Aprille

Chapter 3

He held her hand as they strolled back to her dorm.

"So most B girls live their whole productive lives in the birthing building?" he asked, although his mind was really on the movement of her body under her clingy smock. "Delivering babies and nursing babies and taking care of babies?"

"And making babies. Don't forget that," she answered, although her mind was mostly occupied with the waves of tingling anticipation she always felt when sex was imminent.

"I presume they use standard genetic filters to make sure all your babies are female."

"That's right."

"Do they have a special room there for making the babies?" His grin was infectious. And sexy.

"They have rooms all over for that at Musgrave. Anywhere a brooder happens to be, if a certified stud wants to play, we play."

"Do you have to? Do you have a choice?"

"We don't have to. We're not sex slaves. But why wouldn't we? The studs are all great looking, sexy and healthy — like you — or they wouldn't be certified, and we want to get pregnant as often as possible so we don't get downgraded. And we're loaded for bear with O-drugs. Hot guy wants to get laid; horny girl wants to get knocked up. Works out pretty well."

"Are you B girls always horny?"

"When we're not preggers, yeah. The O drugs have quite an effect on female libido. It's a mild version of what we get when we're spitted."

"So you're on them right now?"

"God, yes! You have no idea how hard it is for me not to pull your pants down this second and plug you in!"

Werner's excitement was rising rapidly, and noticeably. Aprille kept glancing down at the evidence. He put his arm around her and drew her close so he could reach his hand around to cup her breast. He could hear her breath shuddering.

"Do they take you off the O when you get pregnant?"

"Unhappily, yes. They don't want the stuff getting into the fetus. I guess they don't want horny babies, at least not while they're still inside. Also, they prefer we put a damper on our sex lives as we get closer to delivery. Each fetus represents a certain investment for the Musgrave Corporation and they don't want us to bang them up, so to speak. But most studs prefer the oversexed svelte girls anyway, so there's not a lot of temptation we have to fight off. Just periods of frustration."

They had reached the doorway to her dorm room. Werner reached out to close it.

"Hey, there's no door here!" he said.

"Just noticed, did you?" she laughed. "We're not allowed to have doors at Musgrave. The guards and management want unlimited access to every girl at all times. That's another reason the cages and boxes are so horrible; we're not used to being closed in. The girls who work off campus, the Pleasure Girls, often find it scary to be shut up in a room. Me, too. I've had dates take me to hotel rooms, shut the door, close the drapes and turn out the lights. I get kind of panicky. It's too much like that box. Spoils the whole date for me."

"Then by all means, lets leave the lights on and revel in openness! By the way, who's this?" He inclined his head toward a girl on one of the lower bunks. She was stretched out on her stomach, naked, reading a book. She paid them no attention.

"That's River. My favorite roomie." When he raised his eyebrows in a silent question, she added brightly, "Why? Would you like her to join in?"

"Well, no. I mean, that's not what I was thinking. I was just wondering . . ."

He paused. Aprille assumed he wanted more info.

"She's seventeen, like me, and not pregnant yet. She's been trying for eleven months, almost twelve. We make a nice contrast, don't you think? She's got long, straight black hair; mine's blond, curly and not as long. She's tall and slim with pretty apple breasts; I'm kinda short and curvy with a big front porch. My eyes are blue and hers are almost black. Wanna add her to the mix?"

Werner wasn't sure she was serious but it added to his excitement. Aprille alone would be more than enough female to ring his bells, but the other girl was a beauty, too, and Aprille seemed genuinely interested in a threesome. He probed a little, just to make sure she really wanted that, although why he was concerned about her feelings when the company that owned her had already given him permission to use her was more than he could understand.

"Which would you prefer? That we fuck as a duet or add River for a trio?"

Aprille burst into delighted laughter! "I believe you're the first man who's ever asked what I would prefer. Frankly, Herr Werner Richter, I don't care whether it's just you and me or whether it's you and me and the whole damn dorm, as long as you fuck me until my head explodes! The question is, would you like an extra cunt and pair of tits to play with while you screw me? I'm sure River would love to join us. Isn't that right, River?"

The girl rolled on her side and looked directly at Werner, who was instantly taken by the astonishing perfection of her nubile figure and the exotic loveliness of her face, half shrouded by a lustrous curtain of raven hair . Like Aprille she was exquisitely beautiful, yet — as Aprille had noted — sharply different in every detail. When she spoke, her voice was dark silk.

"I want to be more than an extra set of girl parts. I want a share of him. Are you willing to share his seed with me, Aprille?."

"Of course. But I want his first load. And I want it soon!"

"No deal," the girl said. "The first load is the biggest and I need it more than you do. You can take him to the edge, if you want, but then we switch. Please, Aprille. You know my situation."

Aprille sighed and slumped a little. "Okay. You're right. I won't be greedy. Your deadline is getting kinda close." She looked up at the randy Austrian. "Can you warn us when you're about to come?"

"Sure."

"Let's do it that way, then." Aprille began to unbuckle Werner's belt.

River turned her book over and laid it open on the pillow, then, moving slowly and erotically, swung elegant legs to the floor. "And what about you, Mr. Herr Werner Richter? Can you handle two of us at once? Will you be able to come twice?"

As she rose to her feet and stretched to her full height, the tawny glow of her skin and the perfection of her figure took his breath away. No wonder she had been classified as a B1! If her offspring were half as gorgeous as she, Musgrave Inc would make a pile of money.

"I'll keep at it until I do," he said, surprised at how his excitement had hoarsened his voice. Aprille was unzipping him and sliding a small hand into the opening to tease the part of him straining against the cloth of his shorts. River slipped behind him, wrapping lithe arms around his chest to unbutton his shirt and peel it away. She pulled him backwards on to the lower bunk opposite the one she had just abandoned, placing her hands on his bare chest and pushing him downward. As Aprille pulled off his shoes and socks and tugged at his pants, River threw a long leg over his groin and straddled him, leaning forward to press her hard little nipples into his chest. She slid up his body, her satin skin grazing the blond hair on his chest, until one of those glorious nipples was poking at his lips. He drew it in and sucked at it gently, then fiercely, drawing the whole firm breast into his mouth. He felt the muscle of his manhood spring free as his pants slipped down his legs. Then something warm and wet enveloped it, tickled the end of it. A soft tongue was licking at it, stealthy lips stroking it gently, up and down.

"O my God!" Tension rippled through his body. "This is too much! I'm coming already!"

In a single smooth motion, River immediately pushed herself down his body, raised her hips and impaled herself on his erection, slippery with pre-cum and Aprille's saliva. His mouth, deprived of River's sweet breast, was quickly covered by hers, their lips and tongues engaging in a wet, passionate dual. He cried out as he humped and spurted inside her, her strong vaginal muscles milking him of his jizm. River kept a tight clamp on his withering member as his spasms subsided, coveting every sperm. When she finally rolled gently off his body and he slipped out of her, she covered the entrance of her sex with her fingers, sealing in his seed while she stole away to the bureau for a vaginal plug.

But it was only the beginning for Werner. River's warm body had barely departed when his cooling skin was wetted with Aprille's kisses. She kissed and licked her way up his relaxing body, nestling into his arms, letting his hand find its way to her substantial bosom, sighing as he kneaded them. She kissed him from ear to ear, from nose to Adam's apple. She brushed his face with her golden hair and squirmed erotically in his embrace. Her loins were ablaze with unfulfilled desire and she forced a knee between his legs to rub her itching pussy against his thigh. Not five minutes had elapsed before his sexual fires rekindled and that shaft she longed to possess within her began its resurrection to new life.

River returned to aid in her roommate's quest for an orgasmic fix and her share of the Austrian's semen. She and Aprille had effectively traded places, the blonde girl laving his face and upper body with licks and kisses, the raven-haired girl now sucking her own juices off his rebounding manhood. Aprille climbed to her hands and knees and crawled over him, brushing her nipples past his lips. He reached up and seized her breasts in both hands, biting gently and sucking hard on each one alternately as River, working the other end, sucked and massaged his cock and ball set. When he was rock hard again and beginning to groan and tremble, River winked a signal to Aprille who adeptly rolled to his side and pulled him on top of her. In an instant he had plunged into her and was hammering furiously. Her eyes rolled up in ecstacy as she hammered back, kicking him with her heels as though to urge a steed to a gallop, clawing at his back as she wailed in the throes of an intense orgasm, then another, and another. When he finally went into the spasms that accompanied a hot burst of spunk into her womb, she clung to him with the strength of a madwoman, mewling in frenzied rapture! He was astonished at her strength, engulfed by her trembling passion, overwhelmed by her beauty! A wonderful dread came over him. He had fallen in love with this woman. It was impossible! He could not allow it! Yet he could not deny it.

She was still holding him tightly ten minutes later as he gently pried himself loose, withdrawing reluctantly from her warm sheath, feeling her vaginal muscles constricting on his softened member, trying to hold it in. Her eyes opened and immediately glazed over with tears. He kissed them dry, licking at the residue.

"What's the matter, Aprille?"

"I don't want it to stop. I don't want you to go away."

"I'm too tired to do it again, just now, little one."

"I don't mean that. I mean . . ." She stopped and exhaled. A sigh filled with sadness. "I'm sorry. It's not my place. Thank you for . . . for being so sweet. It was wonderful!"

He wanted to ask her what she did mean. What wasn't her place? But he knew. He was male and free. She was female and meat. There was no way to change things. He kissed her again. That was allowed. It was physical. The other things — emotions, feelings, love — could only lead to disaster.

He stood up and began to dress.

As River had done before her, Aprille snugged three fingers over the opening of her love sheath until she could reach the bureau and find a restraining plug to block it up lest a single sperm from the millions of freshly injected contenders escape its duty to assault and conquer her latest egg. River, still naked, watched languidly from her bed.

"So Aprille," she said in her crushed velvet voice, "where did you find this one with the cute accent? He's not your run-of-the-mill stud. He's something else! More important, when you're finished with him, can I have him?"

The words were addressed to her roommate, but her eyes aimed them at Werner. He smiled back at her, acknowledging the compliment. But he was thinking about Aprille and the sinuous way her arms and body moved, the way her hair shifted as she turned her head, the way her shapely thighs and calves tapered to delicate ankles and feet — an erotic symphony of feminine grace.

"He's a guest of the company," Aprille told her, but her eyes were thoroughly engaged with the man whose seed was even now beginning its long hopeful journey of conquest and life. "I'm his guide for today. And tomorrow, I hope."

"Certainly tomorrow!" he said. "I'll insist on it."

"You guys look so great together," River said. "Any chance I could tag along? I won't get in your way, I promise. I'll be quiet as a clam, and any time you want to screw all by yourselves, I'll just watch."

Aprille went over and kissed her. "Of course you can come along, sweetie. If it's all right with Wern . . . with Herr Richter."

"Herr Richter would be delighted to have two lovely escorts." Perhaps, he told himself, the added female would enable him to think more objectively about Aprille. Keep his priorities in order. Perhaps if he fucked them both, Aprille wouldn't shine so brightly in his heart. Perhaps. But he knew he was deceiving himself.

"It's noon. Maybe Mr. Richter would like lunch," River suggested. "Find out how tasty we are in the hands of a good chef."

"Then afterward we can tour the training and activity areas," Aprille added. "He's seen where we begin and where we live. We can show him how they keep us good looking and flavorful. Tomorrow we can do production and he'll see how we end up in grocery stores and banquets."

"But that leaves tonight," River said, shrugging into a form fitting black and gold dress that left her shoulders and most of her legs exposed. "Whatever can we do to keep him interested tonight?"

Both girls giggled and each took one of his arms as they led him to the main dining hall.

"There are several places to eat on campus," Aprille explained along the way. "We're going to the largest one so you'll get to see a lot of the girls. But each dorm has its own smaller kitchen and dining room attended by girls who live there. The brooders who live in the birthing house eat almost all their meals there because when we're nursing we have to have very particular diets."

"And once we start nursing," River said, "it's pretty much non-stop."

"If you're always there, how do you get pregnant again?" Werner asked. "What kind of sex life can you have?"

"A lot!" both girls answered in unison.

Aprille picked up from there, her voice sparkling with residual laughter. "The studs are perfectly happy to come there for a quick fuck. They get a discount. If they take a girl off campus, it costs a lot extra. Plus the cost of the motel and dinner or whatever."

"The Brooders make sure they're happy," River said. "It's actually a very nice atmosphere there at the nursery. There are a lot of regulars who come often to see their favorite girls, so the brooders are relaxed and feeling good. They're also back on the O-drugs and horny as hell. The studs get their money's worth."

The trio arrived at the Great Dining Hall. To Werner it looked very much like the food court at a huge shopping mall: a vast area under a glass dome and filled with a multitude of small round tables interspersed with islands of flowers and trees reaching toward the sunlight. Ringing the dining area were a dozen or so window counters offering a variety of luncheon choices, each one including a number code.

Aprille waited for Werner to take it all in, then explained, "As you've probably deduced, we girls have to go to the window that's serving our prescribed lunch. But you can chose anything you like."

"I suppose your I.D. bracelet tells them if you're at the right place," he said.

"You got it. No way we can cheat. Even the P-girls in town have to carry their own meals prepared here. They're allowed no money to buy their own food."

"What about what their customers pay them?"

"They work at company pleasure houses. They never see the money."

"What if the customer sneaks them money under the sheets?"

"All girls are strip searched when we come back, including those parts of our anatomy you're thinking about right now."

He laughed. "Makes sense. Okay. I'll eat what you eat. Take me to your window."

Aprille giggled and led him to a counter serving "spicy Italians" and mixed veggies. When the three of them had found a table and settled in, he discovered his "spicy Italian" consisted of slices of pressed girl-meat pepperoni with Swiss cheese, smoked girl-meat, lettuce, tomato, onions and jalapeño in a honey-nut roll. It was delicious. But for the first time Werner felt uneasy about it.

"Does it bother you to be eating meat that could have been someone you know?" he asked both girls.

"Of course not," Aprille answered.

"Not me," River chimed in. "I know I'm going to be on someone's plate one of these days. I'd rather it be a friend than a stranger."

"Is that how you feel, Aprille?"

"Certainly. There's nothing more intimate than begin eaten. Not even sex. Wouldn't you rather be eaten by a friend than by a total stranger?"

"I confess, I've never given it any thought."

"That's because you're a male, and free. When you're bred and raised to be meat, you think about it a lot. In fact, in some strange way it's a turn-on to think that some day you'll be snuffed and eaten. I've eaten a lot of my friends and acquaintances here. I don't look forward to being dead, but I would be honored to be eaten by River. Or by you."

"Well, maybe I can give you a little early preview of that tonight," he grinned.

"Right now, if you want," she answered, and stroked his leg under the table.

When his hand touched hers, she quickly pulled it over to her delta and pressed it firmly to her sex. His fingers dipped into the smoothly shaved furrow, warm and moist beneath the thin silk of her frock. Her hips rolled gently, her eyes bright with renewed desire. God! Those O-drugs must be powerful! he thought. Then another thought came to him.

"Do any of the girls here wear undergarments?"

"Oo, I think we've shocked him," cooed River.

"No, no!" he said hastily. I like it! I was just wondering. I've seen a lot of naked girls and girls getting dressed and undressed, but no underwear. And those girls at the next table, sitting with their knees apart: obviously there's nothing under their skirts but them."

"Same as me," said Aprille. "Some wear panties, but we don't." She touched her friend. "Do we? River and I like the feeling of air moving across our pussies and our clothes rubbing on our nipples. And we can play with ourselves more easily, and others can play with us."

She snaked Werner's hand under the hem of her frock and directly on to her skin. Now he could definitely feel her wetness. Was it a product of her growing excitement or leakage from his own earlier deposit? Whichever, she was fairly vibrating with sexual desire.

"If I were to lay you on this table and start fucking you right here and now, what would happen?"

She started to rise out of her chair, her eyes hot. "You want to?"

"No, no! Just tell me what would happen. I'm just curious."

She settled back, looking disappointed. "Some would watch, others would pay no attention. The young girls, the ones who haven't had sex yet, would definitely watch!"

"When are the girls here first introduced to sex?"

"As soon as they open their eyes. It goes on all around them. We grow up first in the birthing house where the women often masturbate or play with the studs as they nurse the babies. There are no closed doors there, either, so the kids crawl in and out of the pleasure rooms where the moms are entertaining their men. We see right from the start that sex is fun and normal. When we start asking questions, we not only get straight answers but demonstrations. Except for diapers, no child is forced to wear clothes. In fact, it's a big deal for little girls here when they can around nude without a diaper for the first time. Helps motivate her to potty train. Then, later on, clothes make us feel more grown up."

"And when do you find out that you're meat."

"Same way. The little girls are taken into the same departments you'll be seeing today. Except where the D girls are processed. We see the older girls blissing out as they're snuffed and on the spits. We wave goodbye to them and they smile back. Our nannies tell us things like, 'Some day you'll be able to do that. It feels so good! Look how happy she is!' Gradually we realize that the meat we've been eating right along comes from those happy girls and that they're doubly happy now because they're inside us and have become part of our own bodies."

"And they really do look happy when they're slaughtered?"

"Of course. You'll see. They're on one hell of an O dose. Everything that touches them is a tremendous rush, even the knife. Speaking of which, if you're not going to fuck me on the table, we'd better get going before I really embarrass you! With your hand where it is, I'm about to blow apart!"

He grinned mischievously and wiggled his middle finger into her. She stiffened, eyes wide, mouth open, shocked by his unexpected invasion, waiting for more. His thumb worked its way past the little wet gates that hooded her most private and most sensitive button of flesh. Her eyes closed and her breathing became shuddering heaves as he massaged her vaginal wall with his finger while gently stroking the button with his thumb. Suddenly she grabbed both sides of her chair, threw her head back, arched into his hand and let out a soft wail as ecstatic spasms surged through her body over and over. They didn't stop until Werner finally withdrew his hand. A pool of her juices had collected in his palm. She settled slowly back into her chair as the orgasms subsided to panting. When her eyes fluttered open, she found herself looking into the entranced faces of a group of pre-pubescent girls who had stopped to take in the show, just as she had predicted. She smiled at them and winked. They giggled and moved off.

Werner seemed equally fascinated by the puddle in his hand. When he reached for a napkin, he found his wrist suddenly gripped by long, elegant, ruby-tipped fingers.

"Don't waste it, honey," River breathed into his ear.

She lowered her face to his cupped palm and dipped the end of a long, pink tongue into the viscous nectar pooled there. She smiled up at him as she ran its wetted tip around her lips, then bent down and carefully licked his hand clean.

"Mmmm," she said, smacking her lips. "Part you, part her. Delicious. You taste good together, too."

Whatever Werner had expected when he was given the assignment to check this place out, it was certainly not this. He found himself enthralled by these two beautiful and extraordinary females, so open and comfortable in their sexuality, so blasé about having been born to be eaten. It would be the height of foolishness to be emotionally smitten by creatures destined to be slaughtered by his own company. But smitten he was. He had to break the spell!

He jumped up. "We'd better get going. What are we going to see next?"

Aprille looked like she was melting into the chair, a picture of floppy contentment.

"Come on, sweetie," River said, pulling her gently to her feet. "You can relax later, after he's used that other finger to squirt more of his lovely man juice into you."

"I'm ready for it right now," she said dreamily.

"Sure you are. But he's not. He wants to see more of our home. Go take his hand so he doesn't get lost. I'll take his other hand so he doesn't distract you any more until the tour is over. Come on."

Aprille did as she was told: took Werner's right hand, gazed up into his eyes for a minute, and shook her head to clear it. She brushed the blond curls away from her face and took a deep breath.

"Okay, my magnificent stud. Shall we take in the training, activity and classroom areas?"

"Lead the way," he said.

The course they took brought him to an entirely different area of the Musgrave campus. They passed a pair of soccer fields ringed by two running tracks. A game was underway on both fields and both tracks were filled with jogging girls. All were naked. It reminded Werner of neighborhood pickup games with skins vs. shirts, but in this case the "shirts" consisted only of brightly colored arm and head bands or helmets. Aprille went into her narrator mode.

"The girls on the farthest field are ages seven through nine," Aprille explained. "The closer field are fourteen through sixteen. We're encouraged to play sports to develop healthy bodies and keep in shape. Lean girl-meat is more in demand than the fatty stuff, and if a girl is going to be a roaster she has to be trim and attractive, especially if she wants to be a P-girl. That's the highest objective the M's can shoot for, and it brings a lot of perks."

"Like?"

"Like TV. You may have noticed, the dorms don't have TV, except for the birthing facility. It's a perk you have to earn. Pleasure Girls have TV at work and can go to the TV rooms here when they're not working. Everyone else has to earn it by meeting certain ratios of meat to fat and other things. Sports are a good way to get in shape so you can earn perks. But if you're too lazy to do that, they make you run laps around the field, like those girls are doing. See the ones wearing clothes? They're B-girls assigned to underage girls, to make sure they complete their laps."

"Underage?"

"Sixteen and under. As I told you earlier, their classification — M or B — is set early; but their grade — 1,2 or 3 — can go up or down at any time. If they're too flabby or too skinny, they're graded three or four. Nobody wants that. Nobody wants to be super market meat. They're just snuffed and butchered. That's not much fun."

"So they're out here trying for grades one and two?"

"Exactly! Of course, there are indoor gyms, too, with squash courts and racquetball and floor hockey. All that stuff. But most girls would rather be out in the sunshine getting a nice tan."

"And after you've passed your seventeenth birthday, you don't come out here any more?"

"Oh sure we do! Staying in shape is a never-ending process. And games are fun! My team played just yesterday and is scheduled to play again in three days. Once I get pregnant, of course, I'll be more restricted. We're not allowed to endanger our babies. But it's all the more important that we keep trim and looking good so we don't lose value. It would be awful to be dropped down from roasters to packaged meat when we're activated."

He let that thought drop as they continued walking, passing badminton courts, tennis courts, volleyball courts, basketball courts, fields for softball, baseball, field hockey, la crosse and other games he didn't even recognize — all occupied by mostly naked females in strenuous competition with each other.

"This would make great streaming video or live TV!" he said. "All these naked girls running around playing games! Has anyone ever thought of that?"

"Oh sure," Aprille said. "As I understand it, they tried it for a while, but the viewers began to see us as sport figures instead of meat and it stirred up political trouble. Also, the professional leagues complained about unfair competition because we were nude. They still cybercast some games, but now they stencil numbers on our backs and bellies and refer to us only by the numbers and our meat grade."

"Who does pick your names, by the way? If you're separated from your mothers at birth, who decides on the name?"

"M-dex. It's the computer that keeps track of us for Security. It has several thousand names it rotates through."

"So there are several other Aprilles around."

"Oh yeah, but they're all spelled differently. I looked us all up once. There's an A-p-r-i-l and an A-p-r-y-l and an A-y-p-r-l and . . . you get the picture. Lots of Rivers, too, all different spellings and languages."

"I'll bet. But back to these games, how about live spectators in stands? I should think Musgrave could get a good ticket price for all-nude girls' soccer, or all-nude girls' rugby."

"I remember them doing that when I was little. Remember that, River?"

"Yeah, but they only did it for one season."

"Why?" asked Werner.

"Too much trouble controlling the fans. All those sweating young pussies and titties brought out the usual guy reactions. Some were content to beat off in the stands, but others would rush the field and try to maul the girls. I guess they figured we're raised to give pleasure and if we didn't want sex, we wouldn't be running around naked in front of them."

"Anyway," Aprille put in, "they do sell tickets to some of the indoor games where the crowd is smaller, but they don't allow drinking and there's always a bunch of guards with tasers to cool off the hyped-up jerks. If they want to fuck us, they have to do it like everyone else: pay for a P-girl or get certified as a stud."

"Actually," said River, "the P-girls do a lot of business on game nights. They circulate through the stands in these cute gossamer outfits and schedule sessions."

"Do they get paid for those sessions?"

"We're never allowed to handle money. The Company collects the fees and gives us credit chits and perks, same as in the Pleasure Houses."

They came across a brick building nearly buried in a thick coating of ivy.

"This is the Surgical Theater," Aprille said. Would you like to see how the implants and sterilizations are done?"

"Sure," he answered, not willing to betray his squeamish side.

Aprille touched her silver bracelet to a black box and the door swung open, admitting them to the building. She led the way into a waiting room where she explained their presence to a cold-eyed guard at the reception desk. He ran Werner's visitor's ID through his scanner, then laid his hand on a monitor screen and another door slid open. Aprille led her entourage into a narrow passageway, one side of which was a long window overlooking a series of operating theaters.

In the first, naked girls of about five or six years of age were climbing up on standard operating tables and lying down. A mask trailing a plastic tube leading to a jack in the wall was placed over their faces for a minute or so. Then each girl was trundled into the next theater. At that point she was limp, eyes open but unfocused. Men and women in green surgical smocks began working over her.

"See that long needle-like thing the doctor is pushing into that girl's abdomen?" Aprille said. "That implants the GPS Locator. The woman working on her right hand is implanting an ID chip. That's what they use these days instead of these bracelets. I'm scheduled to have one implanted to replace the bracelet as soon as I'm pregnant. Guess they don't want to waste it on me if I don't work out."

Werner noticed that River also had a bracelet. At eleven months without getting pregnant she was much closer to her deadline than Aprille, and an even worse risk for an expensive hardware update.

They moved to the next theater. The girls were also naked, but several years older, perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Their breasts were still developing.

"These girls have been classified as M," Aprille explained. "They're being sterilized. It's a simple laser procedure. The ovaries keep functioning and responding to the O-drugs, but they no longer have any periods, so if they make P status they're never out of service."

"Do M class girls who don't make Pleasure Girl status have any sex life?"

"Sure. Musgrave has contracts with lots of schools, public and private, to provide female partners for their sex education classes. We go to schools all over to give the boys training sessions, teach them how to do it right while the girls watch. It's lots of fun! For the gay girls, of course, there's plenty of opportunity for sex right here on campus."

"You did that? Went around to schools having sex?"

"Well, yeah!" She gave him a puzzled look. "Did you think I was a virgin?"

"No! I was just wondering how they protect you from STD's if you screw boys at random for sex education."

"Well it's hardly random!" she said, bristling. "The boys that screw us have to be screened by the Company's test department in advance!"

"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I was just asking. That's what I'm here for."

She glared at him for a few seconds, then melted. "Of course you are. And it's not my place to question your . . . your questions," she said, flustered by her inexplicable concern about what he thought about her. "It was an excellent question. But the Company is always careful not to jeopardize perfectly good meat and a potential Breeder by letting just anyone fuck us."

"Of course. That's good policy," he agreed.

River broke the awkwardness of their detent. "This is boring. Can we move on?"

Aprille laughed merrily, magically restoring the warmth to their collaboration. "Sure! That sounds like a great idea. That okay with you, Wern . . . I'm sorry! Herr Richter?"

"Didn't I tell you to call me Werner?"

"But in front of River?"

"Have you already forgotten your orders? Would you like to demonstrate the electro torture device for me?"

Aprille turned pale and swayed.

"No, no!" Werner said, grabbing her arm. "I was just kidding. I won't do that. But really, Aprille, I much prefer to hear you call me Werner. Even in front of River. Okay?"

Aprille smiled and nodded. But a little weakly, he thought, so he didn't let go.

"And moving on sounds like a good idea. You okay now?"

He pulled her toward him and gave her a lingering kiss. When he drew back and examined her again, she had regained her color. In fact, the fire of lust was creeping back into her eyes.

"Okay, Werner," she said, testing him through her fear. "I'm ready to move on if you are, Werner. Shall we go, Werner?"

He laughed, kissed her again and tucked her arm under his. "Lead on, beauteous Aprille! Lead on!"

He let her pull him forward. They wandered past three more operating rooms where sterilizations where being performed. At the end of the passageway they turned right, went past a large open coed restroom, then right again into a passageway running down the other side of the building.

"There are four operating theaters on this side," Aprille said, "and three of them all do the same thing. They install tubes for live spitting. The girls you'll see here are all sixteen years old and they're all B1's and M1's."

A beautiful girl with long sandy hair lay quietly on an operating table. She was naked except for small green pads on her eyes and two large blue pads on either side of her left breast. The blue pads were wired to a control panel and a screen alive with the undulating waves of a heart monitor. A breathing mask was clamped to her nose and mouth with a double air hose connecting it to a machine with a video display showing a horizontal bar expanding and contracting. A man in a surgical smock was working over her abdomen with the assistance of a young woman in a white nurse's outfit. A large TV screen loomed in front of him with a constantly shifting image in the gory colors of the human interior. He referred to it constantly. The opposite wall of the theater was also glass and Werner could see a dozen or more lovely young women , all naked, sitting in chairs watching a game show on a TV screen. A few girls were standing at the window on that side engrossed in the choreography of the operation.

Werner glanced over at Aprille who was enthusiastically resuming her narration. She was so cute in her exuberance that he wanted to kiss her, but he restrained himself. Beside him, River smiled. She knew, as women do, what was going through his mind. And she knew what was going through Aprille's, as well.

"What the surgeon is doing," Aprille said, "is feeding the tube through a tiny hole beside her navel up through the loops of the intestine, past the stomach, between the lungs and right up to the trachea. The tube is impregnated with a material that seals the tissues and membranes it punches through. The tip is also a camera lens which provides the picture on that screen to help the doc aim it properly. His aide handles the part of the tube that hasn't yet been inserted. When he's finished the upper end, he'll insert the lower part down through her guts to just above the womb, or through the back of the uterus in the case of the M's. After that, for the M's, they go in through the vagina and attach a docking collar on the end of the tube. It's like a funnel that guides the spit into the tube. For us B's, there's a ring at the end of the tube that makes it easier for the technicians to guide the point of the spit through the wall of the uterus and into the tube. Either way, when we get spitted, the spit screws its way up the length of the tube, expanding it as it goes. It eventually drills into the trachea and comes out our mouth. They do a tracheotomy on us at that point so we can breathe, but nothing inside gets damaged, so there's no internal bleeding. The tube can stay in us for years. Or we can be transported to the roasting site fully spitted at any time and last for days."

"There are no problems at all after this procedure?"

"Well, we're sore for a few weeks, but that goes away. We can feel it in there when we move around, but we get used to it."

"There's a tube inside you right now?"

"Of course. In both of us."

"What do they use for anaesthesia while they install it?"

"Nothing."

"They don't use anaesthesia?"

"Nope. And yes, it hurts like hell! It's the most incredibly painful thing I've ever experienced. But I didn't mind. They gave me a massive O-drug dose and I had ten or twelve huge orgasms while they operated. It's weird. When you're on the O stuff, pain intensifies the orgasms. I wanted to thrash and scream from the pleasure and the pain, but nothing happened because they also give you Curare-X, which paralyzes you. I was super-sensitive ten times over to everything that touched me, but I couldn't make my body do anything."

River spoke up. "I, on the other hand, endured it without benefit of O-drugs."

"Why?" Werner asked.

"I'd been naughty and had a D hanging over me. I got it wiped out by foregoing the O-drugs during the operation."

"Is all this why those girls in the waiting area look so nervous?"

"It's why," said River.

"No it's not," protested Aprille. For the D girls, yes. Definitely! The others just don't know what to expect. But they'll leave wishing they could do it again."

"The girl on the table seems totally relaxed. She's not unconscious?"

Aprille resumed her lecture mode. "Anything but! She's been injected with Curare-X. It paralyzes all your muscles, except the heart. See how she's hooked up to the breathing machine? Without that, she'd asphyxiate. The drug lasts six to eight minutes. The operation takes four to five minutes. She can't so much as twitch in the meantime. She can't even close her eyes or blink, which is why they put a wet pad over her eyes. It's actually a lot less complex and dangerous than ordinary anaesthesia and lets the surgical team put more girls through in the course of a day. They process nine girls an hour in each of the three theaters for six hours a day. Each surgeon does three girls, takes a five minute break, then does three more."

"How many days a week."

"Depends on the demand for roasters, but usually three."

"And there are three theaters going at the same time?"

"Yup."

"That's nine times three, 27; times six hours is 162; times three days is 486; times four weeks. . . that's almost two thousand girls a month! At what Musgrave charges for live roasters, that's well over a billion dollars!"

"And that's just the live roasters. So you see, we may be just meat, but we're valuable meat."

They watched the operating team slip the last of the tube into the girl's lower abdomen. She was evidently a class M because the assistant picked up a small funnel-shaped device and pushed it into the patient's vagina until her whole hand had disappeared inside.

"Would you like to move on?" Aprille asked.

"I believe I would," he answered.

They passed two more operating theaters with identical procedures in progress. At the end of the passageway the window overlooked another operating theater that was not in use. It seemed to be more elaborately equipped.

"What's this one for?" Werner asked.

"Emergencies and stuff," Aprille said. "Appendectomies, broken bones, that kind of thing." She checked a wall clock. "Would you like to see the shipping department next? If we hurry, we'll be in time to see them spit some of the girls and prepare them for shipping."

"All right," he acquiesced, not at all sure he really wanted to see it.

"Okay!" she said cheerily. She hooked her left arm through his right, and River, eager to become an accepted member of his entourage, hooked on to his left.

They walked for some distance across the campus to another grimly plain building adjoining a garage filled with refrigerator trucks.

"Here we are," Aprille announced. "This is where they spit us for transport."

"To what distance?" Werner asked as they entered the building on Aprille's I.D. pass. "How far will they ship?"

"For live-spitted girls it's anywhere within twenty-four hour travel time from here. If it's farther than that, they send us in a company van to be spitted on site. Or fly us, if it's more than three days road time. Live girls on a spit are susceptible to illness if they're kept on it too long. No one wants to eat sick girl meat."

"And for the twos? The girls they snuff before spitting?"

"They're cleaned and shipped in refrigerated trucks. They last longer, but for freshness and quality assurance the company won't slaughter them more than five days before roasting."

They went into a room sealed off from a spotless white chamber by a glass wall, much like the operating theaters. In the chamber on the other side of the glass partition several naked girls were lined up waiting their turn to be processed while two others, already spitted, were being carried on their skewer through an opened set of large insulated doors into a narrow rectangular room with racks along the two long sides. Studying it more carefully Werner realized he was looking into the belly of a truck backed up to one wall of the preparation chamber. More precisely, it was docked to a collar that sealed both the interior of the truck and the chamber from the outside world, apparently to preserve sterility.

"I'm afraid we'll have to watch from behind this window," Aprille said. "The spitting area and truck are antiseptic so we girls don't develop any infections that look gross when we're roasted. Puss isn't very appetizing, you know?" Both she and River giggled.

Werner smiled politely, amazed at their nonchalance, considering this was where they both would eventually wind up. He saw that two girls had been led to a pair of hooks at the end of chains that ran up to pulleys in the ceiling beams. Technicians had clamped their ankles together with a set of padded cuffs. Their wrists were cuffed behind them. Two pairs of burly male technicians in white uniforms drenched in blood, one of each side of both girls, lifted them up simultaneously and inverted them while a naked young woman inserted the hooks under the chain between the ankle cuffs. At the sound of unseen machinery winching the chains upward, the hooks began to rise. A few seconds later both girls were suspended upside down. The naked attendant began taping a sheet of stiff plastic to the first girl's neck so it formed a cone clearly intended to deflect blood from her face and hair. One of the men slid a round tub under the girl's shielded head and with a few deft strokes of a scalpel slashed her throat. Blood surged down the cone and into the tub. The girl never flinched. The man moved to the other girl, pushed a tub under her cone-shielded head and slit her throat, too. Werner studied the girls still waiting their turn in line. There was no sign of terror on their faces, rather a kind of dreamy look, as though they were watching a romantic movie.

"None of these girls seems bothered by the fact that they're about to be slaughtered," he said to his escorts.

"I told you," Aprille said in an I-told-you-so tone. "They're jazzed up on O. See the two girls twitch as they bleed out? They're having orgasms right now while they're dying. I'll bet most of the girls in line are having them, too, just thinking about it."

When the bleeding stopped, the cones and handcuffs were removed and the two dead girls were taken down and laid out on the tables, their heads hanging off one end, mouths gaping open. The ankle cuffs were removed and their legs spread wide. The man with the scalpel made a long, deep incision from breast bone to pubic bone on each body. The technicians again worked in pairs, one spreading the skin apart and holding it open to expose the interior of the carcass, the other scooping out the organs, cutting them free and depositing them in various receptacles.

"All the organs are put to good use," Aprille assured him. "Hospitals buy some for transplants. The rest are sold to zoos and dog food processors."

Werner glanced at her but saw no indication that the idea of being dog meat disturbed her. She was simply stating a fact she took for granted.

With both carcasses cleaned, one of each pair of technicians stationed himself between his subject's legs and began feeding a long spit between the exposed labia. Werner saw the point appear in the empty cavity of each girl where a second technician guided it through the upper body and on into the neck until it emerged bloody from the opened mouth. The incisions were then taped shut and the legs stretched out along the spit. The ankles were wired to the spit and the knees to a transverse bar so the body would turn with the spit. The two spits were then transferred to trestle racks where the girls were flipped face down so their wrists could be wired behind them and to their hips to keep them from flopping around as the spit turned during roasting. The processing finished, they were carried into the truck where the spits were locked into racks on each side. By Werner's count there was room for forty roasters: four spits racked end to end on each side and shelved five deep.

Aprille chimed in with more information. "Today they're doing M2's. We can come back tomorrow morning and watch them do M1's. The live spitting. It's quite different."

"And even more enjoyable for the girls?" he asked.

But Aprille missed the sarcasm. "You bet! You'll see. We'll also get to go to a live roast where some of the same girls will be eaten. River and I have been given permission to escort you there so we can all enjoy the banquet together. You'll probably want to be there when the roasters are delivered so you can see how that's handled and how they prepare the live girls on site. Roasting time, of course, takes several hours, so we can go other places, too. Do other . . . stuff." She smiled coquettishly. "Anything else you'd like to see in the meantime?"

Werner couldn't think of a thing to say.

But River could.

"I think Herr Werner would like to see one of the pleasure rooms."

Aprille giggled, but recovered herself to ask in a dignified manner, "Would you, Sir?"

Werner put his hands on both sides of her face and drew her mouth to his. As his tongue played with hers, he let his hands slide down the curves of her body, his thumbs brushing past her hardening nipples, his palms feeling the soft shape of her hips, his fingers fanning out around the firm little cheeks below, pulling her against the stiffening answer to her question.