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In a future, dystopian society, cannibalism has become acceptable. In fact, international trading of female meat has become a profitable commodities market.

All women are required to register with the Protein Supplement Board (PSB) when they turn eighteen.  Then they are inspected, graded, microchipped, and will be subject to the PSB Draft until they turn fifty.

The stories that follow – fictional, of course – describe life in this society.




Linda Mitchell had set her alarm for five, but she didn’t sleep well and slipped out of bed at four-thirty. She had bathed the night before and laid out her clothes. She dressed quietly so as not to wake the others - jeans, tee, and canvas shoes. Then she slipped out the front door.  Her father had volunteered to drive her, but she declined. It was only a few blocks to the high school parking lot and she saw no need to wake him early. Besides, this was something she wanted to do on her own.

The first hint of pink was showing in the east. The streets were dark except for the occasional street lamp. Somewhere a night bird sang its mournful song. The air was already damp and warm. It would be another hot one.  Linda walked quietly.

“Hey, you!”

The whisper startled her. She turned to see Shelly Tate behind her.

“Going for inspection?” Shelly asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yep. Me, too.”

The two girls had some classes together in high school,  but were not close friends.

“Mind if I walk along?” Shelly asked.

“Of course not.”

“Well, this is the big day.”

“Yeah.”

“Nervous?”

“A little.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

The two walked in silence for a while, each lost in her own thoughts. PSB law required all girls to have their meat inspected after they turned eighteen. All girls began receiving conversion orientation when they were in middle school. Of course, the teachers tried to make the best of it, pointing out that inspection did not mean they would be called up for conversion. That depended on a lot of things – market conditions, grading, exemptions, etc. But the inspections were required.

Just have it done and then go about your business, the teacher had advised.

Linda glanced at Shelly. She had no doubt the girl would be graded A-Choice. Guessing grades was almost a sport among the girls. Shelly was a petite thing with olive skin, warm brown eyes and a tight figure from cheerleading and gymnastics.  

“What do you think you’ll get, Linda?”

Linda shrugged.

“Have no idea.”

“I’m guessing ‘A’” Shelly said.

That was certainly possible. Linda considered herself a standard issue blue-eyed blonde, a little taller than average. Her passion for swimming had been her only athletic endeavor – but it had kept her in shape.

Now they approached the high school parking lot where the PSB bus would pick them up. There were a few cars and clusters of people. Some parents had brought their daughters. It was a quiet, solemn scene. Suddenly, a horn blared and the girls heard catcalls and laughter.

“Guys!”  Shelly laughed. “There are always a few jerks.”

That was true. It was something of a tradition for boys to prowl the area on mornings when girls were to be picked up for inspection. Linda and Shelly stood away from the others.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Shelly said.

“What? Oh, I don’t know I was thinking anything. My mind is kind of a blank.”

“I was thinking that in a couple of hours we will be standing in a line – naked as jaybirds.”

Linda felt heat rise on her cheeks. A modest person by nature, being naked in front of strangers was what she dreaded most about the day ahead. She was glad it was too dark for Shelly to see her blush.

“Look! Here it comes!” Shelly said.

Headlights appeared in the distance and grew larger. The bus was painted a dull gray and bore the logo of the PSB – the Protein Supplement Board. Girls began to form a queue as it pulled into the parking lot.

“Here we go,” Shelly said.

Some girls embraced parents. A few had tears. They wore jeans and tees, shorts and tanks. Linda and Shelly got in line just as the door opened. A hefty, uniformed woman emerged.

“Morning, girls!”  she said cheerily. “Show me your ID as you get on.”

Linda and Shelly simultaneously reached into their hip pockets and pulled their cards. The PSB matron checked each one against a list on her clipboard. Linda and Shelly sat together. Linda was glad she had someone she knew on board.  

“You see her stun baton?” Shelly whispered.

Linda nodded. The weapon was holstered on the matron’s hip. The girls had been warned in orientation they would get a shock if they acted up.

“We’ll make a few more pickups on the way,” the matron said.

Then the bus pulled out. The sky lightened as they drove along the highway. A few times they stopped in tiny towns and more girls boarded, all sleepy-eyed and nervous. By the time they reached the city, the sun was fully up. A few motorists honked. Everybody recognized the PSB buses. Linda closed her eyes and tried her best to relax. In a few hours it would be over and she would be home. She remembered what Mrs. Winslow had advised in orientation.

Just think of yourself as meat during the inspection – it will help.

And so Linda did. She imagined herself as just 120 pounds of meat and bone – not Linda Mitchell, who had just turned eighteen in May.

“We’re here,” Shelly said.

Linda opened her eyes and saw they were arriving at a large building made of gray-painted cinder blocks. Girls were already lined up at one door.

“Looks like we’re going to be in the sun for a while,” Shelly said.

They filed off the bus and saw more uniformed matrons.

“To the back, ladies. To the back,” one matron said, waving her baton toward the line.

Linda and Shelly took their place, standing with arms crossed as the line inched slowly forward.

“I should have worn sunblock,” Linda muttered.

“Yeah – tell me!” Shelly laughed.

Linda hadn’t worn her watch, but guess they stood outside more than a half hour before they reached the doors. Inside, a large room was filled with the hubbub of many people.  Partitions blocked their view of most of the huge room.

“I think they do the inspections on the other side,” Shelly said.

“Okay, girls, we do this in groups of fifteen,” a very large African matron announced.  

The woman, who bulged at the seams of her uniform, walked along the line, tapping girls on the shoulder.

“Okay, this group follow me,” she said.

She led them to a door marked 6B.

“Right in here, girls.”

The room was long and narrow with wooden benches along the walls. The benches had wire baskets tucked beneath them. When the last girl entered, the matron and a younger uniformed woman stepped in and closed the door.

“Okay, ladies. The first order of business is for you to take off your clothes. That means everything, including jewelry – rings, bracelets, necklaces, nipple clips, clit studs. If you wasn’t born with it, it comes off. I want you nekkid as the day you came into this world.”

The matron grinned with a full keyboard of ivory teeth and Linda’s face grew hot again.

“Put everything in a basket.  It’ll be here when you get back.”

“Here goes,” Shelly sighed as she grasped the tails of her shirt and lifted the garment.  

Linda saw that Shelly had small, firm breasts held in a plain white bra.  Throughout the room, girls began stripping. Linda stood frozen for a moment.

“Better get with it, Linda,” Shelly warned.

“Oh – yeah.”

Linda tugged her tee up and over her head. She was fully a-blush now, the red spreading from her neck into sprinkles on her chest. Shelly was shimmying her jeans down, revealing finely muscled legs that already bore an early tan. Linda unfastened her own jeans, slid them down a bit, then sat on the bench. Shelly twisted her back toward Linda.

“A little help?”

“What?  Oh – um, I guess.”

Linda unclasped Shelly’s bra and it fell away, exposing the small but hard breasts with little dark nipples at their center. Linda blushed again.

“I’ll return the favor.”

Linda twisted and Shelly unlatched her bra.  Her arms instinctively folded over her chest as the bra came away. Shelly chuckled.

“You’ve got big ones, Linda. No need to be ashamed of those.”

Now Linda was blushing furiously. She had been a 34-D since she was fifteen. Suddenly, there was noise from the other end of the room. A girl was wailing. Linda saw the matron hovering over her.

“Get them panties off, girl – right now!” the matron bellowed.

The girl, a thin thing with long, limp brown hair, blubbered.

“Okay, we’ll do this the hard way,” the matron said, and unholstered her stun baton.

“Uh-oh!” Shelly whispered.

They heard a shriek and saw the unlucky girl fall from the bench, clutching at her chest.

“I think she got it right on the tit,” Shelly whispered.

“Now, get up and get them panties off,” the matron thundered.

The girl continued to blubber uncontrollably.

“Awright, get her up,” the matron told her assistant.

The second woman hoisted the girl up by the arms and the matron yanked her panties down to her knees, revealing a sparse thatch of brown hair between her thighs. The matron planted the tip of her baton in the thatch – and the girl jerked and screamed.

“Wow, a shot to the twat!” Shelly whispered.

The unfortunate girl collapsed onto the floor.

“Okay, see what happens when you hold things up?” the matron announced to the room. “You ladies get yourselves nekkid so we can get on with the show!”

The girls, all of whom had stopped to watch the spectacle, busily went about finishing their stripping.

“Better get ‘em off,” Shelly said.

“Oh.  Yeah.”

Linda pulled her white panties down, wrangled them off her feet, and sat on the bench with her thighs tightly together, revealing only a hint of dark blonde tuft. The girls, now naked, sat quietly on the benches, trying not to stare – but there was nowhere to look where there weren’t bare legs, boobs, and crotches. There was a knock on the door and the matron opened it slightly.

“Okay, girls, it’s time,” she announced. “Stand up and form a line at the door.”

The girls obeyed. Linda found herself standing behind a short and voluptuous redhead. She tried to avoid brushing against the large, bare bottom, but the line was tight and she pressed into the big warm cushions. She felt Shelly’s hard little boobs brush against her back.

“Sorry,” Shelly muttered.

And then they were marched out of the room. Now Linda saw what was on the other side of the partition – a room full of tables and devices – and naked girls. The girls from 6B crept slowly into the arena.

“On the scales,” a woman in white commanded the redhead in front of Linda.

The girl stepped onto a scale like in a doctor’s office.

“One hundred and thirty-two pounds,” the woman announced to a man in white uniform at a nearby table.

The man pecked the figure into a keyboard.

“Next.”

Quivering, Linda stepped up on the scales.

“Hands at your side,” the woman ordered.

Reluctantly, Linda moved her hands away from her crotch and saw that Shelly was looking right at her. She blushed.

“One hundred and eighteen pounds,” the woman said.

Linda stepped aside as Shelly mounted the scales. Now a black man in white – tee and slacks – approached her with a curious device that looked like a small plate on a stick. He placed it under her right breast.

“Lean forward a little,” he said.

Linda did so until her breast was fully on the plate.

“One-point-eight pounds,” the man announced to a woman at a table.

Then he moved the device to her left breast.

“One-point-eight,” he said.
Though humiliated, Linda felt a peculiar satisfaction that both of hers were equal. She remembered that breast meat brought a premium price.

“To the next station,” the man said.

Linda moved to the right where a woman with hands gloved in prophylactic approached her with what looked like a large set of tweezers. The woman studied Linda’s breasts for a moment, then grasped her right nipple.

Oh!

The woman smiled.

“Gotta measure these, too,” the woman said.

She began brushing a thumb lightly over the nipple. To Linda’s amazement, the dark pink nub of flesh responded, growing stiff. The woman placed the tweezer device from tip to areola.

“Eight-point-nine millimeters,” the woman said.

Then she measured the width.

“Four-point-three.”

The tech winked.

“Hors d’ oeuvres,” the woman said. “And you have some nice ones. Now move along.”

Linda stepped away and Shelly took her place. The two exchanged nervous smiles.

Linda was measured in every conceivable way – waist, chest, length of legs from floor to crotch.  The circumference of her thighs and calves were measured. At each station she was palpitated and squeezed. Calipers were used to gauge her body fat content. The work was done quickly and expertly with all the figures being typed into computers. As a technician poked a gloved finger into her navel, she looked to her left and saw what was coming next. It was something she had dreaded.

“Sit on the table,” a male tech said when Linda’s turn came.

Trembling, she obeyed.

“Now lie back and spread your legs. Put your feet up on the table.”

Blushing and quivering, Linda did as instructed, opening herself to unfettered view, exposing herself like she had never done before. The tech held a small device, flicked a switch on it, and it began to buzz. She was to be shaved. The tech smiled.

“Don’t worry. It’ll grow back.”

Linda jerked a little and gasped when the man touched the shaver to her. The blades pinched a little as her dark blonde curls fell away. In less than a minute, she was smooth as a baby. Then the tech squirted some fluid from a tube onto his gloved fingers and began rubbing it onto the plump mound of her bare vulva. Linda gasped again as her lower lips moistened and opened. The tech examined her without any change in expression.  

He must see hundreds of these every day! she thought.  

Linda felt a gloved finger press against her slit.

Ohh!

Embarrassingly, it went into her surprisingly easily and probed about. Linda drew in a deep breath and held it. A second finger entered her and she closed her eyes tight. The tech moved his fingers up and down and side to side, stretching the wet cavity. Then he inserted a third finger. Linda thought her face would explode.

My, God – was he going to put his whole hand in her!

A modest girl, Linda had never gone beyond a little feeling up in the backseat of a car. Now she was fully invaded – her tenderest, most private parts stuffed beyond what she thought was possible. At last, the tech wrenched out his slippery hand, then used calipers to measure her genitals in every way possible, calling out the figures on her labia to a bespectacled woman at a computer. He grasped her clitoris and tugged on it.

Oh! OH!!

He tugged and rubbed until the hooded little nub stood stiffly erect – sticking out more than she thought possible, as if it had a mind of its own. Linda was mortified. Especially because Shelly, who would be next, watched the procedure intently, a small smile on her face. The tech applied the calipers to Linda’s painfully erect clit and called out a number.

“Next station,” he said.

Itching from the shaving and clit still painfully erect, Linda moved on. Two techs, a long-haired woman and a skinny black male were waiting for her.

“Bend over and grab your ankles,” the woman commanded.

Linda knew what was coming,  but complied.

“Spread your feet.”

Linda saw the woman slip on a fresh prophylactic glove and apply ointment to it. The male tech grasped her bottom cheeks and spread them wide. The touch of the oiled finger on her tiny aperture was cool – and then the woman pressed.

Ngggh!

Linda struggled to keep her balance as the intruding finger pushed. Her tight little sphincter did not give way easily, but the woman was insistent. Pressing. Finally, the little opening surrendered and the finger slid deep into her rectum.  

OHH!  OH GOD!!

Hot blood rushed to her face as the woman felt around inside her narrow passage.

“Smooth and no obstructions. That’s good,” the woman said and brought her finger out with a wet pop.

“Next station.”

The next station was for photographs. Linda, now feeling thoroughly violated, stood in front of a black backdrop where she was photographed in the nude – front, back, both sides, and a close-up of her face.

She knew what would happen at the final station would hurt. She walked shakily to a table where two PSB techs waited for her. A third sat behind a computer. The muscular male tech stood behind her, grasped her shoulders, and held her tightly. The other, a middle-aged woman, held a device that looked like a plastic gun.

“A little sting,” the woman warned.

Linda stood stiffly, every muscle taut. She trembled as the woman placed the tip of the device squarely between her breasts. The device made a little pop as it drove the tiny microchip through Linda’s skin and flesh and embedded it deep in her breastbone.

Ooh!

The woman put down the gun and picked up a hand scanner, which she hovered over Linda’s chest. It read all her vitals – including the data entered during the examination and the photos. It would be read at all future inspections – and even by cops at traffic stops. The main purpose was to track down women who tried to evade their conversion notices.

“Grade A-Choice. Congratulations. You’re good to go. Wait over there,” the tech said.

Linda joined the others from her group and watched as Shelly received her microchip. The girl squealed a little, but smiled when the tech also pronounced her Grade A- Choice. Then Shelly joined Linda, rubbing at the little red spot between her boobs.

“I’ve been probed, poked, and squeezed in every way possible!” she muttered.

Linda nodded. Her nipples and clit chafed. Her crotch was sore and inflamed.  Her sphincter was still stretched and ached.

Shelly exhaled deeply.

“At least it’s over – at least for five years.”

They waited until the last of the girls from 6B were processed, then they were led back to the narrow room. They dressed quickly and silently.

“Want to thank you ladies for your cooperation,” the matron said. “Now get on back to your bus.”

Linda and Shelly sat in silence during most of the trip home. The sun finally began to lower.  

Shelly leaned over.

“How are you, Linda?”

“Good as can be expected, I guess.”

“Yeah. Y’know, my clit is still raw from where that guy rubbed it.”

“Yeah.”

“He really knew what he was doing,” Shelly said and giggled.

Linda blushed.

Shelly reached over, took Linda’s hand, and placed it in her crotch.

“I really need to be finished off,” Shelly whispered.

Linda tried to jerk her hand away, but Shelly pressed it tight.

“C’mon, Linda. After all we’ve been though, how can this hurt?”

Shelly moved Linda’s hand up and down her crotch.

“Oh, yeah! I really need that!” she sighed.

Linda gave in and began massaging girl, who murmured softly. She heard other murmurs on the bus.

She didn’t resist when she felt Shelly’s hand insinuate itself into her own crotch. She opened her thighs, leaned back her head, and closed her eyes.

What a day it had been!

The bus grew dark as the sun set in the west.
Add a Comment:
 
:iconkaaji9:
KaaJi9 Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2018
In the legacy of Dolcett. 
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:iconxnetghost:
XNetGhost Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2018
This is a good introduction for what will come. ;-D
Reply
:icondecaplover1960:
decaplover1960 Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2018  Hobbyist Artist
Awesome! Do you have stories of them being prepped for meat sale? I'd love to read if you do!
Reply
:iconzrh777:
ZRH777 Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2018
More will come.
Reply
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