand okay.”

Bill stepped aside, freeing Penny of his support, and watched as Cheryl re-engaged the reel locks, collected the four lengths of twine, razor wire and attached sternum pad, and orgasmatron beam emitter, and carried the equipment back to her counter. Bill watched carefully, ready to jump in and steady the girl, as the teacher took a shaky step forward.

Penny Wilson smiled to the students that were looking at her with both fascination and respect evident in their faces. Many of the girls were still pulling on their nipple strings, and the two boys had finally put away their privates. Barbara was just finishing cleaning the ejaculate off her buxom body.

The young teacher reached out and pinched the strings attached to the nipples of the severed breasts before her with her thumbs and forefingers, lifted the fleshy orbs higher into the air, and said, “I, your teacher, Penny Wilson, have donated these breasts that I was once so proud of to the world-wide food chain. Now I am even prouder, for in undergoing my partial conversion this day, I have begun to fulfill my principal duty as a girl. Let it be clear, that I am still proud of these fleshy orbs before me, for I know they are going to make really tasty breast bacon sandwiches for some lucky Final Fantasy customers. Let it also be clear, that, in the end, I really enjoyed my partial conversion. If I could re-grow my breasts right now, I think I would go ahead and get them popped again, right here and now, so that you, my students, could watch me have fun a second time.” Everyone in the room applauded and roared with approval, much to Penny’s obvious delight. When the noise finally subsided, Penny grinned and yelled, “Next!”

Chapter 6. Painful Lessons Are Not Soon Forgotten

Wanda gasped loudly, fighting for control over her own libido, desperately wanting the long climax, which the sight of Penny’s breasts dropping from and then swinging away from the teacher’s quivering chest as her razor wire loop snapped taut had ripped from the heroine’s loins, to end. In truth, the auburn-haired beauty was embarrassed to be seen climaxing in front of the class of high school seniors before her, as her fluids were milked from her ample breasts. With the rape machine still busily thrusting the thick, long rubber phallus in and out of her sopping wet vagina, Wanda was worried that she wouldn’t manage to regain her composure, but somehow she did. “God…that was…hot!” Wanda whispered as she realized all three of her friends were looking at her.

“Yes, it was surprisingly erotic to watch,” Sue replied, blushing at her own words. “Not that I can really understand why I would feel that way. A few weeks ago, I’m sure the very idea of something like that happening to a girl would have made me quite sick to my stomach!”

“Coming to this century, living within this culture’s society and taking on their ways and customs, is changing us,” Zatanna said softly. “I fear those changes are not necessarily for the better.”

“Yes, Zatanna’s right!” Sue spat emotionally. “One of those changes has been bothering me a lot. I’m really struggling to get my head around the fact that we are actually coming to this time zone to intentionally have pain and damage inflicted on our bodies. That just seems wrong, even if we do have the means to repair that damage. I mean, because we have the Chula nanogene tissue regenerator, I could understand myself wanting to see what being debreasted was like just once…my stated intention on our first field trip to the future. But it has gone beyond that…for all of us…has it not?”

Wanda blushed beet red. She knew Sue was right. She also knew that, in the end, she was responsible. She had organized that first field trip. “I have to admit the truth in your words, Sue and Zatanna,” Wanda whispered softly, the desperation that she was beginning to feel evident in her tone. “However, I don’t know what to do about it. I, for one, don’t wish to stop coming here anytime soon!”

“Yep,” Janet chortled softly, “this place is changing me too! I’m even more of a pain slut than I ever was before. Let’s give this some thought, without anyone even considering canceling on Friday night. If I don’t get to see the guys get the chop, I’m going to be very unhappy, and if they do take one for the team, we owe it to them to let them watch us get our balloons popped.”

“Oh, I’ll not miss out on watching two heroes get emasculated by a penis guillotine, Janet!” Zatanna replied with a giggle. “However, while I promise to offer my boobs to the bacon poachers as many times as it takes to get myself debreasted for those heroes’ viewing pleasure afterwards, that attitude just underscores the problem that is bothering me, and I think Sue as well. We aren’t adopting this culture’s ways and customs, we are letting our own backgrounds and interests push the limits of those customs farther than they were ever meant to be taken. Only a small percentage of the girls in this society would ever consider risking her breasts over and over again all night long. Heck, even that college sorority, Gamma Gamma Epsilon, only made their sorority candidates do three stints in a booth as part of their sorority initiation night ritual. Most of the girls visiting Final Fantasy only do one booth stint, to get the free drinks and one nice climax, and implement the best strategies they can think of to leave the booth in the same condition they entered it!”

“Yes, Zatanna has laid out that issue better than I ever could,” Sue said with a smile. “However, there is another thing that is bothering me. Without being specific, there are a lot of things wrong with this world. We are heroines! We should be working to right those wrongs! Well some of them at least. I realize we aren’t going to be leading some revolution to free the female gender from the unpleasant role they have inherited, giving this time period’s very real challenges.”

Wanda sighed softly, and frowned, before admitting, “Your points are well taken, both of them, Sue. Janet’s right, let’s give this some thought. However, as Cheryl has collected the rubber bands and strings from the female students and breasted teachers and removed the bands and strings from her own reddened breasts, and Bill has retracted the cables into their respective spoolers, it looks like the next demonstration is about to get underway. Why don’t we just enjoy the show, our machine rapes, and,” Wanda glanced to her milk-storage container and saw that there was more than two-and-a-half liters of her milk in it, “see if we can reach the three liter mark. By then I’m sure we will have some solutions to discuss!” Wanda smiled again as her friends laughed and nodded.

“Okay, girls and boys, let’s have your attention again as we begin your third debreasting demonstration before your classmate gets to demonstrate her courage,” Mr. Jennings announced loudly as he used the remote controller to cause the ceiling cables to retract. He watched as Cheryl carried Penny’s severed breasts and the red cloth square back to the bar, and then diligently began cleaning the large bacon lumps with a wet washcloth. Soon the waitress set Penny’s D-cups nipples up on the cloth-covered tray that already held Mariko’s C-cups in the same position.

Bill turned his attention back to the other side of the room, and the blonde who had drawn the cube with the number 3 on it, and ordered, “Step to the front of the box-like frame, Miss.” Bill watched as the girl immediately moved to stand in the same place her fellow teacher, Penny, had stood, before being debreasted. The blonde still had the silly grin on her face, but her blue eyes gleamed alertly under her short hair cut from a lovely, impish face. The only sign of nervousness, was the girl’s tendency to continually finger the thick, erect nipples on one breast and then the other, while she sought to cover the obviously moist vulva under her blonde landing strip with her other hand.

“There isn’t any reason to be nervous, Miss,” Bill said softly with a look of encouragement. “You’ve already seen two of your peers serve in demonstrations for the students, and they are standing before you with their students not looking too unhappy. Now, tell us your name and the subject you teach at school.”

“My name is Samantha Sorensen, Mr. Jennings, and I teach senior-grade history,” the blonde said, the silly look finally becoming a proud smile. “I guess if I appear to be just a little nervous, it is because you said the debreasting methods will get more intricate and more painful as we go along. Well, I’m last and the other girls’ debreastings didn’t appear to be particularly painless.”

“No, they didn’t, did they?” Bill replied matter-of-factly. “However, the pain is only temporary, and pain has to be borne with as much dignity as possible when there is simply no avoiding having it thrust upon you. I can tell you’ll bear the pain that will soon be thrust upon you with great dignity, Samantha. Tell me, Miss Sorensen, what is your specialty in history and your favorite century to study?”

“My specialty is what is now known as Ancient History, Mr. Jennings,” Samantha replied softly, no hint of the nervousness her hands indicated she felt in her sexy voice. “I did my Master’s thesis on 15^th to 18^th Century European History focusing on Spain.”

“I know of the period,” Mr. Jennings replied with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m a bit of a history buff myself, although I’m most interested in Early Modern History, the 20^th and the 21^st Centuries specifically. Let’s see, 15^th to 18^th Century Spain. Isn’t that period best known for The Inquisition, Miss Sorensen?”

“Yes it is, Mr. Jennings,” Samantha replied with widening grin. “That was one of the darker periods of human history, and there was much suffering by men and women alike.”

“Indeed, Miss Sorensen,” Mr. Jennings replied softly. “How were women who were perceived to have broken society’s laws punished in that age of cruelty? What is, in your opinion, the worst punishment that could be inflicted upon a girl, short of death, during that period of history?”

“The first thing that comes to mind is having the breast ripper used on a girl’s chest, Sir,” Samantha replied with a giggle. “I don’t know—they had lots of nasty torture techniques. Perhaps that one popped into my head because of where we are and what we have been doing.”

“What is a breast ripper, and why was it such a terrible thing to have been used on a girl during that time period?” Mr. Jennings asked pleasantly. He was happy to see the interest and excitement on the teacher’s pretty face.

“The breast ripper basically consisted of a long pair of metal tongs with two curved claws on the end of each tong arm, projecting inward from either side of each arm,” Samantha said, a look of concentration on her face as she tried to visualize the tool and its use. “When the claws, which usually had very sharp points but dull edges, were closed together they were perpendicular to the tong arms. Basically, the torturer pushed the underside of the tong claws, sometimes after they were heated red hot, against the girl’s chest so that the open claws were positioned either side of one of her breasts. Then he squeezed the tong arms together with his hand, driving the four claws into the base of the girl’s breast. Then the torturer viciously twisted and rotated the claws, first one direction and then the other, before yanking back to tear the mutilated flesh from the girl’s chest. For some crimes, only one of the girl’s breasts got ripped, for other crimes, both of them. In the end, it usually didn’t matter. Usually, the wounds became infected, and the girl died days or weeks after her torture.”

“You did a wonderful job with that description, Miss Sorensen,” Mr. Jennings said in a sincere tone. “Your students should be very proud of you. Tell me, how are women who are perceived to have broken modern society’s laws punished, Samantha?”

“The fate of a modern girl who commits a serious crime or affront to society is no less dire today than it was during The Inquisition, Mr. Jennings,” Samantha replied, beaming with pride from Mr. Jennings compliment. “Today, they dock such girls! Her nipples are clipped from the tips of her breasts, one breast at a time, and then her clitoral glans is stretched out of its cavity and snipped off. This is a serious deterrent to crime!”

“Indeed, Miss Sorensen,” Bill replied, nodding his head. “Well, now that you seem a bit more relaxed, shall we get you ready for your demonstration?”

“Sure, Mr. Jennings,” Samantha replied with the silly grin returning to her face, “I might as well get this over with. I think I’ll be a lot more relaxed now that you’ve had me describe some much more terrible fates that a girl could be made to suffer through, than the debreastings we witnessed earlier.”

“Good for you, Miss Sorensen,” Bill replied with a chuckle. “Okay, we are going to start out by tying your ankles to the frame’s lower corners, just as we did with Penny. You can hold onto the frame posts to keep your balance if you need to.” Bill knelt, pushed the teacher’s left leg wide until he could use a length of twine from his pants pocket to tie her left ankle to the bottom of the right forward-corner vertical frame post. Then he swiveled to reach for Samantha’s right ankle, intentionally allowing his forehead to brush across the hair of the teacher’s landing strip. As the girl blushed above him, Bill pushed her right leg wide and secured her right ankle to the bottom of the left forward-corner vertical frame post.

“There, that wasn’t too troubling, was it, Samantha,” Bill whispered quietly to help keep the teacher calm. Bill stepped into the frame, took a position behind Samantha, and warned, “Okay, now I’m going to use twine to tie your wrists together, behind your back. Then, I think it’s best to tie your arms together with twine just above your elbows. This will cause your breasts to jut out nicely, giving us more tit to work with later. Be careful to keep your balance while I’m doing this, won’t you, Samantha?”

“Yes Sir, Mr. Jennings,” Samantha replied blushing as Bill went to work on her wrists. “I’m sorry my A-cups don’t provide much breast to work with, Sir.” If truth be known, having to show the students her diminutive breasts was the worst part of this field trip experience for the blonde.

After Bill had finished tying the girl’s elbows together, he grunted and said, “You’re A-cups are just fine, Samantha. I value every girl’s breasts, and yours are tipped with some of the thickest nipples I have ever had the good fortune to gaze at. I see they are very turgid too! I think you will have a memorable experience during the demonstration we are preparing for your students. I think the class, especially the girls, will learn much from the demonstration as well. Just two more ropes, and I’ll start addressing the class. Bill quickly tied twine around the teacher’s left upper arm, just under her arm pit, and secured the other end of the twine taut to the eye bolt that protruded forward out of the adjacent vertical post. He quickly used another length of twine to tightly secure the girl’s right upper arm to the other eye bolt.

Bill tested Samantha’s restraints, and when he was sure she was secured tightly enough that she could not avoid the instruments he planned to use on her, he turned and began addressing the students who had been patiently looking on, saying, “We will get started with this third demonstration momentarily, girls and boys. First, let’s talk about what we learned in the first two demonstrations.”

“Miss Nakamura helped show you what it is like to make a partial donation in a way that is commonly used by a butcher at a store or a butcher shop, although cutting boards are sometimes used to remove a girl’s breasts in other venue’s as well,” Bill said softly and in a calm tone. “It is a debreasting method that is commonly used on a girl donating her breasts in exchange for money, usually not a lot of money I’m afraid. However, it could also be used on a girl as the penalty for losing an interesting game or gamble, as it was the case with my late wife. How many of you girls thought that being debreasted on the cutting board table looked like a fun way to make a partial donation to the world-wide food chain?” Bill smiled as Mariko raised her hand, but few of the other girls raised theirs.

Bill smiled broadly before continuing with, “Miss Wilson made her partial donation in a more complicated setting, using the type of device that you would find at a venue such as a debreasting booth nightclub—such as my own nightclub, Final Fantasy. In this type of venue, the partial donation may or may not be intentional. Most of the girls using these venues are using the debreasting booth games as a way to get free drinks and pleasure beam doses as they party with their friends. Some of the girls get to enjoy hundreds of pleasurable nights and thousands of free drinks by taking the gamble and accompanying thrill of knowing their breasts are in danger of being donated to the world-wide food chain if another girl or man covets their bacon, but hoping they will get their pleasure beam dose and return home at the end of the night breasted. There is the possibility that a girl will never lose a booth game before she wins The Lottery and becomes part of the world-wide food chain that way; on rare occasions, I have had customers get their debreast buttons pushed and their donations accepted into the world-wide food chain the first time they risk partial conversion in a booth game.”

Bill smiled a reassuring smile and asked, “Based on Miss Wilson’s demonstration, how many of you girls thought that being debreasted in a complicated debreasting machine equipped with an orgasmatron beam emitter looked like a fun way to make a partial donation to the world-wide food chain?” Bill smiled as Penny raised her hand high, followed by the three breasted teachers who had not been selected to be part of demonstrations, and then by most of the girls in the class.

“Can I ask, Helen, sorry, I didn’t catch your last name, have you ever visited a debreasting club?” Bill asked with a twinkle in his eyes. If his luck went well, his pitch would gain momentum, and then be cinched with the next demonstration.

“No, Sir, Mr. Jennings, and my last name is, Thomas,” Helen answered softly. “To be honest, until today, I really didn’t know about the cool things those venues have to offer. I will say that, after today, I am interested in finding out more. You can be pretty sure I’m going collect on these drink tickets your waitress gave me earlier some night soon. I’m not sure I’ll try a booth game though. I want to see how things work before I make up my mind about that!”

“As well you should, Helen,” Bill said with a reassuring tone. “What about you students? Do any of you see yourself visiting such a venue after you graduate from East High? Actually, I already know you boys will be stopping by after you graduate from your earlier comments, so let’s leave this one to the girls.”

Barbara threw her arm up, and after Mrs. Ogsdale nodded, exclaimed, “Actually, my sister and her friends are taking me to your nightclub, Final Fantasy, on graduation night! We will be celebrating my dad’s posting of my dowry announcement in all of the advertising channels the next day. I’m hoping to get some nice marriage offers from some pretty wealthy men! I won’t be risking my marriage in a booth game, but I bet some of my sister’s friends do. They are nice enough girls, but I think it would be fun to get to see at least one of them get their bacon poached!”

“Interesting, Barbara, I hope things go well for you,” Mr. Jennings said with a chuckle. “If your father’s dowry is large enough, I’m sure you’ll be a papered woman in no time at all. If you wish, have him send me the dowry announcement, and I’ll have it posted at a social club I belong to. It’s called Club X. Hell, I’m single again! Maybe I’ll submit my marriage proposal to your father!” This brought a grin from Barbara and laughter from most of the field-trip participants.

“Okay, back to business,” Bill said matter-of-factly. “There is one more type of situation in which a partial conversion might end up in the donation of a girl’s breast bacon, most likely for private consumption. This would at a private party or private club house. In this type of situation, a girl willing to risk making a donation, as the price for losing a game or gamble, may not be getting the type of partial conversion she was hoping for. There is no business license to regulate what happens in a private party or private club house, like there is at a nightclub, store, or butcher’s shop. In other words, a girl could end up in a situation where she has no control over what happens to her. As a parent, with mostly girls as children, this scenario is my greatest nightmare.”

“Miss Sorensen, may I respectfully ask that you help me demonstrate this type of scenario to your students?” Bill Jennings asked softly, but firmly. “Before you answer, I need you to understand that you will no longer have any inkling as to what might happen to you. In real life, such a scenario could lead to a total conversion instead of a partial one. If you say yes, you could be risking your life, or worse, but you could also end up saving the lives of some of your students!”

“Mr. Jennings,” Samantha began, the stupid grin again filling her face, a face that was now pallid, “I treasure my students’ lives…far greater than my own. I don’t want to die…here today… but…hell…my number is overdue to come up in The Lottery anyhow. I’ll gladly participate…in the scenario…whatever the consequences. However…students…you better pay full attention…and learn…this lesson…well!”

“Thank you for being so brave and dedicated to your profession, Miss Sorensen,” Bill Jennings said softly and calmly and loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “I’ll tell you up front, that your life won’t likely be in jeopardy as part of the demonstration I have planned. Still, you may not end up thanking me at the end of the demonstration.”

“Students, if you choose to risk a partial conversion at some private party or private club, for whatever inconceivable reason you might think of, you could end up restrained, as Miss Sorensen is,” Bill said as he walked over and stood beside the quivering teacher. “In such a situation, you could end up having the worst punishment imaginable forced upon you!”

Bill made a show of mauling Samantha’s breasts, one breast in each hand, and then he pulled on both of her thick, erect nipples, with his thumbs and forefingers until the teacher moaned at the pain he was inflicting on her. Then he turned back to the class and, after nodding to Cheryl behind her counter, asked, “What did Miss Sorensen select as the worst thing that could happen to a girl during the time of The Inquisition?”

“Getting her titties destroyed with a breast ripper!” called out one of the girls in the middle of the class. The class buzzed with excitement, and then as Cheryl began making her way from behind the counter to Mr. Jennings’ position holding something behind her back, many of the students began chattering excitedly or issuing gasps of surprise, and concern filled their faces.

Samantha began shaking, and glancing from the approaching Cheryl, to Bill, and back to Cheryl. Disbelief filled her eyes. She thought, ‘Surely I’m not going to have the instrument of torture that I spent so much time researching at university used on me! Good God! My thesis contains an entire chapter documenting what happened to girls as a breast ripper was used on them.’ She looked at Bill with pleading eyes, and shook her head negatively. Then she gasped when the big-breasted blonde handed her boss the impossible object, and began walking back to her counter.

Bill held the instrument out so the class could see it clearly, and then said softly, “As you see, girls and boys, Miss Sorensen’s description of the cruel device called a breast ripper was certainly very accurate.” Bill placed the claws against Samantha’s chest, two claws on each side of her right breast, and squeezed just enough to indent the skin of the breast in four places, generating a fearful moan from the teacher. Bill let the tong spring back open, and held the claws before the terrified teacher’s face, and said, “As you can see, Miss Sorensen, the only adjustment to the original design is in having both edges of each claw honed razor sharp! That will greatly improve the breast ripper’s function as a debreasting tool, while making less of a mess of the unlucky victim’s chest. However, you can relax, for now. Your students still have much to learn via this demonstration.” Bill suddenly hung the tong from its U-shaped termination at the beginning of its squeezable arms from the small peg on the inside of the forward right-corner vertical frame post on the left side of Samantha’s waist.

Bill watched and smiled as Samantha began gasping in relief as the terrible weapon of breast destruction was put aside, but seemed unable to take her eyes off of it as it hung beside her. Then he turned and nodded to Cheryl at her counter, before turning to the class and asking, “Now that we have seen the instrument of punishment used on girls who were perceived to have broken society’s rules during the ancient past, who can name the method of the punishment inflicted on a girl who breaks our modern society’s rules? I believe Miss Sorensen said a modern girl’s fate, if she was perceived to have broken our society’s rules, was just as dire as the ancient girl’s, and that this modern form of punishment is a serious deterrent to crime!”

Samantha began quaking with fear as she heard most of the students call out, almost in unison, “Dock! Modern girls get docked as their punishment!” The teacher stared out with a face filled with horror and dread as she watched Cheryl walk towards her, once again holding something behind her back, and she heard the gasps of surprise and horror from the students who could see what the blonde waitress was holding.

Then the teacher whined softly in abject terror as she watched Cheryl hand her boss the vacuum extractor, a large plastic syringe-looking device whose sole purpose was to stretch a girl’s clitoral glans out of its protective cavity and away from her hood. A girl’s neutering would start when the narrow tube at the bottom of the instrument was placed over her tiny organ and the air-tight gasket that started at the bottom of the larger vacuum tube was drawn upwards in the tube as the plunger at the opposite end was pulled outward. The malleable flesh that was a girl’s sexual center would be drawn by the vacuum into the narrow tube. Then, a tiny elastic compression ring would then be pushed off the tip of the narrow tube end to trap the clitoris in its stretched position, the vacuum would be released as the plunger was pushed forwards, and with a simple snip of small, sharp scissors, a girl’s sex life would come to an abrupt end. For Samantha, this was the worst nightmare she could imagine.

“No…please…PLEASE!” Samantha pleaded loudly in a high pitched whining voice. “Mr. Jennings…use the breast ripper…but don’t take my clit. My demonstration was supposed to be about debreasting techniques, not sexual nullification! Please, Sir, don’t end my sex life!”

Bill smiled and nodded as he stared deeply into the teacher’s fear-filled blue eyes, and then he turned back to the students and said, “Your teacher, Miss Sorensen, came on this field trip today with the knowledge that she might be required to make a partial donation to the world-wide food chain. She knew she might return home debreasted, just as a girl wagering her breasts at a private party or club would know. Now, however, your teacher realizes that things have gotten out of control, and the fate she suffers might be far worse than she signed up for. She is helpless to prevent that fate from being forced upon her, just as one of you girls might be at a private party or private club function. Not a good situation to find yourself in, is it Miss Sorensen?”

“No…Mr. Jennings…I’ve never felt so helpless…so terrified…in…my life!” Samantha stammered, her body visibly quaking in fear. “Please…PLEASE…have your…assistant…take the…vacuum extractor…away! Leave me…my clitoris…PLEASE!”

“The lesson we are trying to teach your students, Miss Sorensen, is that bad things happen when you risk partial conversion in an unregulated setting,” Mr. Jennings replied calmly but firmly. “You agreed to change your demonstration scenario to teach that lesson. I’m not sure it would be a convincing lesson if I failed to carry through with this demonstration. Still, I will have Cheryl return the vacuum extractor to its place behind the counter.” Bill handed the syringe-like device back to his head waitress and, along with a much relieved Samantha, watched Cheryl walk back towards her counter.

“Students, in the real world, bad things can happen to an unwary girl very quickly and without warning,” Bill said softly and calmly. “Docking tubes and vacuum extractors were developed by our government to punish girls who break our society’s rules, and were not meant to become toys used to harm girls who end up in helpless situations at private parties or private club events. As you have just seen, I have a vacuum extractor, several actually, even though I am not a government official. Such devices are actually easy to come by, as are docking tubes, and you never know which man, or even which girl, might possess such toys.”

Bill pulled a small, four-inch-long, one-inch-diameter silver tube out of his left pocket, and held it up for the class to see it, and said, “This is a docking tube. It is a very simple mechanism. As you can see there is a small sliding button on one side of the tube that is meant to be worked with a thumb. The front of the tube consists of two half-circle-shaped pieces of metal that when closed, seal the end of the tube. The half-circles of thin metal, hinged to the tubes at the upper point of their arc, are, in fact, razor blades. If you push back on the sliding button, a sturdy spring in the base of the tube is compressed as attachments connected to the blade hinges cause the hinges to rotate and the blades to open outward and upward.” Bill slide the button back and then held the tube forward so that the class could see that the barrel of the tube was now open and that the half-circle blades were now parallel to the tube barrel rather than perpendicular to it. He let loose of the sliding button, and the blades suddenly closed with a loud snap, startling most everyone in the room. “Let go of the sliding button, and the compressed spring is released and snaps the blades closed as they are rotated downward and inward.”

“As I said, you never know which man or woman might have one of these toys these days,” Bill said softly, as he turned from the class to a pallid Samantha. “I’ve had this one in my pocket the whole time the class has been here. And if you are in a helpless situation at a private party or private club where you were expecting that the worst thing that could happen to you was the partial conversion you were willing to risk, you might find that someone at the party might have a docking tube too, and decide to give you the punishment meant for someone who had committed a serious crime.”

Bill held the tube before and tilted towards Samantha’s face, and watched her face fill with terror as he pushed back on the sliding button, pulling the docking blades open. He allowed the blades to slowly rotate closed as she watched shivering in fear, and then he slowly lowered the business end of the tube to the thick, turgid tips of the teacher’s A-cups. He slowly circled the erect nipples one breast at a time while he watched Samantha tremble with trepidation and pull on the twine that held her helpless, and instructed, “Tell the students, Miss Sorensen, why did the docking of nipples become the punishment of choice for criminals? Why not simply take all of the girl’s breasts?”

Samantha gagged repeatedly as she struggled to speak, the terror and horror caused by Mr. Jennings continuing to circle the outside of her nipples with the terrible tube making it nearly impossible to do so. Finally she stammered, “Two reasons…first…most of the nerves…in a girl’s breasts…lead to her nipples…so there is…a greater concentration…of nerves there. It’s why…the nipples…are the…most sensitive…parts of…your breasts. Docking…a nipple…damages…a greater…concentration of…nerves…and thus…the punishment…is many times…more painful…than being…debreasted. Secondly…the scars…on your…areolae…where your nipples…were clipped off…mark you…as a criminal…to anyone…you bare…your breasts too. Stores…and butcher shops…won’t allow…a girl…with such scars…to sell…her breast bacon…via partial conversion…so you…are marked…for life! Please…Mr. Jennings…I don’t want…to be docked!”

Bill smiled and nodded to Samantha, still circling her nipples with the tube, before saying, “But, Miss Sorensen, in this scenario we are demonstrating to the students, you are playing the role of a silly girl who thought she could risk, in some gamble or game she wanted to play at a private party or private club, a partial conversion by donating her breasts if she had to, in a situation that has totally gotten out of control and put her into a helpless position. The boys or girls who have the girl restrained just want to have some cruel fun. What the girl, the part you’re playing, wants, is irrelevant. They want to inflict on her the most pain and feeling of loss that they possibly can!”

Bill removed the docking tube from the quaking teacher’s breasts and reached up and set the tube on the horizontal cross-bar of the frame above the teacher’s head. He gave Samantha a friendly smile as she struggled to regain her composure. Bill pulled a second tube, this one a six-inch-long, three-quarter-inch diameter, transparent tube, and held it out into a position where both Samantha and the field-trip class could see it. Bill smiled and said, “I told you I was interested in the 21^st Century, and this device was invented in that century. Bill tilted the tube forward so that the teachers and students could see there was a small opening at its lower end, and said, “The lower ring that forms the open base of this tube is actually a contractible metal diaphragm having complicated equipment on its inner surface; this base is detachable. The many closely spaced black, doughnut-like tori that you see in the tube are sticky, rubber diaphragms that are connected with complicated mechanical mechanisms. These mechanisms cause the diaphragms, beginning with the torus near the very tip of the tube, to contract, retract a short distance toward the back of the tube, hold, expand, push back to their original position, and then repeat the sequence.”

Bill smiled, before continuing with, “As you can see there is a sliding button switch on this tube as well. This switch is now set on off. The next position is on.” Bill slid the button and the little tube came on with a barely audible whirring sound. “Now, if you were close enough, you would be able to notice that the rubber torus nearest the tip of the tube moved first, by contracting, retracting, and then holding, before the next torus began its sequence of contracting, retracting, and then holding, before the first torus expanded and pushed forward into its original position to repeat its sequence, and that this sequence continues torus by torus further into the tube, each torus designed to function with the torus in front of it. The third position for the sliding button switch causes the metal diaphragm at the tip of the tube to contract and detach. And the fourth switch position sends a signal to the complicated equipment on inside surface of the metal diaphragm, and I’ll tell you what that equipment does after it gets this signal later.”

Bill smiled again, and asked, “Students, can any of you guess what this tube is for…what it was used for in the 21^st Century? What, no hands raised? Hmmm, well, I’ll give you a hint, if I put a piece of thin rubber tube or cylinder in the end of this tube, the actions of the tori would pull the thin tube or cylinder into the barrel of this larger tube. Let me show you…wait…I don’t have a piece of thin rubber tube or cylinder. Wait, if I had a malleable, elongate object that was attached to something else, it would be stretched into this tube. Let’s see, what could I use to demonstrate that? Okay, students, I could use some help here. Anyone have an idea? Still no hands raised I see. Well, if anyone thinks of something, just call out. Meanwhile, I’ll check the inside of the box-like frame just behind Miss Sorensen. Maybe there is a small length of twine that would work.”

As Bill began to turn to search the inside of the frame, he noticed a number of the students were whispering to each other, including the two boys. He glanced quickly at Samantha, and could see that she had regained most of her composure, the silly grin back on her face, and a look of confusion in her eyes. After looking into the frame between the teachers legs, he made a point of letting his head just barely graze her sex as he pulled back, earning a nice blush from the girl. It was then that Samuel got brave, and called out, “What about Miss Sorensen’s clit, Mr. Jennings. If a vacuum extractor can stretch a clit, like we were shown it could in one of our classes at school, maybe your 21^st Century tube could too?”

“Well, that might work, Samuel, and as Miss Sorensen is tied just in front of me with her legs spread nice and wide, I guess I could take a look and think about it,” Bill replied calmly, but as if he was unsure of the idea. “Sorry, Miss Sorensen, I’m going to part your labial lips and take a look at your privates. I know this will be embarrassing for you, but you are playing the part of a silly girl who got into a bad situation at some private party or club, and I’m sure if you were really in that situation….” Bill smiled up to Samantha, who was blushing badly, but nodding her head to indicate that she knew a girl in that situation would likely have been raped or worse by now.

Bill reached up and gently parted the top of her vulva with his fingers, gently pushing the teacher’s labial lips apart until he could get the clearest possible look at her clitoris, which was fully engorged with blood, indicating Samantha’s state of sexual excitement. His right hand, holding the tube, was actually between the girl’s legs, and hidden from her eyes by the curve of her belly. He knew she wouldn’t see the tube as he was slowly lifting it upwards toward her vulva and the clitoris at its upper apex until he had to tilt it forward at the end of its upward journey.

Samantha moaned with embarrassment as she felt her sex parted by the man below her, and watched as he closely examined her most private parts. She saw that his arm was moving, and prepared to have her sexual center fingered. She feared this alone might bring her to climax. In spite of the terror the instruments that had been shown to her had instilled in her heart, she found them and the threats they offered to be quite erotic. She had often imagined herself to be a Spanish peasant girl accused of practicing witchcraft, thrown into a dungeon where she was raped by the torturer, before he applied the breast ripper to her mammary glands one tit at a time. She could actually visualize the scenario that Bill was playing out with her, where she was trapped in a room with strangers at a private party, and forced to sexually service everyone in the room, males and females, knowing they were going to hurt her sexy bits before she was released, if ever she was released at all. She closed her eyes and let these fantasies run through her brain.

Suddenly, Samantha felt the cold metal of the tube touch her tender, swollen clitoris and gasped in surprise and opened her eyes. She felt Mr. Jennings carefully position the end of the tube over her most tender organ, and knew he was going to test Samuel’s suggestion, and jerked her head to look downward to try to see what was happening. She prayed that the boy’s suggestion wouldn’t work, that the tubes lower torus couldn’t reach and latch onto her clitoral glans. The teacher hadn’t guessed, didn’t have the information to even possible suspect, that the tube over her sexual center had an enlightening name.

Samantha heard the low whirring sound, and knew Mr. Jennings had turned the device on. Something compressed around the head of her clitoral glans, and the teacher squealed loudly. Then she felt the pull on the head of her organ, followed by rhythmic pulls that seemed to be reaching deeper and deeper into her clitoral cavity. If she could have seen her little organ, she would have known that it was actually her malleable flesh being stretched out of its burrow, and not the device penetrating into her body. It didn’t hurt, but the sensation was getting more and more uncomfortable. This continued for what seemed to be an eternity, but was actually only a few minutes. Finally, as the teacher began moaning in discomfort, the pulling sensation stopped.

Bill grinned with obvious satisfaction as he watched Samantha’s clitoral glans and much of her clitoral shaft get slowly stretched and pulled into the barrel of the transparent tube by the complicated mechanical action of the soft, sticky, rubber-coated, doughnut-shaped diaphragms within his new re-invention. As the more than the bottom third of the tube became filled with flesh, most of which had never before felt the tender caress of air, he could hear the students behind him begin to gasp, giggle, or chatter excitedly.

At first, Bill had marveled at how well the teacher had accepted the strange sensations the machine was providing her sexual center as it slowly worked to pull the tender flesh from its protective burrow. Then Samantha began moaning with discomfort, and as the mechanical actions within the tube and accompanying low whirring sound suddenly stopped, Bill understood why, and he informed the students, “Girls and boys, as you can see, there is about two inches of stretched clitoris in the barrel of this tube. Miss Sorensen began moaning in discomfort because the pull on her clitoral shaft was approaching the sensitive organ’s tensile strength.”

Bill could see there was still some confusion on the faces of many of the students, so he tried to clarify what his words meant, explaining, “If the diaphragms within the tube had continued to pull on your teacher’s tender flesh, her organ would have been ripped out of her body. Fortunately for Miss Sorensen, that is not the purpose of this little machine, and to prevent unfortunate accidents, the tube is equipped with powerful microcomputers and sensors that carefully calculate the tensile strength of any clitoris entering the barrel of the device, and calculate the exact amount of tension the lower rubber diaphragm can exert on the organ to get the maximum possible amount of the girl’s clitoris trapped in the tube.”

Bill looked up to Samantha’s face, and saw that, now that the rhythmic stretching had become a steady pull on her sexual center, the pained look on her face had again become a silly grin. There was a hint of fear and her eyes, and acquiescence, but mostly her eyes were filled with interest in what was happening to her.

Bill glanced back to the field-trip participants and, seeing he once again had everyone’s undivided attention, said, “Now class, I’ll pull the sliding button back to its third position, firstly causing the disk-like metal diaphragm at the end of the tube to constrict tightly around Miss Sorensen’s clitoral shaft, secondly causing all of the rubber-coated doughnut-shaped diaphragms to expand to fully open, releasing their grip on your teacher’s tender organ, and finally causing the metal disk-like diaphragm to be released from the tube tip.

Mr. Jennings slid the button, and Samantha responded with a short, high-pitched squeal as she felt her clitoral shaft suddenly get choked even more firmly. Bill showed Samantha and then the class the now open-ended barrel to the tube, and said, “The metal diaphragm is preventing Miss Sorensen’s clitoral shaft from retreating back into its natural cavity, but, having been released from the rubber-coated tori that were stretching it, the rest of your teacher’s girl penis, above the metal diaphragm, is slowly unstretching back into its natural shape. Soon, we will see how much of Miss Sorensen’s clitoris is actually being held out from the apex of her vulva and clitoral hood.”

Bill waited patiently for a few tens of seconds, while Samantha’s face reddened as she looked out to the students and realized they were all staring with fascination at her most private and treasured attribute. Bill chuckled suddenly, and grinning with satisfaction, announced, “Well it looks like we have nearly three-quarters-of-an-inch of girl penis to work with. It’s certainly nothing to make the boys envious of, all of us having seen what they’re packing earlier.” This brought giggles from the girls and broad grins from the two boys.

“All right, I’m sure that everyone wants to know what happens when I slide the button into its fourth and final position,” Bill Jennings said with a smile as he looked out to the class and then into Samantha’s worry-filled face. “As I said earlier, sliding the button into its final position sends a signal that activates complicated equipment on what was the inner surface of the metal diaphragm now tightly squeezing Miss Sorensen’s clitoral shaft and holding her girl penis out where we can see it.”

Mr. Jennings smiled to the class before staring again into Samantha’s eyes and continuing with his explanation, “The complicated equipment that the forth button position will activate are four tiny lasers with their emitters angling slightly downward toward the center of the diaphragm. Once activated, the ring the lasers are mounted on will start spinning rapidly around the clitoral shaft being held by the diaphragm, and the lasers will begin cutting into the trapped flesh until the core of the organ is finally severed, and clitoris and diaphragm both drop away from the victim’s vulva.”

Bill grinned broadly and chortled, “Yes students and teachers, the device I just applied to Miss Sorensen’s delicate sex organ is a declitting tube, re-invented centuries after its original development. Miss Sorensen, you are likely the first girl with the honor, and misfortune, to have had this instrument used on her in very many centuries, but I’ll wager far from the last. I’ve patented this design, and the government has already put in an order with the manufacturing plant I contracted with to have thousands constructed. I’ll get rich from the royalties, but will feel badly about the result. Like the docking tube, I’m sure the declitting tube will find its way into the hands of the general population, and will commonly pop up at private parties and private clubs, and get used on unwary girls like you are playing in this scenario for your students’ enlightenment.”

Mr. Jennings watched as horror again filled the teacher’s face, and calmly said, “However, don’t worry too much just yet, Miss Sorensen. I don’t think you’ll get to feel the heat of the lasers slowly slicing off your sex life.” Samantha, who had started yanking on her twine bindings again with a renewed look of fear and desperation in her eyes, suddenly stopped as Bill explained, “Lasering your clitoris off of you with a click of a button would not bring much satisfaction to either of us I fear, Miss Sorensen, although it might be a nice demonstration for your students.” He reached up and set the declitting tube on the top of the horizontal frame bar above the teacher’s head and watched her relax as she saw his hands were empty.

Then, as Bill began fishing something out of his shirt pocket, he said in a voice filled with sincerity, “I prefer a more personal touch when I can manage it—the type of personal touch that comes with using a pry bar to get even more clitoris exposed followed by a slow snip with surgical scissors to send the girl penis toppling to the floor.” Bill Jennings slowly opened his hand as he held it out palm upwards before Samantha’s face, so that everyone in the room could see those two instruments had been what he took from his shirt pocket. Samantha gasped; so did most of the female students!

Bill watched Samantha resume struggling against her bindings, trying to break free as horror once again filled her eyes and hopelessness filled her soul. As the teacher began whining in fear, Bill said in his most calm and professional voice, “Easy, Miss Sorensen, it wouldn’t do to let your students see you damage your wrists and ankles in a futile effort. Besides, I’m going to set these tools aside as well.” Bill reached up and carefully placed the pry bar and scissors on the horizontal cross-bar over the teacher’s head next to the declitting tube.

“After all,” Bill continued as he slowly lowered his hand, “it would be inappropriate to begin a girl’s docking, even at a private club or private party as we are pretending you are at, Miss Sorensen, by snipping off her exposed clitoris. Everyone knows a docking begins with taking off the girl’s nipples, and this will be how your docking begins as well, Samantha!”

Samantha became pallid with horror as Bill finally pulled his right hand from behind her head, and she could finally see the docking tube it again held. The teacher opened her mouth to scream, but she didn’t. Samantha Sorensen suddenly realized that there was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent herself from being docked. For the sake of her students, she decided to be brave and accept her impending mutilation with as much decorum as she could manage.

Bill nodded, as he could finally see resignation fill Samantha’s face, and resolve in her eyes. He whispered, “That’s right! I knew you had the bravery in you to help your students learn this most painful lesson. I trust they will never forget this lesson, even though it is you that is accepting that pain, and not they, and believe many of them will never be in your position amongst strangers because of what the two of us have done and are about to do. I tell you in all honesty that, while I am more than willing to harvest the meat from a girl within preset conditions governing that harvesting, I get no joy from inflicting pain on a girl. I’ll not enjoy my role as we bring this demonstration to an end, though I admit you will likely enjoy it even less than I. There isn’t any way out of this for either of us now. Shall we finish what we’ve started?”

Cheryl raced over to the box-like frame carrying two trays, one of which was empty, the other carrying a wet washcloth, a bottle with liquid in it that was capped with an eyedropper, and an assortment of bandages. She set the empty tray on the floor between Samantha’s feet, in a position where it would catch her soon to be sacrificed flesh. Then she stepped slightly forward and to the side the frame so that she wouldn’t block anyone else’s view, but could still see what was happening herself.

The color left Samantha’s face as she listened to the words that the man before her spoke, and watched his assistant provide a landing pad for the treasured sexy bits she was about to lose. For some inexplicable reason, she knew Mr. Jennings was speaking truthfully. She had no doubt that there was no escaping the fate that would be thrust upon the girl she was playing in the scenario, and therefore herself, and said, loudly so that the class could hear, “The silly girl I am playing in this demonstration is about to pay a terrible price for being so incredibly stupid, girls and boys, just as she surely would if this were not a demonstration to help you all learn the cruel ways of the world. Show my students, Mr. Jennings, what will likely happen to them if they are foolish, for even one night, and gamble their assets in an uncontrolled environment!”

Bill smiled as he listened to Samantha’s voice, which was calm and steady, and there wasn’t a sign of shaking anywhere on her body that would indicate fear. He nodded, and began gently massaging the girl’s left breast, before lowering his head to suckle on her turgid left nipple, eliciting low moans of pleasure from her throat. Then he massaged her right breast and suckled on the teacher’s right nipple, and was rewarded with more moans of pleasure. He looked down at the thickest and most turgid nipples he had ever seen, standing out from the small breasts with the small pinkish areolae, and said, “Miss Sorensen, these nipples of yours are the loveliest I have ever had the pleasure of viewing, but fate decrees that they are no longer yours to possess at the tips of your breasts. Which nipple first, Miss Sorensen, and do you want it to be docked slowly or quickly?”

“The left first, and both of them slowly, Mr. Jennings,” Samantha Sorensen said loudly and clearly, with just a hint of quiver in her voice. “Students, I expect this is going to hurt terribly, so forgive me if I scream or cry. Don’t worry about me, your teacher, worry about that silly girl who got in over her head amongst strangers, and never forget her painful payment for that silliness.”

Bill, standing to Samantha’s right side so that he wouldn’t block anyone’s view, pushed the docking tube in his right hand before the teacher’s face with the business end pointed forward, and as the girl watched with unblinking eyes, he pushed the sliding button slowly back so that she could see the half-circle razor blades slowly rotate outward and upward. He watched her eyes follow the silver tube as he lowered it, and positioned the sharp blades so that they were centered above and below her turgid left nipple. Bill then allowed the button to slowly slide forward causing the twin razor blades to rotate downward and inward toward the targeted flesh, while he pushed the barrel of the tube slightly forward to compensate for the inward rotation which would have pulled the cutting point away from the base of the nipple.

Samantha watched the blades at the end of the cruel tube close towards her tender turret as if mesmerized, and gasped as she felt the blades touch the top and bottom of her areola just outside of the base of her nipple. Fascination filled her face as she watched and felt the sharp blades catch her skin and begin to drag her flesh outward and into the tube as the half-circle blades continued to rotate downward and inward.

Samantha could see red, a bit of blood, seconds later as the twin blades began to incise into the tip of her left tit, and the fascination on her face became a look of concern. As the twin blades rotated ever so slowly inward, they pushed into the tip of her teat and pulled it outward slightly deforming the cone-like shape of her breast, and Samantha felt an itching sensation, that became first pain and then agony when the blades had bit deeply into her nipple and its bundle of nerves. Only half severed, her nipple protested against the damage it was receiving with pain more severe than a red-hot poker could have elicited, and tears filled Samantha’s eyes as she shrilled loudly in obvious agony. The scream didn’t end as she watched without blinking as her left nipple became three-quarters severed, and then disappeared into the barrel of the tube. Suddenly the stretched tip of her conical breast popped back into its normal shape, leaving a red, bleeding wound at the end of the areola where a nipple once protruded, and the scream became a low mournful moan of loss.

Samantha was bawling badly as she finally regained her senses, and looked up to see Mr. Jennings watching her face closely. Evidently, he had been waiting to get her attention, as now he ceremonially raised the docking tube upward from her nippleless left breast, which was now leaking blood at its tip, to hold it before her face. The sobbing teacher watched as the man slowly pointed the bladed end of the tube downward and pulled the blades open. To a symphony of gasps from the field-trip participants, Samantha Sorensen shrilled a mournful song of loss as she watched her severed nipple drop out of the docking tube and onto the silver tray at her feet.

Tears still flowing freely, Samantha watched as Mr. Jennings twisted the barrel toward her face, so that she could see the open docking blades, and then slowly lowered the tube downward and then forward until the blades were positioned above and below her right turgid nipple. The teacher gagged in trepidation, but couldn’t take her eyes off of the terrible mutilation tool. She watched through her widened but tearful eyes as the blades slowly began to rotate downward and inward until they again caught the tip of her breast just inside of the base of her nipple.

As Samantha watched the inward rotation of the blades begin to drag her right nipple into the barrel of the tube, she screamed, “NOOoooo! Oh, GOD NOOOooooo!” She felt sure she would pass out if she felt the intense agony she had already felt once when her left nipple was excised. She wanted to plead for Mr. Jennings to stop and leave her be, but she knew he would not…no could not…and held her tongue. She screamed shrilly as she saw the cuts around the razor blades begin to leak red fluid. She knew this meant the pain would begin soon, and indeed, seconds later she howled in agony. The teacher gagged in horror as she watched the tip of her teat slowly get dragged into the docking tube, and shrilled loudly again as she watched her breast again pop away from the tip of the docking tube as her right nipple was severed from it.

This time, the bawling teacher managed enough composure to nod at the man who had docked her so that he would know she was paying attention. She watched unblinkingly between sobs as he slowly raised the tube from her tortured chest to hold it before her face, and slowly turn the barrel downward. As Bill Jennings pulled the blades open, and Samantha watched her right nipple drop to the tray below her, she gasped and gagged, trying to get her head around the terrible loss that had been forced upon her. She looked at the bloody ends of her breasts, and gagged again. Without nipples, her small breasts looked pathetic to her, and she knew the scars at their tips would sicken her for the rest of her life. She lifted her teary eyes away from her damaged chest, and stared out to see the utter horror on the faces of the girls and teachers.

As Bill Jennings patiently waited for the blonde teacher’s sobs to subside, he felt terrible. He just hoped that the pain and suffering he had put the girl through would help keep some of her students safe from the pitiless world. Then, finally, he saw that Samantha was looking at him, and seemed lucid, and he asked in his quietest whisper, “Do you think your students have learned their lesson fully? If so, I’ll dispense with the declitting? If not, shall we proceed? Either way, I think it best if the students don’t know, ever, that I have given you this choice. So momentarily I will loudly ask you a question. If you shake your head negatively, it will mean that you wish to continue and see to it that they learn the lesson we are trying to teach without thinking there will be some magical escape from the threat they might someday face. If you nod, it will mean that you will take it upon yourself to vouchsafe that their lesson has been well learned.”

Bill watched as the girl sobbed loudly, the wounds at the tips of her breasts still radiating agony into her chest, and then nodded her understanding. He reached up, over the teacher’s head, and set the docking tube on the frame’s horizontal bar beside the declitting tube, and retrieved the pry bar and surgical scissors. As he lowered his hand, he showed the tools to Samantha, and watched as the color drained from her face and she began quivering in obvious terror. He held the tools out for the class to see, and was rewarded with looks of abject horror accompanied by soft gasps from most every female before him. Bill slowly knelt, and lifted the pry bar to the apex of the teacher’s widespread legs. He used the tool to pry the disk-like metal diaphragm away from Samantha’s hood, pulling more of her clitoral shaft from its burrow, and making room for the surgical scissor blades. He carefully inserted the open scissors between the diaphragm holding the girl’s clitoris in its position of sacrifice and the teacher’s clitoral hood, and asked loudly, “Are you ready, Miss Sorensen, to have your clitoris excised from your body and become a neutered woman?”

Samantha moaned loudly as she felt her sexual center become stretched even more, and gasped in terror as she felt the razor sharp scissor blades close until they touched her clitoral shaft. She shook in her tight bonds as she stared out to the girls from her school—most of their faces were filled with horror, but a few showed disbelief and hope that their teacher would escape the terrible fate that she was being threatened with. She knew these girls had not yet learned the lesson Mr. Jennings sought to teach them for their own good.

Samantha heard a low forlorn whine, and grew even more pallid as she realized that the sound was coming from her own throat. The teacher shivered with trepidation and said, “Please, Mr. Jennings, don’t kill my clitoris and end my sex life. I don’t want to suffer the fate that the girl I am representing in this demonstration would surely suffer.” Samantha closed her eyes, and shook her head from side to side. She shrilled loudly as she felt the pinch of the scissor blades around her clitoral shaft begin to slowly tighten, and then she heard a snapping sound followed by immeasurable agony between her legs. She heard the field-trip participants gasp and sigh in horror, and then the sound of a small piece of metal and an even smaller piece of flesh drop onto the silver tray below her. It was then the teacher realized that the snapping sound had been her severed clitoral shaft snapping back into its burrow as the rest of her clitoris dropped away from her vulva. “NNNNnnnnoooOOOOO!” Samantha screamed. “Ohhh! God NNnnooooOOO!”

Samantha quaked and sobbed before a stunned and silent room for several minutes, before she finally managed to regain some composure, and look at Mr. Jennings who was now standing before her, the scissors and pry bar still in his hands. The teacher could see tears streaming down his cheeks as he asked, just barely loud enough for the rest of the room to hear, “Are we done with our demonstration, Miss Sorensen? Is our painful lesson fully learned?”

Samantha looked out to the class and could see that students and teachers alike, even the two boys, were frowning with disgust and horror and most shed tears. The teacher rasped, “Yes, Mr. Jennings, Sir, I think this lesson of pain has been well taught and well learned, but no, we are not done with our demonstration just yet. I ask you to grant me my most secret boon. I have no wish to carry the scars of my docking for the rest of my life, so I will admit my darkest secret. As I studied the Spanish Inquisition, and wrote my thesis, I developed a most intense, yet embarrassing fantasy. I fantasized about being a girl from that time, accused of witchcraft, and of the breast ripper being used on my chest. On many a night, I masturbated myself to climax as I lived this fantasy in my mind. Use the breast ripper, hanging so close beside my body, to let me live my fantasy for real, while removing the marks of the docking at the same time. Let me finally live my most secret fantasy!”

“Very well, Miss Sorensen,” Bill Jennings replied softly in a hoarse voice. He carefully set the pry bar and scissors on the horizontal frame bar above the teacher’s head, and slowly removed the tong-like torture instrument from the peg beside the teacher’s waist. As he stepped back and slowly raised the clawed end toward the girl’s chest, he watched as she gave the business end of the tong her full attention, no longer sobbing although she continued to shed tears. He slowly pushed the bottom of the four claws firmly against Samantha’s chest with her nippleless left breast centered between the four sharp claws, and asked, “Are you ready, Miss Sorensen?”

Bill watched as the girl slowly nodded without taking her eyes off of the breast ripper, and slowly squeezed the tongs together. Ever so slowly, the four claws were pushed into the base of the teacher’s chest, and Samantha moaned with the newly added pain. Finally, when the claws came together and Bill stopped closing the claws, he saw the girl nod, and twisted the tong viciously to the right before quickly rotating the deeply buried claws back to the left. There was pain-filled gasp from Samantha, followed by a plopping sound as the teacher’s small left breast landed on the silver tray beneath and before her widespread legs that leaked a small amount of blood at the apex of her vulva.

Bill allowed the tongs to open, and nodded at the chest wound that was smoother and less tattered than expected, and moved the head of the tong over Samantha’s right breast. When the claws had been positioned against her chest and around her right A-cup, the teacher nodded again. Bill slowly squeezed the four claws into the base of the girl’s remaining breast, eliciting another moan that spoke of newly added pain, and then again twisted the instrument viciously, first to the right and then to the left. Accompanying another loud gasp that spoke of agony, Bill heard a second plop that announced Samantha’s breastless status to the world. He turned and walked away from the box-like frame toward Cheryl’s counter, tears streaming down his face. Cheryl was left to tend to the brave teacher’s wounds and bindings by herself, this time.

Chapter 7. Fate Forestalled Forevermore

“Holy crap!” Sue Richards exclaimed as she watched the weeping Bill Jennings walk to the back of the corner counter and angrily hang the breast ripper from a peg on the wall behind it. “I don’t think Bill needs to ask how many of the girls thought that making a partial donation to the world-wide food chain the way Miss Sorensen did looked fun! He wouldn’t see any raised hands following that demonstration if he did ask.”

“Yes, Sue, you’re right about that,” Zatanna replied, nodding to Samantha, who had just had the blood wiped from her chest and vulva wounds, and was now having her chest bandaged. “That poor girl was put through a lot of mental torment, before having her nipples docked and her clitoris stretched and clipped off. She said that having the breast ripper used on her was her secret sexual fantasy, and that she had often masturbated to the mental images of the claws being used on her, yet she wasn’t able to steal a climax as The Inquisition torture instrument ruined her breasts here in the cruel reality of the real world.”

“I can understand why,” Janet said softly as she watched Cheryl on her knees using an eyedropper to squirt pain killer and disinfectant into the cavity that now held a beheaded clitoral shaft deep within it before the waitress applied a small bandage to the top of Samantha’s vulva, “considering the intense pain that obviously accompanied her docking; the type of pain that I myself inflicted on another girl last Saturday night at Club X. As much as I claim to be the world’s greatest pain slut, I don’t think an orgasmatron beam set on its highest setting could bring me to climax after being docked! To think that you, Wanda, actually asked Bill to have a docking option added to the debreasting options menu in the booths at Final Fantasy! Were you out of your mind? More importantly, are you actually considering taking that excruciating pain as part of your next debreasting experience?”

“I don’t know, Janet,” Wanda said softly as she looked with concern at Bill Jennings as he watched Cheryl finally begin untying the twines that bound Samantha. The man was obviously troubled by his role in the demonstration that just ended, but looking out into the field-trip class, Wanda could tell from the looks on the faces of the female students, that Bill’s demonstration had delivered a powerful message. “I suppose that might depend on the solutions we come up with to address the troubling issues Sue, with Zatanna’s input, has identified—our own cavalier attitudes that has led to the four of us actively seeking to have pain and destruction heaped upon our breasts, and the fact that there are terrible wrongs being done to the people of this century, mostly to the women, that we, as heroines, should begin to put right.”

Wanda blushed, and continued softly, “I suppose I should take most of the responsibility for initiating the first issue. I brought us to this world, seeking that pain and destruction, so that I could wash away the memory of helplessness that resulted from my unwanted debreasting in the 21^st Century at the Riddler’s hands. Thanks to this future world and the debreasting booths at Final Fantasy, I believe I have accomplished that goal. However, I, and perhaps some of you, have become fascinated with, perhaps hooked on, the sensations, both mental and physical, that accompany a debreasting. Therefore, I choose to try to address that issue last.”

So, in answer to your question, Janet,” Wanda continued with a silly smile on her face, “yes, I am still considering offering my nipples to be docked by someone on the other side of the debreasting booth portals during my next booth stint at Final Fantasy, assuming there is to be one. I want to know just exactly what it would have felt like had Tyler Roberts and the rest of our escorts not been interrupted by Bill Jennings as he prepared to take my sexy tips as souvenirs, while planning to do the same to you three as well when finished with me, before allowing us to finally leave Club X. Besides, if Bill has gone to the trouble and expense of implementing my suggestion, well, maybe I owe it to him to make sure the option gets used at least once.”

“I suggest you make sure you know what your letting yourself in for, Wanda,” Zatanna chortled, “considering the fact that getting your clit clipped seems to be an integral part of a docking. Or did you enjoy getting declitted on our last visit to Final Fantasy?”

“NO!” Wanda spat vehemently. “I most certainly did not enjoy that aspect of my last debreasting experience at Final Fantasy! I am still a bit peeved at Bill Jennings for his having forced me into the breast suspension device that included the razor wire around my clitoral shaft that ripped my sexual center out of its cavity as the razor wires around my breasts began to slice upward. If not for our Chula nanogene tissue regenerator…well…I’m not sure I would feel life was still worth living. I’ll not, by choice, risk my sex life ending due to a tissue regenerator failure, even though the chances of that happening are small, so I will do some research before selecting ‘docking option yes’ on the debreasting booth menu, again assuming there will be a next time.”

“Of course there will be a next time, Wanda,” Sue said softly. “We are already committed to Friday night, and I’m sure that won’t be our last visit to Final Fantasy. I didn’t mean to imply that playing the debreasting booth game wasn’t fun, or that it was immoral for us to play it. My point, and I think Zatanna’s as well, is that we’ve been playing the game with the goal of losing it and our breasts, while most other girls have been trying to win the game and get a free orgasmatron beam dose while keeping their attributes. Our point of view seems to be tilted just because we have the Chula device, but, as you just pointed out, that machine could fail to work one of these days, maybe even Friday night. Therefore, I believe we should rethink our approach to playing the game. On the other hand, Zatanna, a girl should try everything at least once. The three of us have been declitted at Final Fantasy. What say you give it a try Friday evening?”

Zatanna sighed three times, embarrassingly loudly, as the rape-o-matic sex machine plundering her vagina, combined with Sue’s sordid suggestion, drove her to climax. As she managed to regain her composure, she stridently proclaimed, “No way in hell am I going to do that! Even a one in a million chance that my sexual center wouldn’t get regenerated is too high of a risk for me to take! I wouldn’t be happy if I ended up permanently flat-chested, and there could come a time soon where I’m no longer willing to even risk that, given that having breasts is an important asset for my magic shows. However, I would be crushed if my ability to climax came to an abrupt end! No declitting for me, thank you very much!” Zatanna’s face reddened as the three other heroines laughed.

Wanda grinned broadly at the Justice Leaguer beside her, before admitting, “Actually, it won’t take too much to force another climax on me—these rape-o-matic machines are relentless! Let’s move on to talking about the second issue—the idea that, as heroines, we should be righting a few wrongs if we continue to come here—before we resolve the first issue, which I fear is going to be more difficult for me. However, first I think we should relax and enjoy our machine rapes and machine milkings until the final debreasting is over, and, hopefully our sex machines are turned off. It looks like Bill is walking back over to Cheryl and Samantha, now that the teacher has been freed and treated.”

“Good idea!” Janet replied nodding in agreement. She glanced over to her milk-storage container and quipped, “We’ve passed the three-liter mark. We should have demanded higher pay for our milkings. Bill Jennings is rich enough as it is.” The four heroines laughed as they watched Samantha Sorensen give the man who had caused her so much mental and physical agony a long hug. Meanwhile, Cheryl could be seen taking the blonde teacher’s breasts and tips on the silver tray back to her counter where she would diligently clean the sacrifices before placing the small breasts on the red, cloth covered tray, cone-shapes pointing upward and three tips between them.

“Boys, and Girls,” Samantha called out to get the class’s attention, still wearing a frown of disappointment, “I know that last demonstration was as hard for you to watch, as it was for me to live through. Just realize that I am no longer in physical pain due to these nifty bandages. However, the loss I feel, no longer having a clitoris, making my achieving sexual climax difficult at the very least for the rest of my life, is far more devastating than the physical pain or the loss I would have felt after making a normal partial conversion. Please don’t put yourselves at risk, girls, and end up feeling this loss before you’ve really had a chance to begin living life as a full adult.” The class applauded and cheered loudly, nodding that they understood. A smile finally formed on the blonde teacher’s impish face, as she called out, “Next! You’re finally up, sweet Holly! Make us all proud by showing us your courage and resolve!”

As Bill watched the high school senior move from her position at the front of the class to stand by Mrs. Ogsdale in front of the heroines’ milking stalls facing her classmates, he quickly retrieved his equipment from the top bar of the box-like frame and returned the docking and declitting tubes to his pants pocket and the pry bar and surgical scissors to his shirt pocket. As Bill examined the 5-foot-2-inch tall girl with short brown hair and brown eyes, he could see she was slightly chubby and a bit horse-faced. Those two factors, in conjunction with the huge DD-cup pinkish-brown-tipped breasts she carried on her chest, had obviously led the girl’s parents and, evidently, the girl herself to conclude she would be converted into a milk cow when her number finally came up in The Lottery.

“Hi, Holly,” Mr. Jennings said with a smile as he watched Cheryl role the box-like frame back to its original position, “don’t you worry one bit about what you and I are going to do together in a few minutes. I promise that the pain you feel will be as brief as possible. Much briefer than your teachers experienced during their demonstrations, and as you can see, they are all, even Miss Sorensen, back with your classmates eagerly awaiting their chances to watch your bravery.”

“I’m not afraid, Mr. Jennings,” Holly said in a soft steady voice. “Actually, I think getting these big milk bags popped is going to be fun!”

“With a good attitude like that, I’m sure it will be fun for you, Holly,” Bill replied calmly. “Just stand here with Mrs. Ogsdale for a moment, while I talk to the teacher with your permission note. I have to verify that it is indeed authentic, for while you are an adult, you are still your parents’ ward until you graduate.”

The third teacher who had arrived at the dairy already debreasted, a lovely black girl in her mid-twenties with dark brown eyes and black hair, held up her hand at the back of the class showing that she was the teacher with the note. Bill walked quickly over to the teacher and said, “Hi, I’m Bill. May I see the note, Miss?

“Yes sir, Mr. Jennings,” the slightly chubby teacher replied and held her right hand and the note it held before Bill. “I’m Monica Taylor, by the way. I had fun losing my D-Cups at Final Fantasy three years ago. Thank you for making your wonderful venue available to us girls!”

“You are very welcome, Monica, and I am glad you had fun,” Bill replied as he read the note. “This doesn’t say how the parents want the debreasting carried out. I don’t suppose you’ve talked with them about this, have you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have, Mr. Jennings” Monica replied. “They said to leave the how up to you, but would like it to be, if possible, both over quickly and a pleasant memory. I guess Holly has been worrying over her future a lot lately, and they really appreciate your helping them out. Her dad said you could have sex with her as you took her breasts, but I explained to him that school rules wouldn’t permit that. I’m afraid that actually may have been Holly’s idea, not his, so I’m bringing this up just in case I’m right.”

“Thank you for the warning, Monica,” Bill said nodding his head. “That may save both Holly and me a bit of embarrassment. I guess I better get her ready. It was nice meeting you.” Bill quickly made his way through the students to stand before Holly as she faced her classmates.

“Thank you for being patient, Holly,” Mr. Jennings said softly. “I’ve been thinking about what debreasting technique we should demonstrate to your classmates, and thought you might like to give the guillotine, with your pretty breasts through the debreasting lunette, a try. It’s really erotic to stand strapped to the machine, looking up at the sharp blade that may fall from its cross-bar at any second and pop your big balloons.”

“Sure, Mr. Jennings,” Holly said with a mischievous smile, “that sounds really hot. It would really be hotter if it happened while you had sex with me and released the blade just as we climaxed together.”

“You are one wicked and sexy, girl, aren’t you, Holly,” Mr. Jennings said with a broad smile. “Sorrowfully, it has been less than a week since my late wife, Marge, passed, and in her honor I have pledged to abstain from sex for a bit more time than has passed just now.”

“Mr. Jennings,” Mrs. Ogsdale interjected, “on my authority and with my taking full responsibility, I would appreciate it if you could at least partly grant Holly’s wish. Can you place an orgasmatron beam projector between her legs on a setting that will slowly bring her to climax, and then have the blade take her breasts when that happens?”

“Mrs. Ogsdale,” Bill Jennings complained bitterly, “you are being most bold and demanding this field trip. I have never seen you this way before. I could do as you ask, using an orgasm detector with a built in signaling device linked to the guillotine machine’s blade release mechanism, but the phallus-shaped orgasm detector requires vaginal penetration to sense climax. Surely you aren’t…”

“YES!” Holly cried out excitedly. “That sounds hot, and all of my friends would be so very jealous of me. Let’s guillotine my breasts that way, Mr. Jennings. Can we, Mrs. Ogsdale?”

“Although I think that might be considered stretching the rules just a tiny bit, Holly,” Mrs. Ogsdale replied laughing, “on this day I am prepared to do so. Holly has had sex education, Mr. Jennings, and has had a phallus-shaped vibrator in her vagina while demonstrating to her teacher that she understood how to use the sex toy, and, like all the girl students, she did this while her classmates watched. This is part of the curriculum for all sex education classes these days. Doing as she asks would damage her neither physically not psychologically. On my authority and with me taking full responsibility, I urge you to do as she asks.”

Bill frowned and was about to decline the suggestion again. However, with the head teacher taking the responsibility for the decision, supplemented by Miss Taylor’s statement that the parents were okay with their daughter having sexual relations while being debreasted, he decided to give in and let the girl have her way. “Fine, Holly, we will rig you up so that the guillotine blade will be released when an orgasmatron beam generator forces a climax from your privates,” Bill said calmly, finally wearing his friendly smile again. He looked over to Cheryl, who was once again at her counter, and asked, “Can I have three elastic bands, Cheryl? Two should be sized to compress the bases of Holly’s nice, big boobies, and the other sized to go over both breasts and squeeze her melons together.”

He turned to Holly and explained, “We want to try to shape your breasts so that we can get as much breast meat as possible under the path of the blade without damaging the underlying pectoral muscles. That’s what the elastics will be for. They won’t hurt you or interfere with the blade as it falls.” As Cheryl arrived carrying the bands, Bill slid one of the smaller bands to the base of Holly’s right breast, adjusted it so it was as far back against her chest as possible, and then repeated the procedure on the girl’s left breast. The banding partly done, Bill fit the larger band over both breasts, made sure it was firm against Holly’s chest, and then pulled both ends back over the side of the girl’s ribcage, one at a time, to try to cause some of the breasts outer sides, where the ribcage curved backward, to be pulled forward.

Bill smiled and in his most comforting tone, proclaimed, “Well done, Holly! Now we can go let you look at the guillotine machine while I restrain your wrists and ankles. In the meantime, Cheryl will need to switch out the neck lunette for the debreasting lunette. Don’t worry, that shouldn’t take long. Bill looked back to the class and nodded at the guillotine in the center of the wall to their right, and said, “Girls and boys, I’m going to take Holly over to that guillotine, rather than move the heavy machine to where the other debreastings took place. I know you are going to have the urge to move closer, but you may not. Watch from your current positions, please.”

Bill guided Holly over to the back of the machine where a low narrow bench was positioned so that a girl making a full conversion could be turned into a long pig in a prone position. Bill pointed to the front of the bench, and said, “Holly, the inclined pads just there with the small rings at the bottom are used to restrain a sow’s wrists, whether she is placed on her stomach or her back, when it is the neck that is being placed under the guillotine blade. For debreastings, they are used to restrain a girl’s ankles. Could you please place one leg over the bench, facing the milk cows, with each ankle adjacent to one of the metal rings, sweetie?”

Bill watched as Holly glanced over to her classmates and smiled, and then nodded at Bill, before stepping over the bench and positioning her feet as instructed. Bill pulled four lengths of twine from a pants pocket, tossed three of the lengths on the bench behind Holly, and then knelt and secured Holly’s left ankle to the nearby ring with the final length of twine.

While Bill was walking around the bench to where he could reach Holly’s right ankle, Cheryl was removing the neck lunette, beginning with its upper half, from its position spanning the vertical posts inside of the blade grove. This was easily done, as the each half of the lunette was held in place by four small pegs attached to spring-loaded tabs on either end of the thin boards having half moon cutouts at their bottom or top to form the neck hole. Cheryl simply used two widespread fingers on each hand on either side of the board to push the tabs toward its center, removing pegs from the peg holes that had been drilled in the posts at regular intervals for much of their length.

After Cheryl removed first the top and then the bottom of neck lunette, she positioned the bottom of the breast lunette, having two half-circle cutouts rather than one on its upper edge, at the height she guessed Holly’s breasts would be positioned at, by holding in the spring loaded tabs as she put the board in position and then allowing the pegs to fit into the peg holes. Cheryl decided to hold off on fitting the upper board with double cutouts on its lower side into position until Holly’s breasts were under the blade.

Bill quickly finished securing Holly’s right ankle to the nearby ring, stood, and said softly, “Holly, now I’m going to tie your wrists together, followed by your elbows to make your breasts really jut forward. After that, I’ll tell you and your classmates about the guillotine, before leaning you forward and strapping you in place. You’re still not afraid, right?” After watching Holly shake her head negatively, Bill pulled another length of twine from the bench, quickly secured the girl’s hands, and then retrieved the last length of twine and secured the girl’s arms together just above her elbows.

“Okay, girls and boys, before we position Holly in the machine for her debreasting, I thought I would tell you a little about the guillotine,” Bill said loudly with a smile on his face. “Although similar machines had been used before, what is known as the guillotine was developed in the period of Ancient History known as the French Revolution. The guillotine was used on its first victim in 1792. The guillotine was a popular tool used to execute men and women for hundreds of years thereafter. The victim was forced to lie either face down or face up on a tip-able bed known as a bascule, the blade was released, and the man or woman’s head tumbled into a basket or leather sack. Although there are legends of the machine being used to remove the breasts of women or the penises of men during those centuries, there is no historical documentation to verify this.”

Bill continued his lecture, seeing he had the students’ rapt attention, saying, “The guillotine consists of two ten-foot high posts secured at the bottom to a sturdy platform, and held together at its top by a sturdy cross-bar. Each post has a smooth straight grove carved in it near its inner edge, and in the case of this machine, the grove is also oiled to further reduce friction. The purpose of these groves is to keep the blade falling straight downward in a vertical orientation when it is released. On the inside of the post rearward of these grooves, are peg holes to hold each half of the lunette in place. The modern guillotine has many peg holes, because the elevation of the lunette is more varied in modern usage; the original machines only required the neck lunette to be positioned before the bascule.”

Bill continued his lecture with, “As was the case with the original machines, the cross-bar has a single, lubricated hole drilled in it through which the rope that holds the blade assembly beneath the cross-bar is thread. For modern usage, the bascule has been replaced by a narrow bench, or no bench at all if the victim is not going to be beheaded in a prone position. Today, the bench is being used to spread Holly’s legs. The original design had a wooden handle on the outside of one of the posts, called a de΄clic, that when pulled would release the rope holding the blade. Today, the blade release is more modern, and in the case of this guillotine, automated.”

Bill concluded his explanation pointing towards the top of the guillotine, explaining, “The blade assembly consists of a lower, angled blade weighing 15 pounds, which is attached to a rectangular weight called a mouton. The mouton, to which the guillotine rope is attached in the center of its upper surface, weighs 66 pounds. The mouton has small rods protruding from its outer ends that fit in the grooves. For a prone victim on the bench or bascule, the blade falls 89 inches before reaching the targeted neck, and slices through said neck in less than 0.005 seconds. The blade edge is angled rather than straight and level to allow the blade to cut more quickly and cleanly through the flesh due to encountering less friction as it slices downward.”

“Okay class, that is enough lecturing,” Bill chuckled, “It is finally time to secure Holly into the machine, and let you all watch the machine in action as it severs her melons from her chest. Holly, I’m going to lean you forward now, and hold you from falling forward while Cheryl adjusts the height of the lower half of the breast lunette and then puts the upper half of the breast lunette over the top of your big boobies. Then I’ll let you lean against the lunette while I tighten straps around your back just under your armpits and around your lower back to press your chest firmly against the thin lunette boards. We want to harvest all of your breast bacon, don’t we?”

“Yes, Mr. Jennings,” Holly replied with a grin on her face and excitement in her eyes. “I want all of both milk bags popped off of my chest!”

Bill smiled as he pushed the girl forward and held her in place while Cheryl raised the lower lunette half up one peg-hole level to pillow the girl’s breasts slightly, before putting on and securing the upper lunette half over the tops of the big boobs. Because of the huge size of Holly’s DD-cups, the twin holes formed in the center of the now assembled lunette were tight around the breasts within them. Bill secured the straps over the girl while Cheryl picked up the neck lunette halves and returned them to her counter. The straps in place, Bill moved to the front of the machine to adjust the sides of Holly’s breasts and pull on her nipples to make sure as much of her breasts as possible were under the blade. Bill then tightened the twin straps as tightly as possible.

Cheryl, having returned from her counter carrying a disk-like orgasmatron beam emitter, a phallus-shaped orgasm detector, and a big silver tray with blood red cloth on it, handed the disk-like device to her boss when he finished with the straps. She watched as Bill placed the disk on the bench between Holly’s legs, and made some preliminary adjustments to the beam projector’s focal point. Cheryl wasn’t at all surprised to see that, like most modern girls, including most of the female students from East High School, Holly kept her fillet clean-shaven and ready for harvesting.

“Holly, I’m going to have to use my fingers to part your labial lips so I can focus the pleasure beams onto your clitoris, sweetie,” Bill warned. After watching the girl nod, he used his thumb and forefinger to spread Holly’s lower lips, causing the girl to moan in pleasure and blush with embarrassment. Bill could see the girl was wet with sexual excitement, and was worried she might climax too quickly to get a good experience out of her debreasting. He quickly focused the beam with his free hand, locked the tracker on its closer-than-normal target, and, still holding the girl’s sex open, asked, “Holly can you move your hips around in a circular pattern? I want to make sure the beam is locked onto your lovely little sex button.”

Holly did as she was told, and, seeing the orgasmatron beam was focused correctly, Bill held his hand out for the orgasm detector. Bill switched the long, thick penis-shaped device on and positioned the device, rounded tip upwards, under Holly’s genitals, while Cheryl set the tray on the floor at the base of the guillotine under Holly’s breasts before returning to her counter. Bill said softly, “Holly, I’m going to insert a vibrator-like object into your vagina. Make sure you don’t think too much about it being in your sex, as we don’t want you to climax before you’ve had some nice time to enjoy your orgasmatron beams.”

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Jennings,” Holly replied. “I want to spend some time imagining what the blade slicing through my milk bags is going to feel like before it actually happens, anyhow.”

“Good girl,” Bill said as he slid the tip of the phallus between Holly’s labial lips and then pushed it deep into her vagina. He quickly set the orgasmatron beam emitter on its automatic intensity increase setting, and then flipped the signal detector switch on the outer side of the right guillotine post on. “You are ready to demonstrate your courage to your, classmates, Holly. To make this really interesting for them, and for yourself, I want you to try to resist climaxing in any way you can. This way we can all have as much fun as possible watching your demonstration, but not knowing when the blade will fall. Cheryl will bandage you as soon as possible after the demonstration while I untie you. In a few minutes you will be in terrible pain, but it the bandages will make the pain become a distant memory very quickly. Have fun with your debreasting, sweet Holly!”

“Thanks, I sure will, Mr. Jennings!” Holly replied with a broad grin. “You don’t need to worry about me cumming too soon. We girls are taught climax aversion techniques in our sex education classes. I bet I can hold out for ten whole minutes!”

“Well, then, let’s see you prove that claim, Holly!” Bill said in his most encouraging tone before walking over to stand with Mrs. Ogsdale at the front of the class. He sincerely doubted any girl could last ten minutes strapped to a guillotine with her breasts through the lunette while an orgasmatron beam emitter beamed pleasure onto her clitoris.

Wanda sighed three times in climax as she watched the girl moan for the first time while being strapped into the guillotine. By Wanda’s third sigh, Janet’s staccato orgasmic gasps had joined the chorus of pleasure. Wanda’s climax had been in response to her recognizing the girl was in almost the same situation she had been put in when the Riddler had sliced away the breasts Wanda had been born with; the girl was going to have her balloons popped if she climaxed! Janet’s climax had no doubt been due to the fact that she had been daydreaming that the breasts she was looking at had been replaced with a penis!

Zatanna and Sue fared little better in their efforts to stave off orgasm. Watching a debreasting while being machine raped and machine milked was more than a little erotic; especially a debreasting that could happen at any second to a young girl strapped to a guillotine with her DD-cups trapped under the blade.

Holly moaned at the pleasure she was feeling in her loins as she watched her classmates stare unblinkingly at her doomed milk bags wearing the fascination they obviously felt on their faces. Holly was pleased to be the focus of so much attention for once in her life; attention that she had held for more than three minutes since Mr. Jennings had walked away from the guillotine. Her heart swelled with pride when she heard the two volunteer milk cows sigh in climax, and she grinned like a Cheshire cat when she looked over to the girls being machine raped and milked to find that she had the rapt attention of four of the most beautiful girls she had ever seen. The looks on their faces told her the blonde and raven-haired girls were close to joining the auburn-haired girls in sexual bliss.

Holly’s smile lessened as she realized the heat within her own sex was growing faster than she had expected. She looked up to the sharp guillotine blade dangling precariously above her huge boobs, and tried to imagine what it would feel like when the blade fell to pop her balloons and destroy the very assets that would lead to her becoming a milk cow if she still possessed them when her number came up in The Lottery. Holly knew it was going to hurt when the blade severed her tender flesh; she had seen the pain on the faces of all three of the teachers that had demonstrated various debreasting techniques before she had been allowed her turn. She didn’t care how much agony she was put through—Holly wanted her milk bags gone from her chest!

The pleasure in her loins grew ever more pleasant, and after taking a quick look out to her classmates to see many of the girls playing with their breasts or slipping fingers between labial lips, and the tented crotches of the boys pants, Holly grinned back upward to stare unblinkingly at the deadly blade. She wanted to watch the blades entire downward path when it fell, and she knew from the way her pussy was juicing it would fall soon. Holly knew she wouldn’t be able to stave off a nice big cum for much longer. She loved the sensations caused by the pleasure beam bathing her sex!

“OOoohhHH! OoHHH! OooooOHH! NNnnnggGGHH!” Holly gasped in ecstasy and her eyes began to roll back as the powerful climax rocked her body and mind. Somehow she managed to force her eyelids open and the focus of her gaze to remain on the guillotine blade above her as she orgasmed. She watched as it began to fall, the first few inches of its downward plunge seeming to take an eternity as the passage of time in Holly’s world seemed to slow to a crawl.

Holly could hear the noise around her—the swoosh caused by the blade as it rushed downward through the air gaining velocity as it accelerated, the rattling roar of the mouton’s guidance rods in the guillotine’s post grooves, the gasps of her female classmates that were beginning to become screams, and the sighs, gasps, and, moans of raucous rapture being issued by all four of the volunteer milk cows as they climaxed while watching the blade fall.

“HUuhhH?” Holly heard herself gasp as she felt on the front of her chest a sudden downward yank as the bottom edge of the angled guillotine blade passed in front of her face and then out of site as it dropped below the upper edge of her debreasting lunette. This was followed by a loud clang as the blade bottomed out on the blade stops at the bases of the guillotine posts, and then a wet double plop. Holly pushed her head forward over the lunette, and looked downward so that she could see the causes of the plops—two DD-Cup breasts resting with turgid pinkish-brown nipples pointing upwards on the silver tray on the floor in front of the guillotine blade that now was decorated with a few red streaks of blood.

Holly’s befuddled mind thought the breasts looked familiar, and then her chest suddenly burned with agony, dragging a low, gasping, pain-filled moan from her throat. Holly suddenly realized that the extremely unpleasant burning pain from her chest was due to the fact that the large breasts on the tray were her hated milk bags—she had been granted her wish to have her big balloons popped. Now she couldn’t ever be converted into a milk cow! That cruel fate had been forestalled forevermore! “NNNNnnnnggggGGGGHHHH!” Holly gasped as she joined the volunteer milk cows in their orgasmic symphony.

“I did it!” Holly screamed seconds later, grinning at her classmates despite the agony emanating from her chest wounds and the mind numbing pleasure washing through her loins. “My milk bags are history! My big balloons got popped! Shit that was hot! Damn, I wish I could go again!” As the adrenalin began to fail to compensate for the destruction that had been thrust upon the young girl whose breasts had been assassinated by the guillotine blade, the world around her began to become a hazy dream as she began to swoon. Fortunately, Bill and Cheryl had just reached the girl, and Bill went to work untying the girl’s twine. Cheryl began to clean Holly’s wounds as soon as Bill pulled her back from the lunette and sat her on the bench, round bandages ready and waiting for her to finish with the washcloth.

Chapter 8. Man’s Genius for Murder

Wanda gasped in ecstasy as climax after climax was ripped from her genitals by the Rape-O-Matic 3000 fucking machine’s thick foot-long phallus as it was plunged relentlessly in and out of her vagina—once the sight of the guillotine debreasting had sent her tumbling into sexual bliss, Wanda couldn’t stop the orgasms from washing through her body and drowning all attempts at coherent thought. ‘Good heck, I’ve got to regain my composure.’ filtered into Wanda’s chaotic brain. ‘What must the students be thinking of me…no…us…by the sounds their making my friends are having the same problem I am. At least they can’t tease me, this time! Wouldn’t it be ironic if the four of us were climaxed to death?’

The other heroines were indeed, also having climax after climax ripped from their loins. Janet was savoring the experience. Zatanna was struggling for composure, but losing ground; she feared she would finally find out what ‘being tamed’ actually meant. Sue struggled for composure as well, and was slowly beginning to pull her thoughts together. She knew that she and her friends needed their sex machines to be turned off—preferably soon! She turned her attention back to the front of the dairy as Cheryl walked by carrying Holly’s donated breast bacon towards her counter. She saw the bandaged Holly in the middle of her classmates dancing with joy as she received pats on the back from her friends. Bill was talking to Mrs. Ogsdale, no doubt getting the information he needed before he moved on to the next subject to be introduced to the field-trip class—full conversion.

Sue looked over to the counter where Cheryl was washing the freshly harvested DD-cups clean. Sue stared pleadingly at Cheryl until she finally caught the waitress’s eyes. Cheryl smiled and nodded to Sue, before returning to her work, leaving the four heroines to sigh and moan in orgasm in their milking stalls. Finally, Cheryl finished cleaning the huge breast bacon lumps, and set them on the blood red cloth-lined tray already holding three other sets of severed breasts and one severed clitoris. Then she quickly walked over to the milking stalls, and moved down the line of heroines, starting with Janet and ending with Zatanna, and turned off their sex machines.

“Thanks, Cheryl,” Sue said obviously relieved, “you’re the real heroine here. Those machines are positive proof that a girl can get too much of a good thing! My friends thank you too, and will do so their selves once their minds become less muddled. Thank heavens I had my rape-o-matic set on its lowest speed setting!”

“You’re welcome, Miss Sue,” Cheryl said in her ever pleasant tone, but wearing a mischievous grin on her face. “I must admit, I was tempted to take care of my next task, swapping out the debreasting lunette and replacing the neck lunette on the guillotine after cleaning up any blood, before turning off your machines. I’m really curious about what happens to a superheroine when she gets ‘tamed’!”

Sue laughed wearing a broad smile on her face, and said, “You’re pretty much looking at it! If some villain had done this to Zatanna, she would pretty much do anything asked of her to avoid having her rape machine turned back on. She would be his sex slave forever!”

“I’m not quite THAT bad off yet, Sue,” Zatanna gasped still breathing hard but wearing a smile. “Thanks, Cheryl! Another few minutes of sexual bliss and I would have been willing to offer every orifice I have to Sue’s fictional villain, as well as his entire gang, with no thought of escaping that sad fate for the rest of my life. Tamed indeed!”

Cheryl laughed and nodded, “Now that does sound like a fate worse than death, especially if the villain was instead a villainess! If the villain and his men were handsome, well-hung studs, I might enjoy being tamed. You probably don’t yet understand how hard it is for a girl to find a well-hung stud willing to play with her these days!”

“Cheryl, you are a gorgeous girl, and intelligent too!” Mr. Jennings interjected, having just turned his attention to the conversation that had been taking place behind him and Mrs. Ogsdale. “You have but to ask and I’m at your service. You could be my mistress if you like, as well as head waitress.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Jennings!” Cheryl spat blushing. “I like you a lot, Mr. Jennings, and think you’re way cool, but we’re not having relations unless I get the whole fairytale. Any waitress at Final Fantasy having voluntary sex with you would end up with her fillet purchased and spitted before being allowed to do the horizontal pole dance over one of the barbecue pits. The other waitresses would have chipped in to pay for said fillet and bribed one of the customers to make the request.”

It was evident that Cheryl was uncharacteristically worked up as she continued, “Besides, Sir, I thought you were going to make an offer on young Barbara, over there! Oh! Shit! Sorry, Sir! That’s none of my business! I better get back to work replacing the neck lunette. How do you want it positioned, Sir?”

Bill chuckled quietly before replying, “Position it for a girl about your height to be standing bent over with her legs widespread before the lunette is closed around her neck, Cheryl. That means you should also disengage the bench and push it back with the long side against the wall.”

Bill laughed as the color drained from Cheryl’s face and she turned to go back to her counter to get the neck lunette halves, and then continued, “However, Cheryl, don’t bother yourself about anything you said. These four in the milking stalls have been much more forward than that. If we stand a girl behind that guillotine today, it most certainly won’t be you. You are, without doubt, my best head waitress so far. You are much too valuable an asset to Final Fantasy for me to be the cause of your earning a pension or your parents getting a separation bonus. Watch out for these girls’ men on Friday night though; I fear your fillet might just get snapped up then.”

The heroines and Bill watched a very nervous Cheryl rush off to set up the guillotine in the fashion Bill had requested. “Bill, I think Cheryl likes you very much,” Sue said softly. “Would you consider offering her the whole fairytale, meaning marriage and a papered status?”

“Matchmaking, Susan, is best done by someone knowing and understanding all of the issues,” Bill said with a chuckle. “Cheryl IS too valuable to lose as head waitress because of how well she does her job, though she will be lost someday due to either a forced booth stay or someone purchasing her very tasty looking fillet when she is on potential menu item duty. However, more importantly, I haven’t told her about Club X. I don’t know how she would react to having her life being risked in games of chance. Any wife of mine has to enjoy our twice-a-year game nights.”

“Crap!” Zatanna spat. “That puts me out of the running to become the next Mrs. Jennings! I found Club X exhilarating and interesting, but I can’t say I enjoyed being forced to debase myself through public masturbation before nearly getting killed under a guillotine blade. I was within seconds of losing the enema water I was forced to hold as I stood bent over with my head in the lunette! As Sue and Janet are married, you’ll have to settle for Wanda. Or, do you plan to make an offer for Barbara?”

“Two matchmakers now, Wanda,” Bill said with a chuckle. “Is that part of a heroine’s duties? Although, I think that you would be a real prize, and not a girl any man would think he settled for, I’m not sure you qualify either. Could you see yourself back at Club X?”

Wanda blushed as she giggled, before replying, “No, matchmaking is not part of a heroine’s duties, and, evidently, neither Sue nor Zatanna are very good at it. The answer to your second question is, maybe. I’d like to talk to you further about Club X, Bill, find how the club got started, and learn what activities take place after the lottery. Seeing as we left early, I want to know what excitement I missed. However, don’t you think you better get back to work? The students are getting antsy!”

Bill Jennings chuckled as he turned around to take care of business. He liked it when a pretty girl took charge of things!

“Okay, girls and boys, let’s get started again,” Bill called out loudly, trying to regain control of the students. “We’ve talked about partial conversion, and had four demonstrations of partial conversion through breast bacon donation to the world-wide food chain. As I mentioned earlier, every girl is expected to undergo full conversion and contribute to the world-wide food chain at some age. We’ve seen what full conversion to milk cow is like, now let’s talk about the other forms of full conversion, and how a girl becomes converted.”

Bill cleared his throat before continuing, “Let’s be clear here, except for milk cows, full conversion means that the girl, after being deemed a sow, is being converted to meat—live roaster, long pig, meat cuts, or ground meat. What form of meat, a girl is likely to be converted to, is dependent on her grading, Grade A through D, and a girl should always keep in mind that the grading depends on condition as well as physical attributes. Condition can be difficult to maintain as a girl gets older, so a girl’s grading can slide down the scale with age. To be even clearer, appallingly blunt in fact, undergoing full conversion means a girl is ending her life cycle—something is going to be used to execute her.”

“Let’s talk about execution methods and machines,” Bill said looking out at the students, amazed, as always, that the girls’ faces were filled with intense interest and not a hint of fear. “In the earliest periods of our existence, before we even learned to use caves for shelter, if a girl was going to be executed, she would probably get brained by being hit over the head with a large rock. Braining has continued to be an execution method throughout history. At the end of the period we call Ancient History, some tribes in Africa did make machines to brain victims. Such machines exist today, but are rarely used as braining is a relatively uninteresting way to convert a girl to meat. However, man has great genius when it comes to murder, and many other execution methods and machines have been invented which are much more interesting than braining. Let’s look at some of the machines lining the margins of this dairy, starting with the far left corner of the room. Follow me, students, and form two lines facing the wall, keeping plenty of distance from the milk cows.”

As Bill stood before the heavy wooden block with the wide-bladed headsman’s axe imbedded in the top of the block, he said, “The first method of execution we are going to talk about is decapitation, also called beheading. Decapitation was being used as an execution method before recorded history. The methods used to behead a person got more refined as technology evolved, until the ultimate decapitation machine was invented—the guillotine, which we have already discussed.”

“What you see here are some less refined tools to be used to behead someone—the block with a headman’s axe imbedded in it,” Bill continued with a smile. “The girl about to undergo full conversion via beheading takes her knees and places her chin in the hollowed area at the front of the block; if her hands have already been tied behind her back, this will require the executioner’s help, and naturally occurs after the axe has been pulled out of the block. With the target being the girl’s neck over the level area at the back of the block, the headsman holds the axe high over his head and swings downward. The headman’s axe was the method of execution reserved for royalty and other important people in some periods of history in some countries, while commoners were hanged if they were fortunate, or drawn and quartered or burnt at the stake if they were not.”

“Decapitation has always been considered a quick and relatively painless method of execution if the head is taken cleanly with a single blow—it was sometimes customary for the person about to be executed to tip the headsman in the hopes he would give his aim his full attention,” Bill said with a grin, happy to see he had everyone’s full attention. “Just how quick such a death is, has been a question many have sought to answer. There are historical records from medieval England of a scholar who had broken the monarch’s laws agreeing to be beheaded and then answering simple questions by blinking one eye for yes and the other eye for no—it is recorded that he answered questions correctly for twenty seconds after being decapitated.”

Bill moved back towards the front of the room, the students adjusting their positions accordingly, and pointed to the next execution device saying, “This is a modern garrote chair. A human can be garroted with any ligature, so the first death by garroting likely occurred during prehistoric times. Garroting devices such as this one where often used at the backs of standing posts. The first chair using a metal band to facilitate the garroting of a sitting victim is thought to be developed in Spain during the 1800s where it remained the principal method of execution in that and a few other countries until late in the 20^th Century.”

“As you can see, students, this modern garrote chair is equipped with wrist straps, elbow straps, ankle straps, knee straps, to restrain the sow undergoing full conversion, and a garrote.” Bill said softly as he pointed to the various elements. “Once the chair is activated, automated machinery causes the garrote to be pulled back into the sow’s neck until, say about five minutes later, her meat is ready for processing. Note that the garrote consists of one-inch diameter steel cable covered with soft plastic which circles the front of the neck below the larynx.”

“The way the frame is constructed, girls and boys” Bill said pointing at the garrote, “most of the pressure, as the garrote is tightened, is be placed of the garroted victim’s trachea rather than the carotid arteries at the sides of the neck, so the primary cause of death is asphyxiation. This is a particularly painful form of death, and in the later stages of suffocation the victim commonly struggles desperately as they suffer a phenomenon called air hunger. This is due more to a desperate need to breathe out carbon dioxide from the used up air in their lungs, rather than the need to breathe in new air.”

“There is one more feature of the chair I need to show you before we move on, girls and boys,” Bill said as he picked up a wooden mallet from the floor behind the chair. Bill wacked the back of the chair just below the garret with the mallet, and a pointed spike popped out of the chair back in a position where the center of neck of the sow sitting in the chair would be tightly secured by the garrote. “Students, the purpose of the spike is to make sure a sow deemed dead from strangulation is truly finished off. The spike driven by the mallet into the back of the sow’s neck severs the spinal cord assuring the sow’s status as meat. Okay, girls and boys, let’s move over to the other side of the room, beginning in the far corner.”

Bill led the students past a rectangular piece of furniture with three sets of paired holes in a lower central area, the cutting board, and then the box-like frame before walking down the other side of the room to the very corner to stand before the two stools, each under nooses. “These, students, are obviously nooses,” Bill said with a broad grin, “so now we get to talk about my favorite form of execution—hanging! There are four categories of hanging: suspension or no-drop hanging, short-drop hanging, standard-drop hanging, and long-drop hanging. In modern times we generally employ either no-drop or long-drop hangings.”

“I’ll get back to explaining the categories of hanging and how our modern terminology doesn’t match 21^st Century terminology momentarily,” Bill said with a twinkle in his eyes. “First, hanging is defined as the suspension or the partial suspension of a person by a ligature around the neck. The first person to be hanged likely was some careless individual during prehistoric time that tripped after accidentally getting a vine woven around his or her neck. Weighing history as a whole, hanging is the most widely used form of execution, and is also the most widely used method of committing suicide. Hanging is also one of the most appealing forms of execution in terms of viewing pleasure, because of the lack of blood involved and the dance the victim does, attempting to find a foothold for their feet.”

“Back to the categories of hanging,” Bill said with a grin, “the no-drop hanging is almost self explanatory. The girl begins her hanging experience on some removable surface on her tippy toes, and then said surface, say one of these stools, his removed, leaving the girl suspended without a yank to tighten her rope. Sooner or later, the girl will begin to dance, tightening her noose as she seeks something to relieve the pull of gravity on her neck. In modern times, the girl may be asked to dance until death, as a form of execution, or for a length of time randomly determined, usually by rolling two or three die, the summed numbers of the upward surfaces determining the length of suspension; in the latter case, the girl is being asked to dance to entertain, as a penalty for losing some game or wager, or as a competition against another girl to see who lives and who dies. Because of the common use of no-drop hanging in modern times, you girls are taught air dancing techniques and survival strategies in high school.”

“Now, onto the other categories of hanging,” Bill said with obvious enthusiasm. “The short-drop hanging describes any hanging in which the victim doesn’t start on tippy toes with a slack-less rope around her neck as the foot or body support is removed, resulting in a small and undefined drop tightening the neck noose. In the American west of Ancient times, the drop was due to a riding animal called a horse being pulled out from under the victim sitting on the horse. In other countries, the cart or wagon on which the victim stood was pulled out from under them.”

“Now, boys and girls, before we talk about standard-drop and long-drop hangings, we need to talk about how no-drop and short-drop hangings result in a sow’s termination,” Bill grinned at the rapt attention the students were giving him as he talked. “Unlike the garrote, where most of the pressure from the ligature is on the trachea at the front of the neck resulting in death by asphyxiation, most of the pressure during a hanging is on the side of the neck, especially if the noose knot is properly positioned on the side of the neck under the back of the sow’s chin. With the noose so positioned, the hanging results in a death due primarily to closure of the carotid arteries and jugular veins resulting in cerebral ischemia—death is due to the blood supply to the brain, and the oxygen carried by said blood, being restricted, slowly killing the brain.”

Bill chuckled before continuing, “Death by hanging may take more than twenty minutes, and some hanging victims remain fully conscious for more than a dozen minutes, making for really entertaining air dancing; because of the uncertainty of whether a sow has been successfully terminated by her hanging, I have the standard practice of leaving any sow undergoing full conversion in her noose until she is ready to be processed into meat, regardless of the length of time that has passed since she stopped dancing.”

“Occasionally, a short-drop hanging results in the victim’s neck being broke, usually the second cervical vertebra in its upper portion, resulting in paralysis or instant death,” Bill lectured on. “To reduce the uncertainty of the length of time of execution that accompanied a no-drop or short-drop hanging, executioners sought ways to try to make sure a broken neck was initiated by the hanging by increasing the length of the fall before the victim bottomed out at the end of their drop. For a standard-drop hanging, the victim dropped four to six feet. For a long-drop hanging, the length of the drop was determined by the victim’s weight, with the goal of generating a specific amount of force on the neck to ensure fracture, with the drop being between four and ten feet. This length of drop sometimes resulted in decapitation, a most unpleasant sight for the viewers of the execution.”

“Obviously, a gallows is required to properly accomplish what were historically called standard-drop and long-drop hangings,” Bill said with a smile. “In modern terminology a long-drop hanging refers to any hanging where there is a drop of more than six inches. The eighteen-inch-high stools you see on the floor before you, girls and boys, are the standard no-drop hanging perches. Note the notch in the left front leg where the cord that is used to yank the stool out from under the sow’s toes is tied. If you’ll look at the taller stools against the wall behind the nooses, you’ll note that these stools, used for modern long-drop hangings, have similar notches. The taller stools are three feet high. Thus, the best drop we can manage with this equipment is between eighteen inches and two feet—usually enough to fracture a sow’s neck.”

“Okay, girls and boys, let’s step to your right and talk about one final piece of execution equipment, the Jessica machine,” Bill said with a grin as the faces of the girls in the class lit up with obvious excitement. “First let me say that this Jessica has been temporarily deactivated; it wouldn’t do to end up with one of you girls succumbing to the girl trap’s appeal and ending up spitted. For those of you who go on to college, and visit me again as part of the women’s life-preparation classes, be forewarned that the Jessica will be live then, and I have at least one girl in every single one of those classes ending up doing the horizontal pole dance over one of my barbecue pits.” Bill smiled as the girls began giggling and chattering excitedly while the boy’s pants again tented at their crotches.

“Okay, okay, girls and boys, let’s keep our attention for a few more minutes,” Bill said jovially. “All of the previous execution devices we talked about can be used to turn a sow into a long pig, or ready her for meat grinding or butchering into parts. Only the Jessica machine has a high probability of preparing a sow to be live roasted. The Jessica machine was invented, in concept, late in the 20^th Century by an artist named Dolcett. Attempts to actually build a working machine were repeatedly made throughout the centuries that followed, but it wasn’t until after the plague during the 39^th Century that scientists found enough motivation to succeed. Succeed they did, and sows have been live roasting over hot coals or in ovens for 200 years now. One clarification, if the spitting is successful, the Jessica doesn’t terminate the sow, being slowly cooked to death does.”

“Let’s talk about the Jessica machine and its features,” Bill continued with a grin as he pointed at the Jessica machine behind him, which was elevated to about knee level above a rectangular stand by two metal rods that supported a long, narrow rectangular plank. “Note the open restraint here,” Bill pointed near the front of the plank where there 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.

“The open restraint here, “Bill said as he pointed to another feature, a little less than halfway back on the central plank where a short rod 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.

“And the open restraints here and here,” Bill said pointing at each of the outer planks with what was obviously knee pads at their forward end, making a point of touching the two vertical, narrow, leather-covered rectangles, one just behind the knee pads, and another, shorter one about two thirds of the way back that rose upwards from the inside of the planks.

“Those restraints are equipped with sensitive sensors that determine when a girl has been positioned or has, perhaps accidentally, positioned herself on the Jessica machine in the correct position to receive a spit,” Bill said grinning, as he realized many of the girls were again fingering their sex. “When the machine senses that, the restraints snap closed around her neck, waist, calves, and ankles, and the spit propeller is activated.” Bill pointed to the very end of the central plank, and the bullet-shaped device atop a thicker short rod, before continuing, “and the propeller then pushes this,” Bill pointed to the business end of a six-foot-long sharply pointed steel rod, “forward towards the sow’s vagina.”

“As the spit slowly moves forward,” Bill blushed as he could see many of the girls were now masturbating and making no attempt to hide that fact, “it parts the girl’s labial lips, enters her vagina, and continues into the girl’s vaginal cavity until it reaches the cervix. The sharp point of the spit is slowly forced forward until it pierces through the cervix, moves through the uterus, and then encounters the intestines. The spit is equipped with sensors to detect arteries and critical organs. As the spit continues its journey, the spit propeller makes small directional adjustments to make sure none of these arteries or critical organs are damaged. The spit continues through the intestines, into the stomach, up the esophagus, and out of the sow’s mouth between her teeth.”

“Once the spitting is completed,” Bill continued with a grin, “and the sow has been granted her final, cold steel, fuck, she is in little danger of expiring. Depending on how the sow is to be prepared for roasting, the automatic belly slitter might be employed so that the sow can be disemboweled to remove her intestines and other organs not needed to keep her alive over the short term, making room of course for some nice stuffing. Alternatively, or along with the stuffing, cooking oil and herbs might be injected into the sow’s breasts, after the tubes here and here have been rotated into vertical position and injection needles telescope out of them. Finally, an anal stabilizer is inserted into the sow’s anus and secured to the back of the spit. Then the sow is ready to be carried off on her spit to spend at least four hours over the coals. She’ll enjoy the warmth of the coals for quite some time, at least an hour, as she live roasts. In the end, we have a most tasty meal to be enjoyed by male and female alike. There you have it, girls and boys, some of the many options for completing a full conversion.”

“Now, why don’t you all enjoy examining the death machines and taking turns feeling what it feels like to lie on the Jessica machine for about ten minutes,” Bill said calmly. “Then when we reconvene, we will find out who our volunteer to demonstrate a full conversion is, and unveil one final surprise!” Bill walked to stand before the milking stalls, where Mrs. Ogsdale was already waiting; Bill needed a break from lecturing.

Chapter 9. The Field Trip Ends, But Not Without One Last Surprise

“Okay, girls, let’s talk about what we can do to make this world a better place,” Wanda said softly as she glanced at each heroine in turn, “while realizing that as long as girls are the only source of meat, there isn’t any way we can end the gynophagia that has become a way of life here. That means we are not going to be able to put an end to the lotteries, such as the one that took Bonita’s life, or the death games, such as those that took Tara and Beatriz’s lives.”

“Yes, you’re right, Wanda,” Janet said nodding, “and I don’t think we should be trying to put an end to things that are considered lawful here, at least until we can learn about how this time period came to be the way it is. If we find out the laws have been maliciously enforced, or that there is no longer a need for them, then I may change my mind. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the fruits of that gynophagia, and savor my breast bacon sandwiches—especially the ones made from my fellow heroines’ tits!”

All four heroines laughed loudly, which brought a broad grin to Janet’s face, until Zatanna pointed out, “You’ve tasted all three of us, Janet. You can be sure I’m going to be trying to talk your husband into trading his fillet money for your breasts after they get poached Friday night!”

As Janet’s face began to redden, Sue jumped in to further wind her up by announcing, “Yes, Janet, even though I’m going to stick with mostly vegetarian sandwiches from now on, I will most certainly make an exception for sandwiches made from your breast meat! Actually, the concept of gynophagia no longer bothers me. Well not a lot at least. I could see myself trying a fillet at that restaurant Mike Simon owns that Marge told us about.”

“YES!” Janet spat excitedly, “I would like to see what it’s like to order meat cuts from a girl as she stands beside your table. I’m also curious to see how Jeanette faired after her night at Club X.”

“Well, at least it sounds like we have some common ground to start with,” Wanda replied with a smile on her face. “We, I mean, Janet, successfully convinced Bill to end the involuntary death games at Final Fantasy, although, judging from the devices around us that were just described in gory detail, that pledge evidently doesn’t apply to this dairy. Therefore, we use Final Fantasy as our base when we are ready to start righting wrongs.”

“Are you sure you can keep your hooters out of the debreasting portals long enough to right any wrongs, Wanda?” Zatanna asked with a grin on her face. “Won’t the temptation to get your bacon poached be too much for you?”

“Don’t be mean, Zatanna,” Janet said softly before quipping, “I’m sure that Wanda could keep her boobs from being busted while we acted like the heroines we are. Then she could celebrate our victories by letting her big balloons get popped just before we go home!”

With a deepening blush, Wanda replied, “Okay, I’ve probably earned this ribbing, but let’s talk seriously for a minute, girls. I have a suggestion as to where we can start righting wrongs—the illegal foxhunts. The girls hunted by the men running those games are being kidnapping off the streets at night, and then used to provide the men sadistic fun before getting spits shoved up their vaginas. The girls’ meat doesn’t end up as part of the world-wide food chain. The government can’t be happy about that. I say we ask around and see if we can find out where the girls are being kidnapped from. Then we get ourselves kidnapped, and teach the bastards running the hunts a brutal lesson!”

“I’m in, Wanda,” Sue said softly, “but we better be careful about how we go about it. One miscalculation and we’re the ones getting spits pushed through our guts! I’ve thought of another thing to inquire about, and I think you may have picked up on this too. Club X has been collecting long pigs to be used for their Sunday picnics for over 600 years. Gynophagia was being practiced to at least to some degree 400 years before the plague destroyed the farm animals. Could the plague have been intentionally let loose on the world to make gynophagia a legitimate practice?”

“I’m in too, Wanda,” Janet said with a grin. “Besides, with Zatanna and her magic on our side, what threat could some stupid cannibals be to the likes of us? I also have something that I think we should investigate. Those three sisters that I’ve twice shared booth stints with seem to believe that the government has perfected cloning, and is hiding the fact that they have done so to maintain their current firm control on the naturally born girls of this world, rather than using the clones as the world-wide food source. With naturally born girls outnumbering men, they could easily take over political control. No, I’m not advocating the use of cloned humans, if they do indeed exist, as food animals; that wouldn’t be right either, assuming we agree clones are sentient beings. However, if human clones can be made, well, there must be genetic material from the farm animals stored somewhere. If that were true, well, perhaps this world’s laws are unjust and it’s time to revolt!”

“Well, it sounds like you girls plan to spend quite some time in this future world,” Zatanna said with a soft chuckle. “Let me give this some thought before I commit to the foxhunt, although I agree those men running the hunts deserve whatever punishment you plan on dishing out to them. I need to make a point, for your own safety—don’t count on my magic as a secret weapon. It’s a pretty unreliable weapon considering a simple ball gag puts an end to its use!”

Janet stared in disbelief at Zatanna for a few seconds. There was something about the magic-wielder’s words that made Janet believe something was being left unsaid. Then she glanced out to the room in front of her, and saw that Bill was turning to address the students again. She looked over to her milk-storage container and gasped, before announcing, “Holy heck! I’ve got, I mean, we each have more than three-and-a-half liters of mother’s milk in our tanks, and I’m still squirting strong. I think I’m about to set a new record for myself, and we’ve only been in our stalls for about ninety minutes. Frigging INCREDIBLE!” The four heroines giggled together.

“Alright, girls and boys, it’s time to finish up with the final items on our field trip agenda,” Bill announced loudly. “Return to your places in front of me please.”

After the students and teachers had retaken their positions at the front of the room, Bill restarted his spiel, “The last thing we will do as part of this field-trip class, girls and boys, is to demonstrate the process of full conversion while continuing our discussion of meat grading. For the benefit of my head waitress, Cheryl, and my volunteers in the milking booths, I want to make it clear that the school requires this to be part of this field-trip’s curriculum. Tell us, Mrs. Ogsdale, were you teachers told how many of you would be on the return trip from this field trip?”

“We were, Mr. Jennings,” Mrs. Ogsdale replied in a calm, loud voice, “Principal Boyers himself told us all, together, just before we boarded the bus, that seven teachers would be making the return trip. Ladies, it is time for all of us to line up along the wall, where some of you have already stood once while waiting to find out if you would be part of the debreasting demonstrations.”

The nine teachers quickly cued up and formed the line, most of them obviously extremely nervous. As Bill turned to examine the lineup, Cheryl rushed over from behind her counter and handed him nine lengths of twine. Starting with the teacher nearest the door, Bill made his way down the lineup behind the teachers, tying the wrists of each girl behind her back. Bill, once finished, moved to stand before the last teacher to have been tied, Mrs. Ogsdale, and said, “Earlier, Mrs. Ogsdale, you said that there will be at least one volunteer for full conversion. Precisely how many volunteers for full conversion are there here today?”

“There is only one volunteer for full conversion, Mr. Jennings, and that volunteer is myself,” Mrs. Ogsdale announced bringing gasps of fear from the other eight teachers. “Last year, my husband was killed in a hunting accident, removing my papered status and protection from the lottery. I had always told him that participating in those non-government-sponsored foxhunts would be the end of both of us. Next week, I turn 40, which as you all know means immediate mandatory conversion at a government-run facility due to my current un-papered status.”

“Rather than being eviscerated while standing before the meat grinders, and then beheaded by pincher blades while contemplating my guts on the floor between my feet, before finally having my body shoved into the rolling meat shredding gears, I’ve decided to take advantage of your more interesting options, Mr. Jennings,” Mrs. Ogsdale said softly without a hint of fear or remorse. “I’ll miss these students and my fellow teachers dearly, but my time has come.”

“Yes, Mrs. Ogsdale, it has,” Mr. Jennings said matter-of-factly. “I think we can all see why you were willing to bend the rules earlier today. If you don’t mind, Mrs. Ogsdale, I think we should proceed with your demonstration now, before I select the second teacher to demonstrate the full conversion of a non-volunteer, lest you get talked into bending the rules yet again. Would you like to choose your own method of conversion, Mrs. Ogsdale, or should I choose?”

“I want to leave this world knowing fully what it is like to have the life ripped from me,” Mrs. Ogsdale replied with a laugh. “You seemed to think that the garrote was a particularly unpleasant way to get turned into meat, so I guess I would like to die sitting down.”

“Very well, Mrs. Ogsdale, walk over and stand in front of the chair,” Bill said softly, and then turned and followed the skinny, blue-eyed brunette as she obeyed his command. When the two reached the front of the chair, Bill untied the head teacher’s hands, pulled her around until her back was to the execution machine and her clean-shaven fillet facing the milking stalls, and said, “You may take a seat now, sow, and then I’ll get you strapped down.”

As the teacher complied, Bill tossed the twine length to Cheryl before securing the straps around the teacher’s ankles, knees, wrists, and elbows, in that order. Then he closed the garrote, attached to the back of the chair on the right side of Mrs. Ogsdale’s neck, by rotating it to the left and bolting it to its retracting frame. He picked up the wooden mallet from the floor behind the chair, and flipped on the automatic retraction switch on the back of the chair. With a sudden low hum accompanied by a faint clicking sound, the chair sprain to life and the garrote began retracting against the teacher’s windpipe.

As Mrs. Ogsdale felt the garrote being pulled back into her neck, she immediately gulped all the air she could into her lungs while it was still possible to do so—while she was volunteering to die as a demonstration of full conversion, she wanted her termination to take as long as possible. Unfortunately, she was almost immediately overcome with the choke reflex, and as she gagged and coughed, she lost more air than she had gained. The teacher’s face grew quite red, and her eyes bugged out. When she suddenly realized that she couldn’t get any air at all, due to the constriction around her throat, Mrs. Ogsdale felt panic fill her soul.

As seconds became minutes and the garrote continued to be pulled back into the front of the sow’s neck, the choke reflex eased, but was slowly replaced by a pounding headache, which Mrs. Ogsdale knew meant that partial occlusion of the blood flow from her carotid arteries to her brain was joining the lack of oxygen in her lungs in stealing the life from her body. Her face had turned deep purple by the time the teacher began jerking around in her chair, fighting her bonds, and desperately trying to exhale through her compressed trachea as the air hunger Mr. Jennings had spoken of overwhelmed all other needs. The feeling was terrifying and terribly painful, but soon the world around her blurred, and darkness swallowed her mind. The head teacher had been meat for more than two full minutes before Mr. Jennings used the wooden mallet to drive the spike into her neck, severing the ex-sow’s spinal column.

“Thank you for your attention, girls and boys, to that unpleasant demonstration,” Mr. Jennings said softly and with sadness in his voice. “While I’m sure there are many lessons that can be learned from that demonstration, I’ll try to concentrate on those dealing with grading. I had known Mrs. Ogsdale for many years, and my late wife and I had even had dinner with her and her late husband on several occasions. I know she was originally given a Grade B rating; the B-cups she used to carry the primary reason for that rating. By waiting until she was just shy of 40, she was allowing her meat to drop to a Grade D rating. A few days before reaching that age isn’t going to make her cuts anymore useful to me than they would have been on her birthday at the government-run facility, so it’s the grinder for her meat anyhow. The lesson girls, is get yourself culled while your meat is valuable. Don’t let your meat spoil out of a selfish wish to live a few years longer. Your meat isn’t yours; it belongs to the world-wide food chain!”

Bill walked over to stand before the remaining eight teachers in the lineup and announced, “I’m sure that you teachers are expecting me to ask one of you to volunteer in a second demonstration of a full conversion, but I’m not going to ask that of you.” Bill paused as he watched hope flood back into the faces that had been filled with various levels of nervous fear. “That is because, as a man in this society, I do not have to ask you to volunteer—I’m just going to take what I want, and you as un-papered girls have no say in the matter. This is the lesson I want the students to learn, though I know it is a hard lesson for one of you to teach.”

“One of the reasons I’m not asking for a volunteer,” Bill said calmly while smiling his friendliest smile, “is that I have decided I want a nice juicy fillet for dinner. So the girl I select to make the next demonstration of a full conversion to meat is carrying the fillet I want for tonight’s dinner right now, here before me, at the apex of her legs. We will talk about your fillet and your grading, teachers, as I move down the lineup, one girl at a time.”

Bill quickly moved down to the girl who had been standing next to Mrs. Ogsdale and said, “Hello again, Miss Sorensen. Have the bandages taken care of the pain from the wounds I inflicted upon you?”

“Yes they have, Mr. Sorensen,” Samantha replied in a soft quivering voice. “Thank you for asking sir. Like most girls these days, I’ve had myself pre-graded. Would you like to know what rating I received, although I don’t know if that rating still holds now that…?”

Mr. Jennings didn’t reply, but instead placed his hands on either side of Samantha’s waist, rubbed his right hand over her belly, and then cupped both butt cheeks in his palms, one hand on each cheek. Then Bill kneeled, inspected the bandaged, landing strip-covered pubic mound, tested the firmness of the flesh at the sides of the teacher’s vulva, and then parted her labium and inspected the thickness of her lower lips.

Bill stood and asked, “You received a Grade B rating, did you not Miss Sorensen?” As he watched Samantha nod, Bill said, “A very nice rating for a girl with such small breasts, no doubt because of your lovely impish face.” He watched as the girl began to blush, before saying, “The loss of a girl’s breasts usually drops her one rating, and the loss of the clitoral glans devalues the fillet.” Bill said softly, and watched as Samantha looked crestfallen. Bill added, “You’ll still make fine cuts of meat, Samantha, if you don’t wait too much longer before you allow yourself to be harvested. Wait too long and your meat’s fate will be the same as Mrs. Ogsdale’s, and it will be the meat grinder for you.” He watched as Samantha nodded to indicate she understood and said, “You’ve already done enough today, Samantha, to help these students learn. Go and join them.”

As Samantha hurried to join the students, Bill stepped to the right where the next girl in the lineup was one of the three remaining breasted teachers. The girl was a petite Latino in her late twenties with brown eyes and black hair and carrying slightly swooping B-cups tipped with brownish nipples and areolae; she stood quivering in obvious trepidation. “What is your name, Miss, and what subject do you teach at school?” Bill asked softly using his friendliest voice.

“I am Mary Garcia, Mr. Jennings, and I teach biology,” the girl rasped. “I have not been pre-graded, Sir.”

“Then we won’t know if I guess wrongly, will we Miss Garcia?” Bill said and then chuckled. “Relax as I inspect your meat, girl. You’ll be just fine, whatever I decide.” Bill gently cupped the girl’s small breasts in his hands and then continued his inspection in the same manner as he had with Samantha, noting the girl’s lovely black princess cut above her vulva. “I believe you will receive a Grade B rating, Miss Garcia, especially if you put a bit more work into keeping your body toned. You may make a fine long pig, but more likely fine meat cuts.” Bill stepped to the right, sensing rather than seeing the look of disappointment on Mary’s face as she realized she wasn’t being dismissed from the lineup.

Bill smiled and said, “Hello again Miss Rivendale,” Bill said with a genuine smile on his face. “Before I decide whether or not to let you donate the rest of your assets to my profit margin, Deloris, to join the C-cup sized bacon lumps you have already generously donated, why don’t you tell me what subject you teach at school?”

The vibrant twenty-year old redhead, smiled her sexiest smile and flashed her beautiful blue eyes at the man before her before replying, “I teach mathematics, Mr. Jennings, and I did get pre-graded just after high school. I received a Grade A rating, which means that now I’m a Grade B. I don’t mind the drop in grade one bit. I think live roasting is a way overrated conversion method, not that I don’t appreciate watching a good horizontal pole dance!” This brought laughs and giggles from around the room.

“Yes, I quite concur with your logic, Miss Rivendale,” Bill said with a broad smile, “and, as I run a debreasting booth nightclub, sincerely hope that logic works for all of the breasted girls on this field trip.” Once the giggles generated by Bill’s reply died down, he said, “Let’s see if you’ve maintained your grading, and, more importantly, if I covet your fillet.” Bill conducted his usual inspection of the meat before him, ending up on his knees with a very juicy, clean-shaven fillet before him. As Mary’s fillet was definitely out of the running, he briefly considered sending her out of the lineup, but decided not to. “You’ve maintained your grading very nicely, Deloris. You should be very proud of yourself! You are definitely a long pig.”

Bill stepped to his right and said, “Hello, Miss Nakamura, how are your chest wounds doing?” Bill noted the oriental girl again wore a nervous smile, and that her almond-brown eyes were still filled with interest.

“Hello again, Mr. Jennings,” Mariko replied in her sing-song voice. “Thank you for being so kind to ask, but my chest isn’t in any pain at all. Your bandages work wonderfully. I can feel my breasts are gone, bringing to me a sense of loss, but otherwise I am well and happy. I was not ever pre-graded.”

“It is good, that you are well and happy, Mariko,” Bill said softly to the beautiful raven-haired girl. “I can assure you without checking, that you were Grade A meat and are now Grade B meat. “Still I’ll conduct my inspection ending with the examination of a clean-shaven fillet that I feel quite certain I will find most tempting.” Bill conducted his inspection in the same business-like manner he had used with the previous three girls, before ending up on his knees staring at some very succulent looking Japanese food. He was very tempted to take Mariko’s fillet home with him. “Very nice fillet, Miss Nakamura, and you’ll make a fine long pig if I don’t snatch up your fillet today,” Bill announced after taking his feet grinning broadly. “Your asset is nice enough to consider leaving you in this lineup, but like Miss Sorensen, I believe you’ve contributed enough already to your students’ education this day. You may rejoin Miss Sorensen and your students, Miss Nakamura.”

Bill stepped to his right, as Mariko hurried over to join her students, and said “Hello again, Miss Wilson. I trust your bandages are working well for you?”

“They are, Mr. Jennings,” Penny said softly, some fear in her voice. “I was pre-graded, barely managing a Grade A rating, so I’m likely a Grade B or C now.”

“I see, Penny,” Mr. Jennings said nodding. “Let me do my little inspection, and then I’ll give you my opinion.” Bill just did that, ending up on his knees again before Penny’s clean-shaven sex. Penny’s fillet was thick and juicy looking, but not as succulent looking as Deloris’s or Mariko’s. Bill stood and announced, “Definitely a Grade B long pig now, Penny, and I’ll wager in the running for teacher of the year again in the future. In spite of the fact that I’m sure you enjoyed your debreasting today, I think you’ve done enough for education’s cause. Rejoin Miss Sorensen, Miss Nakamura, and your students.” The students applauded loudly as Penny rushed to join them.

Bill stepped to his right and said, “Hello, Miss Taylor, and thanks for tipping me off earlier. I don’t believe you told me what subject you teach at school. Would you care to say?”

Monica Taylor smiled as Mr. Jennings acknowledged her help, and then replied, “You’re welcome, Sir! I teach journalism and oversee the publication of the school newspaper. I was pre-graded and received a Grade A rating, and not just because of my D-cups either, so I’m probably a Grade B now.”

“Well, I’ll give you my opinion momentarily, Miss Taylor,” Mr. Jennings said with a smile, and went to work performing the inspection. The slight chubbiness of the girl was evident as he checked her waist and belly, but less evident through the buttocks. As Bill knelt before the girl’s clean-shaven fillet, he could see that it was thick and juicy, but a little soft from the girl’s extra weight. Bill stood, and said, “Yes, a Grade B rating and most likely a conversion to long pig will be in your future, Monica. However, to speak frankly, you need to get your weight down and your body toned, or you may slip a grade before you turn thirty.” Bill watched the girl’s brown eyes tear as he stepped sideways, but saw that she was nodding that she understood as well.

Bill stood before a lovely long-haired blonde in her early twenties with hazel eyes and perfect pinkish-tipped C-cups. Bill looked thoughtful for a moment before lifting his hands to the C-Cups and testing their weight in the palms of his hands, before asking, “Would you like to tell me your name, Miss, and what subject you teach at school?”

Surprise filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked down at the hands cupping her breasts, but she kept a pretty smile on her fashion model face, as she replied nervously, “My name is Rachel Hartnell, Mr. Jennings. I teach this class, home economics, and no, I haven’t been pre-graded, so I’ll be interested in your opinion.” Bill chuckled as the girl tried to adjust her face into a more sultry expression; she seemed to be well aware of her smoking-hot good looks.

“Let me make my inspection then, Miss Hartnell,” Bill replied with laughter still in his voice. Reluctantly, Bill dropped his hands to explore her well-toned body, and then dropped to his knees to inspect a very nice fillet topped by a thin blonde Brazilian. The fillet was tight and lean, probably perfect for sex, but probably not the finest meat cut in the lineup. Bill stood and said, “As I’m quite sure you’ve guessed for yourself, Rachel, you are most definitely Grade A and will someday make a fine live roaster—unless of course someone can talk you into an early partial donation, hopefully at Final Fantasy.” Bill chuckled as the girl blushed badly, and stepped to his right.

Bill smiled his friendliest smile and said, “Hello, Miss Thomas, and thanks for your help with Mariko on the cutting board earlier. What subject do you teach at East High School?”

The Grade-A brown-eyed brunette sporting perfect D-cups tipped with turgid pinkish-brown nipples and areolae shook her head to throw her long hair, currently draping over the front of her right shoulder, behind her back as she watched Bill reach for her breasts. She grinned sexily as the man gauged her chest ornaments’ weight in the palms of his hands while he worked his thumbs around her hardening nipples, and replied, “Like Mariko, I teach art, and yes I’ve been pre-graded and received a Grade-A live roaster status.”

Bill smiled, feeling a little uncomfortable as the crotch of his pants tented under the sexy grin, and said, “I’ll have to check for myself, naturally, Miss Thomas.” Bill carried out his inspection in the normal matter, but once he started examining the girl’s labium below a dark patch of pubic hair trimmed into a decorative diamond-shape cardshark he dawdled. He allowed his fingers to linger, running them through the girl’s moist labial lips while gently brushing her swollen clitoris with his thumb, earning a nice low moan of pleasure from the girl. There was no doubt that this girl’s fillet was thick and juicy and deserving of any man’s dinner plate. Bill stood, his right hand still fingering the brunette’s sex, and announced, “I concur with your grader, Helen, that you are most definitely Grade A. As my inspection of you teachers’ fillets is now complete, I can now begin the final demonstration.” Bill smiled as Helen continued to use her sexy smile on him as he made his announcement, with not a hint of fear in her eyes.

Bill stepped back, pulling his hand from the brunette’s vulva, and turned to the class, saying, “However, before I escort one girl to the stool below the nearest noose, and let her perform a sexy air dance for us without the benefit of a dice role, I want to clarify some misunderstandings about the meat grading system. A girl’s grading indicates her preferred usage, but a Grade C sow may end up being used as a long pig, and a Grade A sow is commonly rendered to meat cuts.”

Bill continued his lecture with, “Many Grade A’s are sold by the government conversion facilities to restaurants, where the sows are put on display until they are ordered for live roasting. Many other Grade A sows are sold to the local meat markets, such as the one in your local grocery store, where they are also put on display until either ordered to be prepared via live roasting, and their meat taken home cooked, or they are purchased from the store as takeout to be live roasted by strangers over the purchaser’s barbecue pit. Once a sow is purchased from the government conversion facility, both the restaurant and the meat market must sell the live roaster quickly, or the sow begins to use up monetary resources and personnel time. These establishments frequently decide their best option is to convert the sow to meat via execution, and use her as a long pig or render her to meat cuts. So much for the glamorous Grade A live roaster designation!”

“Now, girls and boys, lets finish this field trip off with some fun, well for everyone but one, I guess,” Bill quipped with a smile. “The teacher that is about to become a sow and provide me with her succulent fillet after fifteen to twenty minutes of air dancing is….” Bill stared at Helen, and then at Rachel, and then at Deloris, and then at Monica, before finishing with, “Miss Taylor. Can you take a perch on the near stool, Monica, showing your students’ the proper way for an unpapered girl to obey a male in a manner that doesn’t end up getting herself live butchered, fillet first?”

Bill watched as the terror and horror filling the breastless black girl’s brown eyes slowly softened to grim resignation, and she nodded, saying in a quivering voice, “Yes, Mr. Jennings, Sir!” Monica immediately walked down the row of death machines to stand atop the nearest stool, facing the milking stalls, before asking, “Can I ask why me, Sir? I mean in view of the help I gave you earlier.”

Bill, who had followed the girl and watched her take her perch, slipped the middle finger of his right hand between the girl’s moist labial lips and into her wet vagina so that he could cup the front of her vulva with the hand’s palm, replied, “Thanks again for your help, Miss Taylor. I chose you because you really do have a nice moist, meaty fillet with thick labial lips and a large clitoral glans. Your pubic mound looks to be plumped just enough to marble the meat, but to not enough to be too fatty, so I think I am really going to enjoy dinner. There is one other reason for choosing your fillet; if you gain anymore weight, you will begin ruining your meat—I’m doing you a favor while teaching your students a valuable lesson by harvesting a sow before she drops below her Grade B rating.”

Bill stood on the stool nearest the back of the dairy so that he could reach the noose dangling over Monica’s head, and flipped a switch on the wall to lower the noose to the appropriate level. Then he slipped the noose over her head and tightened the noose knot as he positioned it to the side of her neck just behind the sobbing teacher’s jaw bone. Bill stepped off his stool and put his hand back on the switch, before asking, “Is there anything else that you would like to ask me, Miss Taylor, or perhaps tell your students?”

Monica nodded and rasped, “This air dance is until death, right, not for a length of time, Mr. Jennings?” Monica watched through tear-filled eyes as Bill Jennings, wearing a frown, nodded, and then called out calmly to her students, “Girls and boys, Mr. Jennings criticisms were fair and what he is about to do is within his rights as a male. Girls, if you ever are in the position of air dancing with no prospect of being let down, forget the survival techniques you are taught in the air dancing class at school, and start right out dancing hard. If you must undergo a full conversion, you might as well have fun donating your meat. I’m ready, Mr. Jennings!”

“Good girl, Monica,” Bill said with a friendly smile on his face. “Up on your tippy toes, please, Miss Taylor.” As the teacher complied, Bill flicked the switch, this time in the opposite direction until the slack in the rope was gone. Bill pulled a length of twine out of his pocket, and began to untangling it so he could tie it to the notch in Monica’s stool leg.

Monica looked down and watched Mr. Jennings preparing to use the twine to initiate her slow murder and convert her to meat. The teacher had other ideas! If possible she was going to take that privilege away from the man who would be having her fillet for dinner. She kicked her toes forward, and found that she had just enough friction on the stool top to push the furniture over and well away from her feet. As the rope creaked above her, and gravity pulled hard on her neck, Monica watched Bill Jennings walk away with a confused look on his face to take a seat on the nearby Jessica’s waist pad.

Monica didn’t try to fight the panic that overwhelmed her mind—she embraced it! She let her feet go as her horror and trepidation made her legs kick wildly in search something solid to take the strain off her neck. Soon her body was twisting and swaying to-and-fro, and then she remembered the stool Mr. Jennings had been standing on as he noosed her. Monica began jamming her leg violently to her right, trying to find the furniture’s surface and salvation, not realizing it was well out of her reach, and that she was tightening the noose around her neck with each jerk.

Monica’s head began to ache from the restricted blood flow to her brain. The teacher knew from her own air dancing techniques and survival strategies training that the headache was normal and would likely soon go away. The girl desperately wished she could run away from the dairy, even if it meant getting fired from her job. Suddenly she found that she was running—on air—as she kicked first one foot forward and then the other in a cruel parody of her wish.

Soon, the noose around Monica’s neck was desperately tight, and the teacher was tiring in her fight against the rope above her. She was now alternating between pulling her knees up toward her chest and then thrusting her feet downward in a jumping motion, and kicking her feet sideways before closing her legs again, as if she were doing jumping jacks. Nothing was working—nothing she did seemed to reduce gravity’s cruel grip on her neck.

For Monica, each minute’s passing seemed to take an eternity as she fought desperately to try to free herself from the rope above her head and around her neck. It was hopeless, and the teacher’s spirit gradually weakened along with her body. Soon, she was barely able to get her feet to move as she weakly kicked, and the swaying and twisting of her body in air began to slow. Monica looked out to the milk cows, both converted and volunteers, and could see them watching her dance with fascination on their faces. She looked out to her students—their expressions were much the same, but at least a few of the girls were crying for her.

Minutes later, Monica could barely move her feet at all, and she knew that her dance was done. The teacher knew that she was dying at the end of the rope, while her students watched her being converted to meat, and a man sat drooling at the sight of the fillet he coveted. Monica suddenly noticed that her vulva felt strange, not knowing that it was because her labial lips and clitoris had become engorged with blood—a normal phenomenon for a girl being hanged.

As she felt her feet stop moving to hang limply below her, the teacher knew her life was at an end and that soon she would be nothing but meat! Monica gasped and gurgled as a powerful orgasm ripped through her loins, and as the glow began to slowly fade she could feel her female juices running down her thighs. She felt embarrassed, and thought it silly that she did so. The world blurred, and she thought no more at all.

Bill Jennings shook his head and stood to walk back to the students after the sow that had been Monica Taylor lost control of her bladder and bowels and messed herself as she became meat. He was going to need the clean-up crew as well as the pit attendants between field-trip classes. At least Cheryl was already busy untying the teachers’ wrists.

“Girls and boys, I’m sure you’ve learned much more today than you will ever realize, or that I could ever summarize here and now,” Mr. Jennings said softly. “I know some of the demonstrations were not much fun to watch, but they all provided valuable information about how the world’s food supply is produced. If there is one thing you need to take away from here today, it is the knowledge that you girls ARE the world’s food supply—well someday part of it, anyhow, but hopefully not soon. Take care of your meat girls—you are what we eat!”

“That concludes our field trip to the dairy, girls and boys,” Samantha Sorensen announced, now the head teacher, being the oldest and longest serving of the remaining seven. “Thank you for the fantastic information and wonderful demonstrations, Mr. Jennings. We look forward to seeing you and your dairy during next semester’s home economics field trip. Okay students, cue up and start taking your seats on the bus. We will have you back to school shortly!” With many of the students waving, and yelling thanks or goodbye, the dairy was soon relatively empty again.

Bill spent some time talking to Cheryl, before she slipped out the second door in the main room, behind the end of her counter, taking her tray full of breast bacon with her. Bill returned to stand before the heroines in their milking stalls, and chortled, “Very nicely done, girls, four liters already. I may not want to let you go home! Should I keep you as my milk cows, forever? Just kidding, Wanda! By the way, the door Cheryl just went through to fetch the pit attendants and cleanup crew leads to the barbecue pits—the pathway you should take to Final Fantasy with your men Friday night. Have you found things interesting so far?”

“Interesting, yes, Bill,” Wanda replied softly. “I can’t, no I think it is fair to say, we can’t hide the fact that we found many of the field trip demonstrations to be entertaining as well. The death games trouble us as always—you’ll have to forgive us for our 21^st Century moral dilemmas.”

“Certainly, Wanda, but I need to point out that neither of those girls died as part of games,” Bill said softly. “What happened during that field-trip class really is dictated by school curriculum. If I want to keep the classes coming here, I have to cover the pre-set elements. However, whatever this makes you think of me, I will admit that heaping mental and physical agony on Miss Sorensen bothered me a whole lot more than terminating Mrs. Ogsdale, a women who was going to die shortly anyhow.”

“Yes, having done a docking myself, Bill, I can understand your reasoning,” Janet said softly, a frown on her face. “But…what about Miss Taylor? Did you really choose her for her fillet?”

“The reasons I stated in public were part of the truth, Janet,” Bill said with a twinkle in his eye. “Those stated reasons included the fact that she had, and now I have, a scrumptious looking fillet. However, if I had really made my choice based on that food cut alone, it would have been Mariko or Helen dangling from the rope. Did my reason for letting Mariko out of the noose sound fair?”

“I thought so,” Zatanna replied quickly. “She had already made her sacrifice for the day. Why not Helen, if you coveted her fillet more than Monica’s?”

“Can I take a shot at answering that for you, Bill?” Sue asked softly. “Without your taking offense to anything I might say?”

“Sure, Sue, go ahead,” Bill said chuckling. “However, I will be surprised if you get it entirely right.”

“You chose Monica, rather than Helen, because you think there is a pretty good chance you’ll be harvesting Helen’s breasts some night soon at Final Fantasy, didn’t you,” Sue said softly. “She said she wasn’t going to let those drink tickets you had Cheryl pass out to the breasted teachers go to waste.”

“Damn, Sue, are you that good at reading people, or am I that transparent?” Bill replied after roaring with laughter. “Besides, Helen’s rotation on the field-trip escort roster will come around again soon enough. If she’s breastless, I’m sure to pick her next time!”

“Oh my heck!” Sue spat with a reddening face. “I was only partly right, wasn’t I, Bill? The other half of the answer was too obvious for me to see the first time. Most of the time, you select the breastless teachers for full conversion…I’m right, aren’t I, Bill! If one of the school faculty positions is going to be freed up for a new girl, it’s usually going to be one of the breastless teacher’s positions! That’s why you didn’t know Miss Hartnell was the home economics teacher—she’s one of the new hires!”

Bill nodded slowly at Sue, before admitting, “Yes, the previous home economics teacher was used to demonstrate non-voluntary full conversion to her class the previous semester, after she had pulled the die with a two on it two semesters earlier and demonstrated partial conversion by donating her C-cups. Now if one of you can put the final piece of the puzzle together, drinks will be free Friday night for your entire table, regardless of whether you choose to, or not to, do a booth stint—that way if Wonder Woman is with you Friday night, and your heroes earn 3,000 credits from me as a reward for their sacrifices that enticed the Princess’s attendance, they will be able to maintain sufficient funds to purchase a fillet while still enjoying drinks.”

“Actually, that’s too easy for Sue to answer,” Janet chortled, “so if she doesn’t mind, I’ll give it a go and try to earn my husband a bonus, as we’ve been told Diana has definitely committed to tag along after watching two men lose the attributes that make them men, temporarily I hope.” Sue smiled and nodded before Janet continued with, “The final piece of the puzzle is Principal Boyers, who determines how many non-voluntary full conversions are to take place, and therefore how many new girls are added to his harem!”

“Drinks are on the house!” Bill announced. Then he roared in laughter again, before exclaiming, “God I love you girls! I truly believe that the Friday before last was the luckiest night of my life! I can see you’re all blushing, so I’ll change the subject by admitting I’m glad the high school field-trip is over, and that the next class to arrive is made up of college kids. At least I don’t have to keep my cock in my pants with them! Actually, I regret making that promise to Sue to not have sex with any of you heroines in the dairy unless you ask me to. I don’t suppose one of you would take pity on this horny dairyman and ask, would you?”

The four heroines burst into laughter before Wanda finally replied, “We all love you a lot, Bill, but knowing your penchant for anal sex and considering our bent over positions, I think we will have to take a pass on your request this time. Besides, I think it will be interesting to see how you manage to maneuver one of the college girls or teachers into fulfilling your carnal needs.”

“Most of the men from this century share my penchant for sodomy, Wanda, which reminds me, I have a few preparations of my own to make while the pit attendants remove the long pigs, the clean-up crew cleans up the floor under the nooses, and Cheryl makes her breast bacon sandwiches,” Bill said grinning as he nodded to each team or person working as he named their tasks. Soon Bill was behind Janet, rolling her sex machine to where it was normally kept against the wall.

Zatanna, after watching first Sue’s and then Wanda’s sex machine get removed without complaints, asked, as Bill began to release her machine’s wheel locks, “Hey, how is Cheryl going to see me get tamed if you take away my Rape-O-Matic 3000 fucking machine? I might want something pummeling my vaginal cavity during the next field-trip class.”

Bill ignored Zatanna’s question, and rolled away her sex machine, before returning to stack rectangular wooden blocks, about two-foot long and one-foot wide and of various thicknesses, at each end of the heroines’ line of milking stalls. “I wouldn’t worry about your pussy, until you run dry, Zatanna,” Bill chortled. “Your mouth on the other hand…well as I mentioned…these are college kids that are visiting the dairy next…and the men in the class, being fully adult males, are going to use you in most anyway they want! That’s going to happen with or without my permission…sorry girls! Look at it this way…you don’t have to worry about getting bored this afternoon!”

Bill roared in laughter at the appalled looks on the heroines’ faces as he retrieved a small bag from one of the counter drawers, and then returned to stand before the heroines. “What, have I finally made the four of you speechless?” Bill asked with a wicked grin on his face.

“What did you mean about Zatanna not worrying about her vulva, until she runs dry, Bill?” Janet asked as she stared at the more than four liters of milk in her storage container. That was easily a record amount of milk production for her. She couldn’t imagine she would be spraying white liquid down her milk hoses much longer.

“As I said, I can’t stop the men from taking advantage of you if they want to, Janet,” Bill said softly with a twinkle in his eyes. “However, I can try to control how they do so. I’m going to tell them they can use the mouths, but only during scheduled breaks and while demonstrations are being set up, of my volunteer milk cows while they are in the stalls. However, they will be told they can put any of you that have run dry belly down on your knees and take you from behind any time they want, seeing as both student and cow would still be able to watch and listen to the demonstrations and lectures.”

Janet swallowed hard as her face grew pale, and in a quivering voice, asked, “If we get put in a position to be taken from behind…won’t that…I mean won’t the men want…?” Janet couldn’t make herself ask the question.

“I can tell you’re worried about that fondness for anal sex we men of this time period have, Janet,” Bill said softly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan to help preserve that anal virginity you are so proud of, Mrs. Van Dyne, but this is the last day I’ll help you in this way. Men can’t interfere with a girl’s punishment when it’s being administered by another man, so I will tell the male students that each of you is being punished by being forced to wear one of these.”

Wanda watched as Bill took a small rose-colored object from the bag and held it before Janet, who looked like she was going to faint, and then Sue, who looked disgusted, and then Wanda, who blushed beet red with embarrassment. Wanda’s blush deepened as Zatanna burst into laughter after reading the label stamp on the base of the bullet-shaped rubber implement which narrowed abruptly before widening back to full width at its posterior end. Wanda had read the label too, and not for the first time—it read:

Stretch Her Good Anal Plug

(Copyright 2008)

Brought to you by

the “Secretly Scarlet”

(Trademark 2021)

fine line of sexual toys.

Manufactured by

Van Dyne Enterprises.

“With one of these in each of your anuses, you’ll be safe from being anally sodomized for the next 2 or 3 hours,” Bill said chuckling loudly. “Don’t worry, Janet, I managed to find one of your company’s Stretch Her Slightly Anal Plugs for you, which curiously isn’t in Wanda’s fine line of sexual toys, so if you can keep it from looking loose you may feel like an anal virgin as well as be one at the end of the day.”

Bill chortled, after watching the consternation build on the heroines’ faces, “These are genuine antiques, girls, and they cost me a fortune! The museum I bought them from claimed that this particular butt plug, the one Wanda is going to wear today, was used on the Scarlet Witch by Captain America himself, after finding out that Wanda had used her hex power to change the outcome of a strip poker game, which you Avengers evidently liked, or should I say like, to play. The museum also claims that the Scarlet Witch didn’t know she had a “Secretly Scarlet” line of sex toys to go with her “Secretly Scarlet” lingerie line until she was wearing the plug! What, girls, have you nothing to say?”

Janet spat angrily, “This really blows, Bill Jennings! And you know it too!” Janet looked apologetically at the red-faced Wanda for the millionth time.

“Yes, Janet it does doesn’t it,” Bill replied matter-of-factly. “I think I just heard the bus pull up.” Bill roared with laughter as he walked around the back of the stalls and forced one of the butt plugs into each heroine, starting with a groaning Wanda, after first dipping it into a lubricating gel, while Cheryl opened the main door of the dairy to let the students enter. Bill Jennings grinned happily as he prepared to enjoy the second half of the afternoon with his heroine friends from the 21^st Century even more than the first half!

To be continued.

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