Think Meat by counterparts199
This is fantasy. Duh!
It is 2037, twenty years after the Slav-Islamic nuclear exchange. The world has
changed, but is recovering, nearly fully warmed, and almost to a state of
pre-war technology, yet some things cannot be reversed. For example, some
cities will never be revisited, and it is still impossible to stand out in the
weather for more than three hours a day. Of course, the population has suffered
horribly, and now stands at a little over three hundred million, most of those
in, or all places, the North American Continent. To be honest, when I say
world, that's mostly what I'm talking about.
If you think the death of eight billion people is harsh, imagine what the war
meant to those species unable to benefit from defensive systems, shelters and
medically treatment. Few animals other than humans survive. Rats, of course,
thrive, but there is an occasional old man or woman who'd go on endlessly about
steaks and chicken.
_________________________________________________
Joanna took the plate number on the classic Mercedes as she walked pass the
parlor parking lot. Two hours later she was looking at the printout from the
Bureau of Motor Vehicles, a sense of optimism growing within her. Could this be
the perfect guy or what, she asked herself?
Joe sat at a booth, admiring the band, and the chicks of course, but not feeling
particularly optimistic; at thirty-three, and still not married, pessimism had
become a habit. He was a bit shy, and in spite of his business sense and at
least average looks, not much good at picking up women. Sometimes he sit for
hours watching men plying their wares with amazing success, wondering why women
bought those lines from men he had no doubt they'd be trying to change into the
exact opposite personality three days into marriage?
Reflecting back to his business, his computer skills had allowed him to build a
computer networking system by the age of twenty-four. He'd sold it a year ago,
and had millions to live on until he came up with something else that interested
him. Right now, a woman would do, he told himself, not counting on it.
He was about to leave for a late movie when Joanna and Tina walked into the
door. The short blond looked right at him, and led her friend to a table
adjacent to Joe's. There they ignored him until the band stopped a song and the
short blond smiled over.
"Nice band. Have you seen them before?" She asked him.
"Yes. They do a lot of technical stuff," said Joe, always on good behavior.
"Oh, I like it when they do that," added Tina. "Hi. I'm Tina. This is Joanna.
Do you want to join us?"
Joe, the perpetual wallflower, ran to the web, sitting down between the ladies.
Thirty minutes later Tina left. Thirty minutes after that Joanna told him that
she needed a ride home. She took his arm as they left the bar, and then, on the
way home in Joe's Mercedes, she cuddled at his chest where, to Joe, she felt so
warm and friendly.
Something about Joanna had that girl next door charm, wrapped in a girl on stage
body. She wasn't too forward, but obviously interested, suggesting a date as he
dropped her off. She stood at arm's length at the door, and then quickly leaned
in to kiss him on the lips. Joe couldn't keep his mind off of her, and by the
third date, was making love to her on her living room couch. From there they
did all of the usual dating things, amusement parks, social groups, movies and
dinners. When Spring bloomed, they worked his gardens together, much to the
chagrin of Joe's gardener. To Joe, Joanna was perfect, though he doubted his
mother would have approved of any woman from such humble origins.
Then, of course, there was the little problem Joe had with submission. He'd had
a habit of going to S&M parlors every month or two to be worked over by a lady
named Dominque. At first he thought he could do without it, but then he started
leaving signs, seeing if Joanna had any instincts in that direction. He
couldn't bear losing her, but something deep inside had to push the envelope.
Joanna picked up the X rated stories magazine, and flipped to the page that
opened up easiest. Everywhere the back was creased on the book, another female
domination story appeared. "Do you like reading these things?" She asked her
steady.
"Yes. Does it bother you?" He asked.
"Oh no. You know, I was kind of enjoying this one," she said, sitting beside
him and silently reading a story about a man who lived with a dominant
girlfriend.
"Well, to be honest, me too."
"Oh, really?" She chuckled. "Maybe I should read some more," she said,
finishing the story, and then going on to the next creased page.
"I'm embarrassed," confided Joe, sitting beside her; every muscle in his body
was stiff with sexual tension.
"Oh, come on. It could be fun," said Joanna, pretending to initiate the theme.
"OK. What should I do?" He said, a bit too eagerly.
"Well, you should get on your knees, and beg to kiss my feet like this guy did,"
said Joanna.
That was the first of many scenes Joanna and Joe did together. They were
careful to mix their kinky sexual scenes with some old fashioned sex, and in
time found that they were perfect for one another. Joe had the perfect mix of
down home girl and over the top Dominatrix.
"Joanna, I've been meaning to ask you something," said Joe as they cuddled.
They'd just gone on for two hours, most of that with Joe on the floor in
handcuffs, first painting her nails and ending up pleasing her with his tongue.
She'd finished him off by having him masturbate on her breasts. She'd poked at
the cum with a finger, which she then sucked, her lips smacking lustfully. Joe
rubbed his cum into her breasts, and then kissed a nipple.
"What is that, my love?"
"I love you. I couldn't imagine living without you," he confessed.
"Oh, me either. I've loved you since the second date," said Joanna.
"I want to marry you." Half way through the sentence, Joanna grabbed him, and
cried as she hugged.
_________________________________________________
"Well, I can see that you've both had your physicals, and all the necessary
legal papers. Are you sure that this is what you want?" Asked the man at Gate's
Tattoo.
"Yes. We've decided that it is the best way we can show our undying devotion to
one another," said Joanna.
"This way Joanna can feel assured that I'll be a boy toy only to her," laughed
Joe.
"And, he'll know I didn't just marry him for his money," added Joanna.
Joe smiled and nodded, his arm around his fiancee. He planted a kiss on her
head.
"It's your life. Huh! To be honest, I kinda wish me and my first wife had done
it, cause if we had, I'd not be paying all that alimony."
"Not a very romantic thought, now is it," said Joe, wishing they'd gone to a
better meat tattoist.
"Sorry. Just a warning. It's my job to give full disclosure." The man ran the
documents into his scanner, and returned them to the couple. "Who's first?"
Joanna took off her panties, and laid face first on the cushioned table. The
man hiked up her skirt, exposing her beautiful ass. Joe didn't much like the
man do that to his fiancee, but he knew the man had seen worse, and the old guy
was a certification professional. Joanna kind of squirmed when the man stuck
the water soluble tattoo template about three inches up from the bottom crease
of her left butt cheek. When it dried, he put on some thin rubber gloves, and
started on the deep blue 'USDA Inspected Meat' tattoo. An hour later, Joanna
was permanently certified.
"Your next, young man," said the tattoist, soon applying the same seal to Joe's
ass.
That night they made wild, passionate love. Every time she touched his sore
cheek, his cock got hard as a rock.
"Do you like knowing that I hold your certificate?"
"Oh yes. As much as knowing I hold yours. You'll have to promise me that when
we have our first lover's quarrel, you won't go off half cocked and sell me to
the organ and meat people," said Joe.
"Well that's the point. We each hold one another's certificate. It's the
ultimate gesture of our undying love for one another. Much better than
something superficial like a prenuptial. This way we can both make our wills
out to one another and become true soul mates. Oh, and I do love you so much,
Joe," cried Joanna, clinging to her man.
As the wedding got closer, Joanna asked, "Have you thought about the piercing?"
"Well, no, actually. I mean, it can get in the way," said Joe.
"Not really. I mean, you can put on a condom to hold it down. Or, you can take
it off. They have those little key chain ones, you know, the ones that you can
unthread like the skin is a key, and it slips off if you work it a little. You
know, I'd love to see you wearing one. It would be so kinky for when you're
being my little pet," confided Joanna.
"Oh, I don't know. Would you wear one too?"
"Sure I would. I'd love to. I had a girlfriend who had one. Of course, it was
just a piece of jewelry, not the official thing we'd have. She'd be so
envious," said Joanna.
"Yeah, I bet," said Joe. He saw her disappointment, and then yielded, "If you
want to, then it's fine with me."
That night they went back to the man at Gate's Tattoo.
"We want the company tag," said Joanna.
"What do you mean? You want to be meat?" The man asked.
"No, silly. We just want the tag. You do sell them, don't you?" Asked Joanna.
"Well, not usually. I mean, it's a company tag, you know, for the people being
processed. Most people who want piercing have something a little more
decorative in mind. Besides, the tag can get in the way, and it's kind of big,"
explained the man.
"What about a key chain link; you know, the kind the you slide keys through the
split, so we can take it off?" Asked a persistent Joanna.
"Well, I suppose. I'd have to go to the hardware store to pick up something
like that, cause all of my big links are permanent. You mind waiting?"
"No problem," said Joanna. Joe sat down beside his fiancee, and waited sweating
out the idea of being pierced.
Twenty minutes later the man came back, and started on Joanna. He had to work
her vaginal lip slowly, and with considerable numbing, before he could fit the
inch and a half diameter link. Dangling from the link of chain was a three inch
long rectangular chunk of metal that read, 'Reynold's Meat Co.'. Next came Joe,
who cringed when the man started fondling his cock. When Joe was sufficiently
numb, the man worked, finally setting the same link and tag into a double hole
in his foreskin, effectively closing off the skin over the head of the penis.
Joe realized it was going to be difficult peeing, but his submissive streak
kicked in, and he started imagining what it might be like keeping it on while on
his knees in front of his surprisingly imaginative wife to be.
The wedding was a huge affair. Tina was Joanna's maid of honor, and Joe's Uncle
Henry was the best man. The four estate servants surprised the master with a
carpet of flowers to their bed. Everything was perfect. Just for fun, Joanna
had Joe make love to her with his ring and tag still on, a condom in place to
hold it down and allow it in. It surprised Joe how erotic the thing felt as he
grew and the skin stretched. When he came the cum spurted through the tight
opening left at the top of his foreskin with near lethal power.
Three months of wonderful married life ensued. Independently wealthy, Joe spent
most of those days in bed, cherishing his wife.
Joe came home from the store, finding Joanna waited for him at the front door.
"Is something the matter?" He asked, seeing her stern look up on the porch of
their mansion.
"I've asked Mrs. Winston if she could use a butler while hers is on vacation for
a few weeks, and she's taken Jeeves," she said.
"Jeeves? But why?"
"Because I wanted to have privacy in the house, and other than the cleaning
lady, Jeeves is in the way. Oh, and forget about the cleaning lady too; I've
given her two weeks with pay, so we can be alone. Besides, you've been wanting
to be my slave, so I thought it would be fun to make you do most of the things
they did, while I'm in some black leather ... some heels ... maybe a little
riding whip? What do you think, Joe?"
"Oh my," Joe said, his cock making a big old bump in his pants.
"Well then, get in here, and let's get started, boy toy" said Joanna, her
playful smile growing.
Joe ran to the door, and stripped two feet in the doorway, tossing his clothing
in every direction. Joanna smiled at his eagerness, offering her hand for him
to kiss as he knelt at her feet.
"Well, I was going to ask you to strip, but I can see you've already acquired
the instincts to be my puppy. Oh, no, no, put that head down, my slave," teased
Joanna, pushing his head into a deep bow with her hand. Joe looked down at his
cock as it rose, stretching the skin on his penis where it was shut by the
industrial link and tag.
"Yes, Mistress Joanna," Joe said, when the silence felt stifling.
"I think it's time for some new rules around here; don't you, slave?"
"Oh yes, Mistress," begged Joe.
"OK then, for starters, I want you to forget about your orgasms. For the next
three days you're going to be at my feet or at my service. There's an apron in
the kitchen. Go put it on, and start with some dinner. Oh, and Joe, dinner
will be for one. If you're good, I might leave you some leftovers in the doggie
dish."
"Yes, Mistress," said Joe, getting up to get the dinner started.
"Tut, tut. Did I tell you that you could get up?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mistress," said Joe, remembering elements of previous scenes
they'd played together.
"That will be one infraction. Your bottom is going to be very red at the end of
the three days if you don't pay attention to these kinds of things, slave!"
Said Joe's wife Mistress.
"I'm sorry, Mistress. May I get up and start serving you?"
"That's better. Go ahead then. I'll be in here watching some television. Try
to be quite. Oh, and Joe, remember, the cock belongs to me, so leave it alone.
It has to wait until I'm done with it late Monday."
"Yes, Mistress," said Joe, getting up and going to his chores. He served a
lovely synthetic soy steak dinner while standing at attention in the corner.
Joanna looked over periodically, and chuckled at his hard penis poking a tent
into the cloth of the apron.
By the second day she had him in a skirt and bra, doing the cleaning. She gave
him a choice between eating her pussy and having a cum, and like a good slut,
her husband chose eating at the Mistress's diner. She patted his head
encouragingly as he licked her to her fifth orgasm since the weekend began.
"I don't imagine you're man enough to sleep with me tonight, now are you?" She
tormented as she held his head between her legs. When she was done with him,
she shoved him to the floor with her foot, and slept like a baby in the huge
master bed.
On the third day Joe spent most of his time in the corner, being treated like a
bad boy. Joanna had the morning to herself, calling friends, eating toast,
drinking juice, and reading the paper. Then, as the day got late, Joe was once
again naked and kneeling between her thighs.
Every so often, Joe would lick near her tag, sending shutters through her body
as she reflected upon the implications of being fully tested, licensed, marked
and finally tagged as meat. Of course Joe would never imagine selling her
organs and meat to the factory, but it was the threat that made her cringe.
After all, there was always the vague threat. As far as the law was concerned,
all he really had to do was make delivery; which was often more difficult than
some people considered. But, she sighed, he was so in love, and so reliant upon
her, Joanna fell back on her pillow, comforted by the knowledge that the thought
of her ever becoming meat was plain fiction.
"Honey?" She asked.
"Yes Mistress," he said, looking up.
"I was wondering if you'd think it OK if I bought some ribs next week? I mean,
just because I'm curious. I've never actually tasted any, you know, big meat
before," asked Joanna.
"It's very expensive," said Joe, thinking about the odd sensation of actually
eating what used to be a person, not to mention the moral implications.
"Well, I know, but I was thinking just one or two. It's not THAT expensive,"
said Joanna.
"Fine. If that's what you want, my Princess," said Joe.
"That's Mistress to you, slave," reminded Joanna.
"Oh, sorry. Yes, Mistress," replied Joe, kissing Joanna's tag.
"You know; that's ten demerits since we started. I'm afraid I'm going to have
to take you to the utility room and tie you up so I can whip you now. Otherwise
you're going to have to go another night without a cum," she tormented.
"Oh really, Mistress," said Joe, smiling up at her. He'd not been whipped since
his last trip to the domination parlor, a few days before he'd met the love of
his life. The thought of his wife doing that for him sent waves of pleasure
coursing through his nerves.
"Go down and wait for me. Get the handcuffs and rope. I'll bring the whip when
I'm dressed!" Commanded Joanna, with a playful smile.
Joe ran to his study, and got the handcuffs, then he ran to the utility room
where they kept the rope in the drawer of the folding table. There he waited on
his knees for his lovely and creative wife. It seemed she had an interest in
just about everything that he'd wasted money on in the parlor. After spending
so much of his time alone, now he had perfection. His cock was rock hard,
stretching the skin as far as it would go where it was clamped over the head of
his cock. He was definitely going to go to the trouble of unthreading his skin
through the keychain-like link tonight. In fact, he was so worked up that he
really didn't want any more S&M, preferring instead to just have a good romp
with his wife. On the other hand, he did that enough, and didn't want to upset
her plans for fear that he might upset her wonderful scene and make her feel
unsuccessful.
"Oh, there you are," she said, appearing at the door. She had on a leather
skirt, and black seamed stockings. Her bra was missing, but her body was
covered by a white shirt that was unbuttoned obscenely. Joanna wore three inch
spikes on her heels, and in her hand was a wicked cat or nine tails.
"Put your hands behind your back, slave!"
"Yes, Mistress," said Joe, swallowing with a tad of fear.
She cuffed his hands, and then tied the cuff chain off with some rope. Tossing
the rope through a couple of pipes near the ceiling, she pulled his hands up
until he was bent over, his hands a foot higher than he dared raise his head.
The odd end of the rope was tied to a pipe by the wall.
"Now for the feet. I don't want you squirming around on me when I'm beating
you," she said, flicking the whip through the air threateningly. Joe could see
her breasts swinging heavily as she knelt at her crotch, tying his legs together
with several loops of rope.
"Gee, I can hardly stand up. It's like I only have one leg, Mistress," Joe
protested mildly.
"Good. Now, a little more rope on those wrists. I never trust handcuffs." She
tied his hands with a few feet of rope, and stood back, admiring her handiwork.
"Don't fall down. This is going to really hurt," she declared, stepping to the
side.
Joe squinted his eyes when he saw the first swing coming. It smacked loudly in
the small room, sending a shock wave of horrible pain through his body.
"AH!" Joe screamed. "Oh god, please Mistress. Not so hard," he begged.
"I can see I'm going to have to gag you, slave," said his lovely wife, taking
off her panties. She stuffed them into his mouth, and tied them in with some
rope. When he was secure she started beating him again. Joe started screaming
into his gag, soon beyond bearing the pain as great black welts raised, beads of
blood showing in a few of the worst marks. When Joanna got to ten, he thought
she'd quit, but she kept on until he could barely hold himself on his feet. One
swing before he would have collapsed, she quit.
"So, did my poor slave like that?" She tormented, walking around in front of
him. Her hands were on her hips, as she gloated over his tear streaked face.
Joe's head rocked back and forth, the pain still searing into his flesh from the
memory of the mean blows.
"Well, I suppose I could have been nicer, but I wanted you to be a little
weakened, my little piggy," teased Joanna. She went behind him again, Joe
trying his best to tiptoe around so she couldn't strike him again. Joanna could
move him with one hand though, and kept him facing away. She had another piece
of rope, and took it to tie around the cuff chain. She then looped it through
the rope at his feet, and pulled until Joe's feet lifted from the floor, meeting
the hands in the air. Joe screamed as the cuffs bit red marks into the skin and
bones of his wrists. When she was done hog-tying it off, she brought out a
utility knife and cut the rope where she'd tied it at the wall. Joe feel from
the ceiling.
Joe moaned in pain as he hit the floor, suddenly very confused at his wife's
extreme twist, but thankful that the cuffs were no longer cutting him. The long
end of the rope that had held his arms up in the air was still attached to Joe's
cuffs. Joanna grabbed it, and pulled him out of the room, dragging her husband.
She disappeared, coming back with a dolly. Joe tried to move away, suddenly
worried about her intentions. Somehow she seemed like an entirely different
person. Joanna shoved the dolly up against him, threading the long rope through
the frame, and pulling him tight up against the dolly. Tying the rope around,
she tilted the dolly back, and whisked him out the side door. Joe watched his
house receding as he was carted backwards along the driveway.
She turned the dolly around, giving him the first view of his car trunk. A ramp
of two by tens allowed her to push him up and slide him in. Instead of slamming
the trunk lid, she tied the rope through the lid and let the end of the dolly
stick out so it would be easier to extract when she got to where she was going.
"Where are we going?" Pleaded Joe with a mumble, his panic amplifying. He
might as well have been talking to the wind, as Joanna simply got in the
driver's seat and took off with her cargo down the driveway.
Joe's tormented ride came to an end. The trunk lid was untied, and he was
dumped out of the trunk, still tied to the dolly. After a bumpy ride over a
curb, he realized he was in front of the tattoo parlor. "No!" He yelled into
his gag. Down the block a few night shoppers looked at the naked man on the
dolly. A police car pulled up, its lights flashing.
"What's going on here, Miss?" An officer asked Joanna.
She handed him a paper, and said, "Nothing much. Just making a delivery."
"Oh, and your driver's license?"
She rummaged in her purse, finding the license.
"Well, I can see you are in order. Just remember, this is a delivery spot. You
can only park here for fifteen minutes, Miss," said the officer.
"OK, officer. I won't be long. As you can see, he's already marked and even
tagged. I called ahead and they're expecting me," said Joanna, retrieving her
documents and wheeling her husband into 'Gate's Tattoo'.
"Well, have a good day then, and good luck with the pig," said the officer.
Joe was frantic, ripping at his bindings, and making maneuvering the hand truck
difficult. He had barely gotten over the idea that his wife had gone bananas,
and now he'd learned that she intended to make a longpig of him. This was so
insane, his mind screamed, watching the door open and close as Joanna struggled
to pull him through, and then push him up to the opening beside the counter.
"I see you've managed to get around to bringing him in," said the old man who'd
tattooed and tagged Joe.
"Yes. He's squirmy, but he's in good shape. I have a negative blood type here,
so I expect twice the normal bounty on organs with this one," said Joanna, who
knew the organs were worth ten times the meat.
"One point four is scale. Take it or leave it," bargained the man.
"One point five, or I take him across town. All they'd need to do is change the
tag."
"OK. Deal," said the man behind the counter, way up where Joe couldn't see him.
The man's face looked over, inspecting the wrapped package. "Looks like he's
not going anywhere. Let me make out a check." Joe looked over at his wife as
she waited for the check. She didn't look down until the last minute.
"You be cooperative, Joe, and it will be fun. I mean, either way, your in
professional hands now. You're going to be dissected for organs, and then
butchered. They're very good at it, I hear. You'll get to watch a lot of it
before you pass out, if you're lucky because they want everything as fresh as
they can get it. You're such a good submissive; why don't you just pretend it's
another scene," said Joanna.
"No!" Screamed Joe through his panty gag. He saw a check pass over the counter
to his wife.
"Well, see you later. Oh, and I've already put in a request for some ribs.
They say the cock is mine too, though it will cost me a fortune to buy it back.
I called the outlet. So you see, it really is, I'll see you later, Joe," smiled
Joe's wife as she untied the dolly, dumped him on the floor and swung out the
door. Joe could hear her dump the dolly into the trunk, get into his car, start
it up and drive it away.
Joe was alone on the floor, his hands and feet tied together behind him. Over
on the other side of the counter he could hear the old man dangling chains.
Suddenly the man appeared in front of him with a small torch. The man tossed a
lead shield over Joe's body. The shield had a hole in it for his cock, and the
man quickly spot welded the keychain ring shut permanently, sparks burning
blisters onto his penis. Then the old man got up, setting the torch on the
counter. His hand came back with a heavy chain, snapping it shut with a padlock
on the newly sealed shut ring. The chain was maybe two and a half feet long.
The man yanked on the chain, leading Joe into the entranceway to the side of the
counter. The pressure on his foreskin had Joe humping along, doing his best not
to force the man to pull him by his cock. Joe heard a snip of a second lock,
and the man stopped pulling.
Looking down, he saw that his cock was now chained to a rail. The rail looked
like a railroad rail, only it had a groove down the middle. Inside the groove
Joe made out what looked like a chain pulley. His chain was locked to a ring on
the pulley. As he was examining the new bondage, the man kicked him over onto
his stomach, and started cutting and untying the remaining ropes. Joe imagined
that this might be his chance, but the man stopped at the ropes and gag. Joe's
hands were still solidly cuffed behind his back. Still, his legs were free, and
as the circulation returned, he imagined he might be able to do something to
free himself.
"Please, Mister!" Joe begged.
The man stepped away from Joe, returning back to his seat behind the counter.
Joe had been pulled to the rail, and could see right down the back of the
counter where the man worked.
"Get up, piggy. Time to go for one last little walk," said the man.
"No. Please, listen. I was set up. I have money. I can pay you!"
"This is a legitimate business, Mister. I can't take your money. Now get up,
longpig, and start your processing," said the man, obviously enjoying the
pleading.
Joe thought, might as well get up and fight, trying to think up a plan every
inch of the way up to his feet. If I could just get close enough to kick, Joe
imagined, knowing the odds of success were slim even if he connected. With his
hands still cuffed behind him, he had to fight just for balance.
"There you go, son. Well, have a nice time. Be sure to close your eyes tight
and take a big breath at the baths. Oh yes, I'm supposed to say, thanks for
picking Reynold's Meats," said the man from his stool. His hand punched a
button on the wall. Joe could hear gears engaging. Suddenly the link in the
groove was moving. Joe realized that the chain was so short that he'd only be
able to delay following it for a few inches. He looked over at the old man just
as the chain tugged, and he was forced to take a step forward. Soon it was a
second step, and the unlikely idea of overpowering the old man was history.
Two more steps and he was in a corridor. Then he was pulled beyond some
swinging doors. He was in a storage room, one half storage, the other half
railed walkway. Finally, ten feet in front of him he could see another set of
swinging door. He tried to step forward, forcing the chain to stretch back some
so he could grab the chain with his cuffed hands, and stop the machine, but it
was super industrial strength, the gears not even straining. Over the door a
big sign read, 'Think Meat!"
"Oh God! No! Please! I can make you rich!" Screamed Joe over his shoulder as
he was forced toward the door. Finally the door was in front of him. He braced
a foot on the edge, the chain pulling the skin on his cock until he could feel
his balls being pulled along the shaft of his cock. He tried to bear it, but it
was too much, and like a snapped rubber band, he fell through the door, somehow
still on his feet. Before him was a small factory. They were using cheap
labor, he could tell, from the sight of all the foreign and mostly female faces.
He tried stepping off the track, but it didn't do any good. Just in front of
him were two cleaning vats, the rail disappearing into the chemicals.
Beyond that, women waited at tables that seemed in two halves so the chain could
run through the middle of them. A split set of rollers were on each half, so
the longpigs could be wheeled from station to station for efficient organ
extraction. They had on surgical masks, and brandished scalpels. From the
speed of the rail, Joe realized he'd be in and out of the two vats of liquid in
five minutes. After that, he'd be on the tables, being harvested. Just out of
sight he could see a set of workers waiting at a huge table saw near the middle
of the line, followed by a table labeled, heart and lungs.
Joe took it all in screaming. Some ignored him while others appeared to grow
broader smiles.
Looking down at his cock, he could do nothing to stop the relentless tug of the
chain, each step moving him closer to his ultimate demise. Knowing this, he
went a little crazy as his foot touched the slightly acidic first bath, where he
noticed the hair was melting on the toe he'd just touched to the bath.
Oh god, it's started, he moaned, resigning himself to his fate. No longer
fighting the inevitable, he put his legs into the bath, and felt the burning
begin. By the time he emerged from the acid bath and got his first breath as a
hairless and red skinned longpig, Joe's mind had completely snapped. Over and
over again, his mind returned, "Think meat! Just think meat! The chant echoed
with every measured step, finding his mouth, getting louder, as if by saying it
he'd find some spark of submissive gratification, though, as the butterflies
rose to the beat of bat wings, and he was finally twisted around by a narrow
steel cage, and then pulled over backwards until he was laid on his back onto
the first cutting station, none seemed to come.
Twenty minutes later, after a good gutting and the extraction of a nicely
skinned pelt, he was still chanting, thinking it possibly a way of focusing past
the unbearable pain. Having been rotated at the first station by the cage, he
was being pulled head first to the next station by the chain that held his penis
down between the divided disassembly line rollers.
A nice looking oriental lady bent over the split open, living carcass, and
shined her lights onto a perfect pair of operational eyeballs. She seemed to be
looking right into his soul until Joe closed his eyes, but wasn't really looking
at anything more than the twenty thousand dollars worth of visionary salvage
parts, more than equal to this pig's purchase price all by themselves. The
little lady quickly and deftly took the first cut with her finest scalpel,
removing the eyelids to eliminate any distracting flutters. A doctor in her
country of origin, she was still a little pissed at the men who controlled the
AMA for not granting her a license with which she could make ten times what she
did for this meat company. In fact, just to get even, she'd convinced the less
skilled meat workers on the line to move her station up, forcing them to go to
the extra length of clamping the arteries to the kidneys and digestive organs so
the male meat could enjoy a little more of the proceedings before the inevitable
demise from animal on the hoof to animal on the hook. Not that he wasn't on the
hook too, thought the oriental woman, noticing how his cock was pulled so
tightly between his legs that it looked more like a pussy.
Clamping Joe's head with a large vise, she leaned over again, and said,
"Alwight, be wery wery still, piggy. Wiss lon't wort one bit." Digging in and
raising an eyeball with a mini-spatula, she severed the first set of muscles and
nerves. Joe watched his one eyeball being lifted away, and pleaded with the
woman above him with the other eye and a horse, nearly gone voice, right up
until she started wedging his second eye with her tools, seemingly looking
around his eye as she concentrated on finding the final eye nerves. Feeling the
slow, grinding, horror blow of his total torment and impending death, Joe's
world went black. Still, Joe lingered for minutes, feeling himself being cut
apart by efficient power saws, as if he were no more than a sightless carcass,
which of course he was. Up above, the workers sliced away, thinking exactly
that, in spite of the occasional groan or weak attempt to move the bound,
leatherless limbs. Then, the limbs too were neatly severed with four brisk runs
of a per-positioned band saw, and the still useful cuffs recovered from the far
less dangerous limbs. Feeling Joanna's perordered penis being severed, and his
pelvis hooked, Joe knew he was swinging, suddenly a hooked carcass of mostly
ribs and a couple of hams. He briefly remembered that at least two of the ribs
were Joanna's, and sickly wondered which, thinking it somewhat Adam and Evish as
his world vanished with the quick draining of his last pints of blood.
An hour later, quartered sectioned off into easily packaged portions, Joe was
being driven in three different directions, part per-packaged meat, part waste
byproduct, part windfall to the price gouging medical community where he'd no
doubt enhance a number of fortunate organ recipients. Even several pints of
valuable type negative blood was frozen for life saving value. In a utilitarian
way of thinking, Joe's death had been an overall moral plus.
_________________________________________________
Everyone at the Will reading hated Joanna for what she had done, except of
course her friend Tina and of course Dominique from the parlor who got a hefty
ten percent for her troubles. Joanna didn't much care, knowing that by law they
had to give her the mansion, land, possessions and investments. She was made,
Joanna realized, sitting in front in her black widow dress.
"OK, we have to read the Will, so please calm down and let's get to it," said
the lawyer.
Joanna smiled victoriously, her friends holding her hands for support against
the hostility of the Aunts and Uncles who filled the three rows behind the trio.
"First, the will is very specific that all land, personal property and of course
the house are to remain in the hands of, as Joe himself wrote, "My beloved wife
Joanna."" There were moans.
"It you'll sign this please, we can get on with selling the cars and summer
house to pay the inheritance taxes," said the lawyer, pushing a paper in front
of Joanna. She signed, more than happy to pay the price for her newfound
fortune.
"Is that it?" Asked Uncle Henry.
"Yes, I'm afraid that is," said the lawyer.
People started to get up to leave.
"Oh, except for one thing."
Everyone paused, all eyes on the lawyer.
"It seems he has left you, Uncle Henry, a note. I have no idea what it says
because he sealed it, and judging from what I have already distributed, it can't
be of any asset value." The lawyer handed Uncle Henry a single, thin business
envelope.
Uncle Henry stuck his finger into a seam, and ripped it open, all of the in-laws
looking on with renewed curiosity. "Hum!" He mused, reading the first line of
the meat certificate on Joanna. The faces on the in-laws brightened as they
sealed off the aisle.
