MPI
(c) Aiken, 2002, All rights reserved
Chapter Four
9:14 AM:
"Tap, tap. . ."
"Tap, tap, TAP, TAP. . ."
Don had dozed off slightly, though he had only been waiting a few minutes for
Jeneen to return. There had been a steady, persistent tapping at his truck door
window, tugging him back toward consciousness. He opened his eyes suddenly to
see the distraught faces of two teenaged girls looking up at his door glass. He
straightened up abruptly and lowered the window to see what their problem was.
"Please Sir, can you tell me?" the first one frantically asked Don, "Do you have
Lorraine Eiderhorne on this truck?"
"Umm, yes, I think so," Don replied, still regaining his alertness, and looking
at his log sheet, "Yes, that's her name all right. We just picked her up. Her
and another lady also, from Mr. Mulholland. Why do you ask?"
"Well, um, you see, I am Misty Eiderhorne, her daughter," she said, trying to
fight back her emotions, "I have to see her, OK? Please? I just need to say
goodbye, if it's not too late."
"I am afraid that's not possible, young miss," Jeneen said, coming from around
the back of the truck and overhearing Misty's request, "I just secured your mum
into a stretch locker and sealed up the truck. I can assure you she's in no
condition to see anyone right now."
"Oh no! This is so terrible!" Misty cried, "I don't believe this! I only found
out an hour ago when she called to tell me that Mulholland had chosen her to go.
Oh, I just hate that sick bastard! I left class and got here as fast as I could.
Isn't there something you could do for me, Sir? Please? I have to get on that
truck right now and see her again!"
As Misty surrendered to her feelings and began sobbing, the other girl who
appeared to be her classmate, tried to hug her and console her.
Don looked at Jeneen briefly, knowing there was nothing they could do; Jeneen
confirmed his thoughts as she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head sadly
back at him. They both knew it was a strict policy that no one was allowed
aboard a delivery truck except an MPI employee, or a fully committed meat-wench.
There was no getting around that.
"Look Miss," Don said, climbing out of his truck cab, "I'm real sorry about
this, OK? But rules are rules. You need to remember your mom as you last saw
her, because there's nothing else we can do for you. There is no way you can
enter our truck unless you are going to the plant for processing yourself."
"Well Ok then, that's just what I'll have to do, I guess!" Misty said suddenly.
Her friend looked at her, horrified. "I'd miss her too much anyway, Gail," Misty
continued, galvanizing her decision in her friend's direction, "especially with
her being whisked away like this."
"Well, shit the bed!" Jeneen thought, "I guess the stupid gene runs clear
through the bitch's family!"
"Ma'am, I don't think you quite realize what you are saying," Don said, gently
trying to frighten Misty away from her spur of the moment idea, "You are talking
about being tortured, and beaten, and raped and strangled just like her. And for
days on end. It's not only the worst experience you can possibly imagine, it is
the worst experience a whole lot of very smart people can possibly dream up for
you. And after all that you would eventually be sold to someone who will cook
you up for his entree. And if you proved to be strong and hearty enough, there's
a good chance you would be live-spitted and roasted alive in the bargain. I know
you want to see your mother again, but is it really worth that kind of
suffering?"
"That's right, dear," Jeneen echoed, "Take it from someone who knows, everything
they do to you hurts as badly as it can, and for as long as it can. It's not a
pretty picture."
"Quit trying to scare me," Misty shot back defiantly, "It won't work. Besides I
know about all that stuff. We studied it in school. I am telling you I want to
go on that truck however it is you have to do it. And If that makes me into one
of your meat witches or cold cuts, or whatever else you call them, then that's
fine with me."
"How old are you, Miss?" Jeneen asked her.
"Just turned 19," Misty replied, straightening up her back, "According to our
textbooks that makes me old enough to volunteer."
"That is correct, but will your dermal implant verify that age?" Don queried
again, concerned with how young the girl appeared, "because our new tote-frames
automatically check identities and ages of occupants, while registering their
invokement with the census database. Penalties for lying about your status can
be very severe."
"I've given you my correct age." Misty said proudly. "As long as nothing is
wrong with my implant, it will confirm that."
"Well ... Ok," Don agreed, "But we'll need to move fast. Jeneen, how are we
doing on the schedule?"
"Pretty good, Sir." she replied, "If we can get her framed up and stowed in
under 20 minutes, I think we'll still be on time for your next stop at
Bradshaw's loan office. I guess we should take your statement, now, young lady.
Do you remember how you have to say it?"
"Yes I do," Misty answered with a slight smile, "After all, I didn't cut class
that day... hmmm, lets see.. I have decided to become meat... No no, that's not
it -um. . oh yeah! ... I am volunteering to become meat!"
"There we go, sugar," Jeneen smiled, "You've said it correctly. It looks like
you'll get to ride with your mummy after all. I shall go fetch her a tote-frame
now, Sir, if you approve."
"I do," Don said.
"Better get two," Gail said, "I am volunteering to become meat also."
"Oh Baby, you didn't need to do that," Misty said to her sadly, "You hardly knew
my mom. Don't you know that once you have said that sentence in public, there is
no backing out?"
"Of course I know that, silly." said Gail, "I was in class that day too. And I'm
not doing it for her, sweetheart. I'm doing it for you." Gail hugged Misty
again, and held her tightly while both girls cried. Jeneen, shaking her head,
went after two tote-frames instead of one.
By the time the two teary-eyed teenagers released each other, Jeneen had already
returned from the bins at the rear of the truck where extra equipment was stowed
for situations like this. She carried one tote-frame in each hand by the large
form-fitted grab-handle welded to the back spines of the frames.
The tote-frames stood nearly two feet tall on six pairs of curved legs of
different lengths. Without occupants inside of them, the frames looked like
oddly-shaped shining chrome spiders. But no spider ever had a bite like this.
When a tote-frame was correctly placed on a meat-wench, four two-inch wide
locking steel bands encircled her upper body, gripping her neck, breasts and
waist in an anguishing embrace, with her arms folded up severely high on her
back. Two more pairs of bands encircled the victim's folded legs, pressing them
up hard against her stomach and chest. At the middle of her back where all the
bands met at the spine plate, the grab was positioned, which allowed for easy
lifting and loading of the wench.
Together with the leg bands the frame would render the wench into a diabolical
ball tie, reducing her to a simple and very portable piece of agonizing
girlflesh. So portable and handy in fact that MPI made the frames available to
the public free of charge at most gift shops and department stores, giving a
flat ten percent discount for any services performed when they were used.
The benefits in speed and efficiency at packing up and offloading framed
wenches, along with the compact arrangement in which they could be trucked, were
well worth the incentives MPI gave customers for using their expensive
recyclable equipment. Warnings were posted however, urging users to be very sure
about what they were doing. When checking them out, every customer had to sign a
statement acknowledging that the clerk had reminded them of three all-important
facts:
First, being locked inside an MPI tote-frame is an enforceable invokement
contract, creating the immediate status of meat-wench for its occupant. It
cannot be rescinded.
Second, all locking bands on a tote-frame, as well as turnbuckles and their
anchors, interconnect magnetically with virtually no effort at all. Any
foolishness or horseplay will result in the permanent creation of a meat-wench,
provided its occupant is female and of proper age. If its occupant is someone
other than that, the customer and/or the occupant may face stiff fines and
penalties. At a judge's discretion, their families may also be ordered to
contribute a meat-wench in that person's place.
Last and most importantly, all tote-frame bands use a patented unpickable
locking system which broadcasts a silent alarm if ever tampered with or cut
away. MPI agents respond to that signal even more quickly than to the beacon
emitted when a tote-frame is properly closed, and it's occupant ready for
pickup. The only way a tote-frame may legally be removed is after its delivery
to a central processing plant. This sensible feature assures the meat-wench, as
well as anyone responsible for the tote-frame, that there indeed will be no
turning back.
Jeneen sat the ominous devices down on the parking lot near the truck, and
reached into a pocket of her smock for a few pieces of additional hardware that
were always required for secure wench framing.
"Let's go girls," she said a bit impatiently, "Save your sentimentality for
later. You two should be completely undressed by now. We have a tight schedule
to keep, you know."
Reacting instantly, Misty and Gail swiftly disrobed and threw all of their
clothing into a trash bin a few yards away. Misty recorded a brief voice message
on her phone, then ran and tossed the phone and car keys into her car, locking
its doors behind her.
In less than two minutes the girls stood anxious and naked before Jeneen,
wondering what to do next. Misty, at five foot five, was almost a smaller carbon
copy of her statuesque mother, except that Misty's hair was a couple of shades
lighter, and her skin was tanned much darker. Her hair was long and braided very
attractively, just like her mom's, but Misty preferred to wear even bolder
makeup than her mother did. And unlike her mother who wore it only to work,
Misty went full-face wherever she roamed.
Willowy Gail Thornton formed a stark contrast to her barbie-doll proportioned
lover. A slim five foot ten on her bare feet, Gail was a track star at school,
and had very muscular legs to prove it. Her beautifully rounded ass compensated
for her rather smallish bustline. Gail kept her hair cut into a long pageboy. It
was the deepest brown it could be dyed before being called black, and streaked
with gothic orange highlights. She rarely applied much makeup, but when she did,
she liked wearing the edgiest metallic shades of gloss she could find for her
lips, mostly because it always put Misty in the mood for some marathon french
kisses.
"Now that's more like it," Jeneen said sweetly, appreciating how her volunteers
made up for lost time, "So, do you ladies know what we're going to do now?"
"Um, I think we are supposed to climb under those frames and close them up
around us, aren't we?" Gail asked.
"Well, that was probably true for the frames you studied at school," Jeneen
answered, "But actually, these are our commercial models, so we'll do it a
little bit differently, but it's not hard at all. Here, I'll show you. Hands
comfortably behind your backs please, one inside of the other. Each of you may
hold one of these disks in the palm of your outside hand."
Misty and Gail had no trouble at all with these instructions. Each girl took a
two-inch wide black metal wafer offered by Jeneen and positioned her hands, one
cupped inside the other, in the small of her back. Jeneen lifted Misty's hands
slightly away from the girl's backside and pressed another thicker disk, this
one being silver colored, against the back of Misty's left hand. A magnetic
attraction immediately engaged between the silver disk and the black disk
clenched in the palm of Misty's right hand, and held the silver disk firmly in
place.
"Remain absolutely still for fifteen seconds, please," Jeneen said, before
giving Gail the same instructions for her disks.
In only a few seconds the magnetic bonds grew much stronger, until the disks
were pressing the girls' hands very tightly together. Suddenly in a burst of
pain, the girls felt something stabbing through their hands. Both teens cried
out at almost the same moment.
"Ow! Help! It's cutting me!" Misty wailed, "What's it doing? Oh god, this hurts
like hell!
"Oh jeez it hurts!" Gail echoed, "It's burning me! Make this thing stop! Please
take it off!!"
"Calm down, girls," Jeneen said, "Your hands have merely been fastened together
using our new bloodless superconducting magnetic piercing tools. MPI employs
them now for all tote-frame piercings. The disks are programmed to penetrate
your flesh from both sides and link themselves up. They follow up their docking
procedures with five seconds of searing heat, cauterizing your tissues for
minimal blood loss and shock. Just in case you were wondering, taking them off
is not an option. They are irremovable. You will wear these palm disks for the
rest of your unfortunate meat-wench experience." Jeneen concluded her
explanation with the cheerfully sarcastic sing-song voice bored tour guides and
trolley drivers were fond of using.
"Piercings?" Gail asked in astonishment, "You mean there will be more of them?"
"Oh, yes," Jeneen answered her dryly, picking up one of the frames, "Don't say
we didn't try to warn you. Gail, dear, I need you to do a full squat now, so
your frame can be fitted around you properly."
An assortment of curious onlookers was assembling nearby to watch, including
several joggers who had stopped on their midmorning runs, and a number of people
on their way inside the building to do business of one type or another. "Hey
guys, wait up!" one of the joggers was heard yelling to his partners further on,
"This is worth watching. These gals are going to be fixed up good!"
Hoping to curry favor with her frighteningly efficient handler, and to get these
embarrassing moments behind her, Gail obeyed immediately and struggled to keep
her balance on the balls of her feet as the naked fitting began. Jeneen
positioned the seventeen-inch long metallic spine of the tote-frame along Gail's
back, lining it up so that four pairs of the two-inch wide metal strips would
join in front where they were supposed to -at Gail's throat, just above her
breasts, across the center of her breasts and at the waist. Gail was trembling
uncontrollably now. Between the burning pain in her hands, the humiliation of
crouching bare-assed in front of total strangers in a crowded parking lot, and
the shockingly cold caress of the tote-frame, she began to cry.
"Relax dear, this is your dry fit only," Jeneen said tenderly. "We won't tighten
it up until everything is just so." Two small buttons were located in back near
the bottom of Gail's neck band. When Jeneen depressed the first button, the four
pairs of torso bands closed together gently in front, and with a motorized
whining sound, locked themselves together along their one-inch wide magnetic
seams. The bands were still fairly loose at this stage, allowing Jeneen to line
them up more precisely. The tote frame emitted two soft beeps, indicating that
its occupant was recognized at the database, and that her meat wench status had
been approved and accepted by the census bureau via wireless transmission.
Jeneen paid particular attention to the bands directly over Gail's breasts. The
central breast band was different from the others. Two slots were cut into it,
one over each breast; each of the slots was four inches wide by an inch and a
half tall. Jeneen lined up Gail's nipples and pulled them firmly through the
narrow openings. Jeneen continued to work the girl's breasts into the slots very
aggressively, until the openings were packed full of Gail's tender flesh.
Eventually, Gail's nipples protruded several inches outward from the front of
the slots with a fair amount of semi-flattened breast tissue trailing behind
them. Gail groaned and sniffled all the while this was being done to her.
"This hurts me..." Gail moaned softly, looking down sadly at her misshapen
breasts.
"I know it does, baby," Jeneen said, "But the more of it I squeeze through now,
the less of it will be squashed later by the frame's bands. And you're darn
lucky your boobs aren't much fuller than an A cup. The bigger a girl's titties
are, the more these slots are designed to hurt her, especially when being hauled
around in her frame." Jeneen gave Gail a knowing look, as both of them were
thinking that Misty's treasures were more than twice the size of Gail's.
"This is going to hurt quite a bit too, hon," Jeneen said, "Just like with your
hands, it will be over with very quickly."
With that brief warning, Jeneen deftly took a pair of inch and a half wide disks
into each hand, and simultaneously placed them upon both of Gail's breast tips,
just behind her swollen nipples. In a few short seconds their magnetic forces
began to adhere, and squeeze together firmly. Jeneen released the disks, just as
Gail began writhing in pain.
"Oh my god! Please stop this!" Gail screamed, "I can't take this anymore,
please! I've changed my mind -please let me go!" At this very moment Jeneen
could tell that the piercing and cauterizing process had kicked in, because Gail
suddenly stopped begging for mercy, and concentrated her energy on releasing
earsplitting screams instead.
"Sure you can take it. You're a very healthy wench," Jeneen finally answered,
when Gail's lungs had been exhausted, "Look there! The disk-docking is complete,
and you've certainly survived. You've barely lost any blood, either. Now it's
time to snap on the turnbuckles. I think they look so hot..." Gail looked down
woozily and nearly fainted, as she watched Jeneen maneuver a short steel rod
between her two breast disks. The black disks on her breasts weren't smooth on
top like Gail's palm disks were. These had swiveling steel eyelets fixed into
their centers, obviously for attachment purposes. The narrow rod Jeneen held had
two fixed eyelets also at its midpoint, and spring clips at each end which
snapped easily onto the hoops of Gail's breast disks. A knurled ring near one
end of the connecting bar allowed its length to be adjusted by telescoping it in
or out. When Jeneen had the bar sized just tightly enough to exert a strong pull
between Gail's breast disks, she twisted the ring firmly into place, as Gail
wept continuously.
With Gail's breastwork complete, Jeneen pulled the remaining two sets of curved
metal bands around the poor girl's folded-up legs. She waited for the bands to
autolatch loosely as the upper four sets had done. After checking to see these
bonds were positioned correctly, Jeneen crouched down so that she was almost
nose to nose with her victim. As Gail was still so wobbly and near to blacking
out, Jeneen had to hold her up carefully for the final procedures.
"Focus for me baby. We're almost done with the hardest parts," Jeneen said,
squeezing Gail's cheeks firmly enough to summon the girl's attention, "I just
need you to stick out your tongue for me as far as you can, and we'll finish
this up quickly." Gail eyes were trying to roll up, but she did her best to
comply. She thrust her tongue out as far as she could, and Jeneen pressed yet
another pair of disks onto its midpoint. Both these disks were red-colored, and
one inch across, with a pivoting hoop on top like her breast disks had. Jeneen
had already linked another turnbuckle rod to this hoop, and it dangled freely as
she pinched the disks together. As soon as the disks began to clamp down upon
Gail's tender tongue with their predetermined ferocity, Jeneen released her hold
on the disks, and reached behind Gail's neck to depress the second button on the
tote-frame.
This button engaged the final lock down procedure. With a steady clicking sound,
all six sets of bands proceeded to tighten up around Gail. She shrieked and
babbled helplessly around her tongue disks, which were just beginning to pierce
and sear themselves into place.
The crowd of bystanders was ooing and ahhing at all these developments. The
people seemed to be very impressed with Jeneen's professionalism, as well as the
gurgling screams Gail managed to eject while this process was completed. In
about 20 seconds the tote-frame's compression cycle was finished and it sounded
off three sharp beeps, signaling the end of a successful framing.
Jeneen gently laid the wheezing, sobbing girl onto her side, and congratulated
her.
"You did just great, hon," Jeneen whispered excitedly into her ear, as she
clipped Gail's tongue rod to one of the eyelets at the center of her breast rod,
"Much better than a lot of the girls do. I really am proud of you. And your
tongue disks have something very special in them. They inject a small amount of
narcotic into your bloodstream to relax you up a bit for the long drive ahead.
It should be kicking in about now. I'm told it helps the girls quite a lot at
this point. After all, they have so much pain to deal with, while adjusting to
the artful new designs of their bodies." Jeneen twist-locked the knurled ring of
the now much-shortened tongue rod, forcing Gail's head down sharply toward her
imprisoned breasts, which from the tightening of the tote-frame were now crushed
viciously against her body.
"And if it's any consolation to you, dear," Jeneen added, "I'm going to let that
miserable bitch friend of yours really have it good, Ok? I think it's her
comeuppance for getting you into this mess to begin with."
Having said that, Jeneen rolled Gail over until her knees rested against the
gravelly cement of the parking lot to perform the final maneuver with Gail's
arms. Though the disks of her palm piercings were excruciatingly tight, they
still allowed Gail's painfully linked hands to pivot, as Jeneen firmly lifted
her victim's arms to mid-back. Then with a steady pull Jeneen tugged her wrists
even higher, wrenching the girl's shoulders and elbows until, with another wail
from behind Gail's tethered tongue, the victim's hands cleared the grab of the
tote frame and came to rest against the metal of the frame's upper spine.
Recessed into this spot of the tote-frame was yet another ingenious magnetic
disk. Perfectly positioned for linking up with the disks joining Gail's palms,
it rooted them irresistibly in place with a magnetic force of 700 lbs. per
square inch.
"There we go, sugar!" Jeneen proclaimed, straightening herself up stiffly, and
releasing a sigh of completion. "All trussed up and ready for the loading!"
The crowd of observers burst into applause and a few cheers. Jeneen looked up
at them in surprise, but then relaxed and smiled pleasantly for her admirers.
She glanced at Don, who was looking very proud and excited by her performance.
She saw him clapping too, and wearing a big smile on his face.
"Fabulous work, Jeneen!" He said above the clamor of their spontaneous audience,
"Seven minutes on the dot. Never seen it done better, or faster!"
"Thank you, Sir," she said, blushing happily. She pulled some more hair wisps
away from her eyes, and straightened up her smock again, "I will go take care of
our little Misty now, if you like."
"I like." he said to her simply before turning to the crowd, which numbered
nearly forty people, "Thanks folks! Thanks a lot. Everyone here should be moving
along now, and getting back to your business. We appreciate your support, and if
you enjoyed what you saw just now, look us up. We're MPI . . Meat Processors
International. We're in the book, and we schedule free tours of our downtown
facility."
Laughing and chatting joyously, the people obliged Don and began to disperse. A
couple of the men shook hands with him, and patted him appreciatively on the
shoulder before leaving. Two college age girls shyly approached Jeneen and asked
how they could get a job like hers. She told them they could apply at MPI for an
intern's position. Several new trainees were hired every summer, but applicants
needed to have very good grades and references, and had to commit to two years
of full-time work following their six months of training. They smiled and
thanked her sweetly for her advice, and left with the others.
As Jeneen approached Misty, she smiled and asked what she had thought of Gail's
wench framing.
"Oh, my god. . ." she sobbed, staring at her helpless friend and knowing no
words to describe her horror and grief, "Surely, you can't be allowed to do all
those other things to us. It's despicable! The piercing, the arm twisting, and
that awful crap with her titties and her tongue. We didn't sign up for any of
that!"
"Yes you did," Jeneen replied with her eyes narrowing a bit, and seeing more of
Misty's mother in her with each passing moment, "By freely volunteering, you
signed on for any method of transport and preparation currently in use by MPI.
You should know that our methods change every so often. They are forever adding
curious little refinements."
"My poor, poor Gail," Misty whimpered in a detached kind of way, "I'm so sorry I
got her mixed up in all this. She had no idea. . . I wish I could get her out of
it."
"There's no use even dreaming of that," Jeneen said, dispassionately picking up
the second tote-frame and walking back to Misty, "Especially at this point.
Besides, I intend to have you locked well and truly inside this frame and loaded
on the truck in the next ten minutes. I should think you would be considering
yourself at this moment."
"Um... yeah, you're probably right," Misty agreed. She swallowed nervously, and
glanced once more to her dear friend, who laid trembling in pain and crumpled
into a ball on the rough pavement a few yards away. Ten minutes could seem like
an eternity sometimes, but Misty dearly wished it would be two eternities
instead.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
MPI
(c) Aiken, 2002, All rights reserved
