u/Windspirit2025

Mindy was seriously furious at that rider, anxious for Andrea, and annoyed by the world in general. These were good ponies, but Andrea was short of getting her third and last strike.

She had a lot of promise, and she knew Melissa had fallen for her eyes and tits and would want to claim her if she passed the tests. She needed to make sure Andrea didn’t self-sabotage again. They had files on everyone. Mindy knew how Andrea had blown university. But she would make a good pony… in time and with stricter control.

She had a brief chat with the director about the incident. It was now up to him to decide what happened to Clara. She would just throw her out of the Farm, not even giving her the chance to become a pony instead. She was not the right fit for that, but it wasn’t her decision. Worse, sometimes money spoke louder than common sense.

It should not, but in the end, it always did, one way or another.

When Mindy returned to the meadow behind the stables, she saw the ponies lying on the grass together, Maria in their midst. Melissa watched over them. At least she could depend on her to ensure the ponies were fine. In time, Melissa would take over Mindy’s role when Mindy retired — if she passed the test. She was clever but not good at learning from books.

Mindy needed to assess how deep the damage from that accident had gone. She didn’t think it went too deep, but the ponies needed to know that they could 1000% depend on their riders to keep them safe. That was important. As much as they needed to lose their free will, it was important that they also remained a human, just as a pony. Nobody wanted a mindless drone; they needed to keep their personalities but then needed to trust their riders unconditionally.

They needed to trust their riders even as they were subjected to fucking, whipping and anything else. They could baulk, they could run, they could deny the riders, but they needed to trust them. That was the point.

“Ponies. There still needs to be punishment meted out for speaking,” she said, leaning on the fence next to Melissa.

Maria moved first. Getting up without arms had become easier, but still, it took a bit of time. Andrea followed, and then the other two.

Maria approached her, turning her head this way and that. Mindy clucked softly to help her find her. She came and put her head against her, and Mindy petted her.

“Good filly. Everything will be all right.”

Andrea arrived and stood next to Maria, flank to flank, showing her support and accepting what would come. “You too, Andrea. Good pony.”

The rest of the ponies came, too. Mindy was relieved, no real lasting damage.

Andrea knew that she might get punished too; she had spoken. So she would accept whatever would come. She didn’t want to end her life in a slum brothel, even if it meant she would have to marry a woman. She could sense Melissa’s perfume and knew she was there.

For Maria, it was fair. She had broken the rules. The easy rules that had been set. But still, she had broken them, and she felt ashamed. Her life here was easy compared with her life before. So much easier. She did not have to fear being raped, killed, or maimed. Sure, she was required to have sex here and be taken whenever a rider desired her, but she had chosen this, knowing full well what it meant. She didn’t have to scramble for food; she was hand-fed three times a day. She didn’t need to fight for a spot in the shower and some dripping stream of tepid water; she was washed with sweet-smelling soap and cared for. And still, she had broken the rules. Punishment was fair.

As George arrived, he pushed himself in front of Maria and Andrea, protecting them and snorting, signalling that he would take their punishment. Julia stepped up next to him.

“OK. Good Colt. Wanting to protect your herd. You have come a long way.” And she petted his muscly chest. “You too, Julia. You have been pulling the heavy plough all by yourself and taking the fucking lessons very well.” She said as she caressed Julia’s boobs. “But rules are rules. A rider keeps his word. You need to depend on our word. Andrea and Maria, you will be caned for speaking. Maria, understand this. Not for running away, for speaking. The rider who was supposed to keep you safe has been dismissed. She failed at her task.”

That was something Maria hadn’t known. She had been too much in her own world to hear Mindy talk to the riders. She thought she was punished for running away. Mindy’s words meant much more to her than she would ever know. They bound her more tightly to this life as a pony. A rider had to take care of their pony, and if they failed, there were consequences for them too. It filled her with a completely different outlook on her future life.

Mindy looked at them; Maria stood tall and nodded. Andrea pushed forward between Julia and George and nodded too. Both accepted what had to be done. Knowing they had broken the rules and accepting the consequences.

“Good ponies. You are brave, and you accept your punishment.” Mindy caressed Andrea’s cheek and then took her bridle. “You’re first. Come.”

“I’ll do her. You can do Maria,” Melissa said, taking Andrea’s bridle from Mindy.

Mindy only rolled her eyes and shook her head, but let go. She had so fallen for that pony that it wasn’t even funny anymore. But, well… twenty years ago, it had been her. That colt, her husband now, that hadn’t gotten out of her mind. So, she had branded and married him.

“Come, Andrea, it is time I make you cry for a change.” And she guided Andrea to the side. Andrea followed, better than a dirty chain.

“You are going to stand and take the cane. Don’t move. You can cry and shout as much as you want. I actually like to hear it. Sorry but I’m just made that way.”

Melissa took a cane from Mindy and smacked Andrea’s arse hard, a glint of excitement on her face. Andrea cried out with the impact and from the pain she had not yet known. This was worse than the whip, much worse. But she had to endure it. Stand and take it. She could do that. She bit down on her bit as the cane bit into her butt cheeks and then let out a cry of pain.

“I love hearing you cry like that.” And she hit her again. Andrea was lost in the pain after the first strokes, only trying to keep standing. Her knees were shaking. Then it was over, and Melissa hugged her from behind. Her hands were on her tits, caressing her and holding her close. “Well done, my pony. You did so well. I’m totally wet from your cries, are you? No? Oh well, you will learn to like it. You will.” Melissa whispered into her ear while caressing her body.

Maria was screaming in pain, too, as Mindy caned her, but she took it. She had deserved it; the pain was intense, and it was hard to take it, and she knew she would feel that for some days to come. But when Mindy cuddled her afterwards, she felt better. “That was well done, too. Good pony. Good filly. Oh, look, you two turned the colt on. He is all stiff and throbbing.”

Melissa had taken Andrea into a proper embrace, cuddling her, letting her sob and talking to her. More and more, Andrea let herself sink into the hold, into the warmth and the caressing hands. She could accept this. It wasn’t so bad.

Julia was a bit jealous about the attention that Andrea got from Melissa. She wanted to be cuddled too. She stomped hard with her hooves. Melissa chuckled. “Come here, Julia. Come. Here, you get some cuddles, too.” And Julia moved toward her and pushed her head against Melissa and Andrea.

Mindy said, “You want some cuddles too, George? I know you are all excited, but you can’t have a filly. Here, have a treat instead. You too, Maria, you’re a good pony.”

Maria started crying, too, and Mindy cuddled and held her. “It’s all good. You are doing well. You will be a good pony.”

In the programme, everyone had at least two breakdowns. The first occurs when they realise their old life is over, and the second when they finally accept being a pony. Some had more than two, but there are usually two major ones. The second requires care, whereas the first requires pain.

Mindy let them all rest a bit more on the grass in the sun. Normally, this would come later in the training, but today, it did the herd good and stabilised them as ponies. That was all that was required. It was Mindy’s job to figure out how to stabilise their pony identity.

As the sun went down, the whole herd grew more relaxed, and Mindy was happy that many positives had come out of this accident. There had been incidents in the past that had not worked out so well. Producing skittish or even unstable ponies.

“OK, it’s time for evening training. Who wants to be first?” Julia stomped with her hooves. She would go first.

Mindy and Melissa guided them back to the main stables, where the other riders waited. One by one, they took their charges to evening training.

Andrea was handed back to the rider she had started the day with. Melissa gave her a affectional slap on her butt. “Have fun and learn to be a good pony. I'll see you in the next few days.”

And with that, they were back into the rhythm of the days. Being touched, being fucked by machines, by riders, fed, washed, cared for, pulling the plough, walking across ever more challenging terrain.

The small differences that happened were what kept the days apart for the ponies and made them special. Such as when the dildos in their belts were upgraded or when they moved on from machines fucking them to riders, teaching them how to stand and what noises to make and so on.

But there were other moments, too.

“Hey, my colt, did you miss me?” George heard one morning and then felt strong hands on him. He wanted to get away, fight. But the hands were stronger, holding him, and he relaxed into them, into the strong embrace that engulfed him.

“I know you need the fight, and I like you fighting and giving in. Come let me play with your balls and your nice thick dick while you eat. Did you notice it got more girth? The vacuum is working nicely. Make you all hard, and if you are a good colt, I will fuck you tonight, slow and deep and make you cum. Would you want that?” George shook his head, stomping his hooves. No, he did not want this.

George felt the strong hand on his shoulders and then a kiss-bite in his neck that sent an electric current through his body directly into his balls and dick. Heny chucked into his ear while kissing his neck. “For someone who doesn’t want it, you get hard very fast. But that’s ok, I understand. I will fight you down. Let’s get your day started.”

George was again confused by his body's reaction. Confusion was somehow the only constant he often felt when his old life collided with being a pony. At least this rider had the strength to handle him, and he liked that. It was a man he could trust. A man who cared about him.

In the evening, Henry, his rider, made love to him. He was strong but still caring and emotional. George lost himself in that feeling of being handled, taken and cared for at the same time. Henry knew what he was doing. George had never been handled like that. He had always been the active one, never the passive one. Especially because Henry gave him something George had never given anyone else. Henry made him cum at the same time as he came himself in his arse, and it felt so good.

George liked it more than he would like to admit to himself. Not the fucking in his arse that wasn’t bad, but didn’t turn him on; however, the lovemaking did. But more importantly, Henry stayed with him for longer, even after lights out, just caressing him. Not saying a word, just stroking his body. Just staying with him until he fell asleep.

Julia was greeted by the older man again, who had first taken her, and she liked him. His voice was low, and his beard did funny things to her when he put his head between her tits. She hoped he would claim her, so she made sure to give him her very best. He made her pull the heavy plough by herself, and she did as best as she possibly could.

“You are getting strong. I can’t wait to put you in front of a sulky and let you race. Would you like that?” Her head came up. She had always thought she would become one of these show ponies that you saw on TV from time to time, but a race pony? Maybe something to think about. She had found stability and purpose in pulling that plough, getting her legs dirty and her body sweaty. Showing everyone that she was not only some pretty pony who didn’t want to get dirty. She also liked to be fucked in the arse by male riders. Liked it when they unloaded deep in her. It was so un-show-pony-like, so dirty and forbidden. Especially if they made her cum while they pumped their load into her.

Maria sensed that there were multiple riders who were interested in her. She could feel that, but she was not sure what to do about it. She was not the one who chose, so she doubled her efforts whenever one of those riders looked after her.

At some stage, it changed again. Riders changed at midday and then later each meal. The ponies became used to being handled and accepted whatever hand took their bridle. Sure, each of them had their favourite rider or riders, but it wasn’t their choice.

But today started very differently. After feeding, Mindy announced. “Take the lenses out and the normal blinkers on.” And one by one, the lenses were removed. They had been blinded for a long time. Time had stopped being important to them, and no pony knew the day or even the month they were in, nor did they really care. After this long time, it was overwhelming to see again. The lenses let light through, so they had not lost anything, but there was so much more input now.

“Hi. I like your real eyes much better.” Said Melissa and then attached real blinkers to Andrea’s bridle.

Andrea hadn’t paid much attention to how Melissa looked before, but now she did. Her long blonde hair was tucked into a bun under her riding helmet, her figure was womanly, and she stood just a head shorter than Andrea. Her smile was a little crooked but amused.

“Like what you see?” She asked shyly, and Andrea nodded her head and stomped once. Of all the riders, she showed her the most care and attention.

Melissa’s eyes lit up. “Good. Listen. You need to trust me completely now. It’s important.” Now her eyes pleaded with her. “Please don’t fuck this up.”

Melissa was nervous. She had laid claim to Andrea, given that she passed the test to come. Melissa knew how Andrea had failed so spectacularly before; it had been the talk of the whole society. She didn’t want that for them. Andrea would be the pony she would take home and marry.

She knew it would still be a long road for them. Branding her, making Andrea love her and eventually breeding her. Melissa took a deep breath and petted Andrea. Only Andrea could now destroy that future.

George looked into Henry’s eyes, and as he did, he knew. Henry would claim him. George had given up the fight. He had given up pretending he did not care. Henry cared for him, and George trusted him. That was all that mattered now. No words were said as Henry attached the normal blinkers to his bridle.

The first thing Julia saw was the full beard of her rider, and she was happy to see him. “Today is special. Be the best pony you can be.” She nodded, and he nodded, too, smiling.

For Maria, it was the older woman, one of the three riders who had shown her the most attention. “You need to be on your best behaviour today.” Maria blew out and put her shoulders back, standing straight.

All of them were washed and taken together to the mounting chair again. They had lost all fear of the chair; they just didn’t like it. It had been hard to be fucked by the machines, especially the last days when they all had to endure large dildos in their holes and the hardest deep-throat training they had had. But that lay behind them now.

But today, they were trimmed and shaved. Landing strips and clean arseholes for everyone. In George’s case, his balls and shaft were shaved clean and oiled.

“You will get your final hairstyle and then laser hair removal from your owner if and when you are claimed, based on whatever he or she decides you should look like.”

Then they were oiled, made pretty and dressed in shining new bridles and body harnesses. Their arms were folded behind their backs and secured there, just like they had seen on Julia when she arrived. The dildo belts that had been their constant companion for a long time were not attached. It felt a bit strange to be empty like that but also easier to walk.

“Now you look like true ponies…. let’s see if you are. We start with the lead. Melissa, take Andrea.”

All the ponies could sense that today was special and that something was about to happen. They became a bit skittish.

Melissa clipped a lead into Andrea’s bridle and guided her out of the stable, over the courtyard and behind the big house, to an arena that was set up with obstacles.

All the other riders, as well as the stable hands, sat in the stands around the arena. In front of one side sat three riders at a table, four long horsetails in front of them.

Evaluation time. Andrea breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. “Don’t be nervous, Andrea. Just trust me and do what you have been doing for the last few weeks. Be the pony you are. Show them. “Melissa's voice became soft, “Show me.“

She swallowed hard, but the picture of a dirty chain leading from her neck to an even dirtier wall would not get out of her mind. She had worked hard, real hard, not to end up with the last option.

Melissa tugged at her bridle. “Breathe. Everything will be good. You are a pony. Just be a pony and trust me.”

She would pass the test, she would be branded, she would marry and whatever happened after that.

They entered the arena, and Melissa announced Andrea, and then they were off. Walking and even, at one stage, running along the parcours . She jumped when she was told to. She ducked when she was told to. The obstacles on the parcours were easy, but it was harder than she thought. With her eyes back, she needed to really let go and trust, not let her brain override what her rider told her to do, not anticipate, not plan, just follow.

Then the obstacles became scary, really scary. Due to the blinkers, she couldn’t see what was to her left or right and not much of what was ahead of her. But she understood what this was. It was the ultimate test of free will against dependence and obedience. She let go, let Melissa take her reins, and followed her lead. Trusting her with her life.

The first real scary obstacle was a small wooden log over red-hot coals, so hot she could feel the heat radiating off them. She didn’t even look down; she had walked across this kind of obstacle before, many times. Now, her eyes told her to be afraid, but she needed to trust her rider, not her eyes.

She set her hooves on the wood, fixed her eyes on some point far ahead, and walked.

A running chainsaw at neck level had to be ducked under, just as she had ducked many times under a branch before. The only difference was that it was loud and looked scary.

A narrow, winding corridor of razor-sharp barbed wire had to be walked like the path through the brambles. It only looked scarier. Let Melissa care about that.

Then, they came to a corridor where canes and whips swung from mechanical arms. This would hurt, this would really hurt.

Melissa let her bridle go. “Stay,” she commanded and then walked around the obstacle to the other side.

“Come to me, pony.” She said, and Andrea stepped into the maelstrom of canes and whips and walked through it. She bit her bit hard, grunting with each impact of the canes and whips, and kept walking at the same pace as she had before until she reached her rider. She was in tears when she finally reached Melissa.

Melissa looked very pleased as she took Andrea’s bridle and walked her to the judges.

“Andrea. 9, 9.5 and 10 for a total of 9.5. Pass.”

Melissa jumped up and down, shouting excitedly. “9.5? Wow. That’s amazing, Andrea. You are a pony now. A true pony.”

One of the judges handed Melissa one of the horsetails. It had a butt plug on it as well as a buckle for her harness.

“Clear the arena for the next contestant,” one of the judges announced, and Melissa guided them back to the stables to her stall, a broad smile on her face.

Andrea was not sure what had happened. Was 9.5 a lot? But they had said ‘Pass’. So she had passed, she had finished something? She had succeeded in something? There had been applause. Andrea was hurting, but she was also elated. Finally, she started shaking and crying.

“Come here. I hold you. You have been amazing. Fearless and walking proud.” Andrea stepped into Melissa’s arms and put her head on her shoulder, crying big pony tears.

“Just cry. Let it go. It’s all right. You made it. You are a pony. Now you can be trained properly… and claimed.”

Andrea was still sobbing. She wouldn’t end up at the end of the filthy chain.

Maria was next, and she let go as much as possible, but it was hard. She had always been someone who wanted and needed to control everything around her. She had lost this over the last weeks and had given in to be led, but with her eyes back, it was hard.

Maria almost refused at the first scary obstacle, the log over the coals, but her rider pulled her along, and after the first few steps of being unsure and overthinking it, she blew out and just closed her eyes and then it worked. She kept her eyes closed until she heard her rider say ‘Stay’ and saw the corridor of pain ahead of her. Her rider awaited her at the other end. She gulped. She knew how much this would hurt.

“Come to me, pony,” her rider said, and after taking a deep breath, she hurried through the punishment as fast as she could.

“Maria. 8, 8, 8.5, for a total of 8.1. Pass.” Her rider was given a horsetail, and they moved back to the stalls.

“You did very well, Maria. I’m proud of you. You are a good pony.” Her rider said, and she felt like the Queen of the world even as her body hurt from the last obstacle.

George was next, and he was guided by Henry. He felt like a total idiot in front of all these people. Made to prance around like that. Then they hit the real obstacles, and he finally understood. He let go of his will and his embarrassment and let Henry guide him. The coals were all right, but the chainsaw freaked him out, and he almost defied Henry. He had always been tall, taller than everyone else, and had grown up constantly banging his head. He had to duck really deep to clear this obstacle.

Henry whispered, almost inaudible, “Breathe, trust.” And George closed his eyes and followed Henry’s lead as a last tear left his eye. He was nothing but a pony now, trusting his rider absolutely. His pride did not matter. His rider’s lead mattered.

The punishment corridor was not that hard; he could take it. It hurt, hurt like hell, but he could take it. What was hard was walking towards his rider, the person who would likely claim him and make him his pony. Walking through the pain to him meant he accepted him as his rider. That was hard.

“George. 6.5, 7, 7.5 for a total of 6.8. Pass”

Henry was given a horsetail and rubbed George’s shoulder, hard and affectionate. “That was acceptable. You could have been much better. We’ll get there. But you passed. That counts.”

Last was Julia, guided by the rider with the beard. As she came to the arena, she was fascinated and excited. This was what she had always dreamed about.

The obstacles were fun, and she performed at her best, with her head held high, legs long, and well-articulated movement. Then they hit the scary obstacles, and it was like a punch to her stomach. This wasn’t fun anymore; it was deadly serious. These obstacles could injure or even kill her. She started shaking and tossed her head. The last weeks had been hard and full of change. She had lost her childish ideas under the whip and the fucking machines. Now, she needed to prove that she had grown up.

tightened her core as she had done with the plough and walked on. The last obstacle was the hardest for her. She had to do it alone, walk into pain alone. Everywhere she had been last week, there had been a rider or her lead mare, someone she could trust. Now, she needed to walk into and through pain alone.

“Come to me pony.” Yes, she was a pony, and yes, she would come, and she stepped into the pain, trying to keep her posture even as her body was tormented. She hurried through it as much as possible.

She was crying hard and a sobbing mess when she finally reached her rider.

“Julia. 9, 9, 9. For a total of 9. Pass”

Julia was sobbing but elated, a 9. She had scored a 9, which was extremely good. She hurt, real hurt. Her body had red stripes and some deep lacerations, but she had passed the pony test. She was now a real pony, ready to be claimed and start her real life. Finally.

COMMENT: This is JUST a story. Just FYI, IRL this would be horrible and nothing I would support.
Also, you have asked for it :) I'm thinking I'll write a marriage one next...maybe...

Over the last week, I have been able to become more open and accepting of the Lord's blessing.

My legs stayed open more easily, giving the Adjuster access to cleanse my sins from my cunt. The Adjuster still hurt my cunt, but that was what it needed to do. Purging sins as a woman was only possible by the pain the Lord gives us through men.

My mother was very proud of me opening up more and more, crying less and accepting the pain as the blessing it should be.

Today was Restday. After 9 days of work, the 10th was the Lord's day. The day He and men rested. On this day, women had to serve their men and the Lord. That day, the whole community went to church to worship the Lord and receive His blessing. Something I was looking forward to.

As a woman, I was now finally allowed to sit with the adults inside Church. In the unmarried section, but inside. Children didn’t go to church; they went to Teaching.

They learned the Cunt’s Prayer and all the other prayers and rituals; they read the Lord’s words and understood their roles in the community that the Lord had assigned to them.

This morning, my mother told me to fetch the Adjuster for the first time, not only to hang it back up. I was excited to be allowed to do that.

I kissed the Adjuster devoutly, knowing it would soon purge my sins from my cunt, and looking forward to its blessing. Then I handed it proudly to my father.

Father slapped me hard in the face. “Do not blaspheme the Lord. The Morning Penance is not a thing to be proud of. You are a sinful woman; you should not be proud of this. The Lord gives you pain because you deserve it.”

I swallowed hard, hy cheek hurt; he had slapped me hard. I nodded and looked to the floor. “Yes father. This Cunt is sorry. Please purge this sin from me.”

“Lay down,” he commanded, taking the Adjuster from my hand.

He used the Adjuster extra hard on me today. I had deserved it.

I cried as the Adjuster made my cunt hurt like it hadn’t hurt before. After Mother and I had received our Morning Penance, we made breakfast.

Mother pulled me aside in the kitchen. She was upset.

“How could you be such a proud little cunt. The Lord's blessing is not something to be proud of. Not something to enjoy.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. Really, I am. I was just so …” I almost had said proud, “…to be allowed to get the Adjuster…it made me feel married.”

Mother gave me a cold stare, but it modified into a nod. “I understand. But do not do this ever again. Now hike up your skirts.”

I followed her order without fail. “Turn around, bend forward. Hold still. Don’t cry. Endure. This is your punishment.”

I gulped. Mother pulled a dried chilli from the garland against the window. I knew what was coming and my legs shivered with fear, but I turned around and bent forward. Mother inserted the chilli into my butthole, and the burning started.

I bit my lip and endured. I let my skirts fall again and turned around to Mother while my butthole was burning like the Devil's own Hell. Mother studied me for a while, and I held it together. My legs trembled under my skirts and my fists clenched.

“Good. Now make breakfast for your father and don’t let him notice it.” Mother said and I did as asked. My butthole was in agony, my cunt hurt from the bleeding of the Adjuster. But I was a woman; a woman had to endure pain as it was bestowed by the Lord to punish us for the sin of being born a woman.

Before we served breakfast, Mother allowed me to remove the chilli, but the burning didn’t stop. It would be a while, and it would hurt. I held it together. Trying to keep my suffering to myself.

Women should suffer in silence, as the Lord said. “Women are the Sin of this world. Their pain is their purpose. Their suffering is their salvation. Their suffering is theirs only.”

After breakfast, Father took Mother to their room so Father could relieve himself in her. He even bestowed a blessing upon her by allowing her to receive the Light of the Lord. I did not know what the Light was, but something that women could receive if their man allowed it.

Something that made my mother shout out loudly, blessing the Lord, something that made her happy and even smile. Mother didn’t get it often, but Father always bestowed it onto her on a Restday.

By midday we went to Church together. Mother had laid out the new adult dress I would wear to church. It was beautiful. Father wore his Restday clothes, letting his dick and balls show freely and proudly. Men had nothing to hide from the Lord; they were his prime creation.

I tried to stifel how proud I felt. I my new dress I would look like any of the other women. It was a white plain cotton dress, but not a girl's one, an adult one.

The fabric pushed my still small, but growing breasts out and up. Plainly visible for everyone to see what I was, a sinful woman. I looked just like my mother's, except that I didn’t had the marriage ring through my left nipple, making me as unmarried.

The skirt was split, showing off my bald cunt, which was red from the Morning Penance, showing everyone what a sinful cunt I had.

An adult woman should not hide her sin from the Lord in his own house or from the community. The same of being a woman could and should not be hid.

We entered the church. I had seen the inside as part of the Teaching. We had been shown where everyone sat. The unmarried women sat to the left, the married couples in the middle and the unmarried men on the right. I made my way to the other unmarried women, most of whom I knew and were my friends.

We nodded to each other. Smiling would be sinful. We were here to worship the Lord, not to gossip or enjoy ourselves. That would be after church.

One of my friends patted the seat next to her, and I sat down. The seats for unmarried women were different from those for married women.

I looked over to my mother as she knelt down in front of my father's chair. Mother bit her lip as the large metal staff on the floor entered her cunt, connecting her to the Lord. I had never seen it before but knew how this should be done. The staff was long and thick. I could not imagine how that staff fit into her. But it did. Finally, Mother sat down fully; the whole staff had disappeared into her. Mother put her hands behind her back in the position of prayer and leaned forward. My father put his dick into her mouth and smiled as he caressed her cheek affectionately.

The unmarried men sat on the other side of the married couples. Each presented their Lord's proof of their manhood clearly visible. I could only see them coming in with thier stiff dicks proudly pointing the way. The Lord showed off his pride in them and I was fascinated. So many sizes. My friend boxed me, not to stare. I lowered my eyes. I was a filthy cunt, even after the Morning Penance.

But I hoped one of them would want me to make me his wife and bless me with his dick.

I sat down. The unmarried seat was shaped like a roof and finished in metal on the top where my cunt would be resting on. The cold metal of the inverted V touched my cunt, and I shivered. I had to adjust my cunt lips to be even on each side of the metal as I sat down.

My weight pressed my cunt into the metal. It hurt. My friend look told me I would get used to it in time. I lifted my legs into the leg holder behind me and put my hands behind my back in the woman’s prayer position. My full weight was now balanced on my cunt that felt like it would split my cunt apart. Without my legs to hold me up, the metal V wedge pressed painfully and deeply into me. I had to bite my lip and endure in silence as all unmarried women next to me had to.

Some had tears in their eyes, some breathed shallowly. Each of them maintained their balance and, from time to time, shifted around. None of them dared to set a foot down, to relieve their hurting cunts from the pressure of their sinful womenly bodies. "Women should feel the weight of their Sin before marriage claims them." it said in the Lords book.

One of the married couples came forward to the front of the church. Fully naked, then men showing his erect dick as the Proof of the Lord’s might, while the woman crawled next to him. They would lead the service this Restday. I remember the RestDay my parents had been prayer leaders. Mother had been so proud.

As they reached the centre stage, they turned around and bowed to the community. “This is the day of the Lord. His day. We bless him.” Then the man said.

The community repeated the words as required. The married women spoke around their husbands' dick. It was a skill learned early on using wood. Only married women were allowed to make direct contact with their husband’s proof of the Lord's might. I could not wait to be married and feel my Lord's proof throught my husband in me. To have children. To have my husband guide me through the Morning Penance.

The prayer leader started to put his wife into the chains that would stretch her out into the symbol of the Lord. The X.

He fastened the chains on her ankles and wrists and then used the pulleys to stretch her out into the air for all the community to see.

“Witness the Lord’s sign carved in flesh.” He said as his wife grunted in pain with the stretch. I had never seen the Lord’s sign like that, and it made clear why women were needed. Their sin made salvation possible; women suffered so men could come closer to the Lord.

The prayer leader took a red leather whip that lay next to the Lord's book and stood behind his wife.

“Women are Sin.” He said, and the whip hit his wife's back.

I shouted out as well, as did all the women in the congregation. The metal between my cunt lips gave me a jolt. An electric jolt of the Lord’s power directly between my cunt lips. We were made to suffer as much as the woman on stage.

I had been surprised and had shouted, but every other woman had shouted "Amen" as it was required. I had been too surprised. I looked over to my mother, kneeling and with my father's dick in her mouth. Her look told me she wasn’t pleased with my performance. I had to do better, and so I willed myself to do so when the next jolt came. The metal staff deep inside of her must hurt her too. "Women that are married, must know the depth of their sin." it said in the book of the Lord.

“Men are the Lord’s tool to purge women from their sin.” The prayer leader said, and all the men from the congregation answered. “We are ready to fulfil our duty”

“Women are to suffer in silence, except when their suffering amuses the Lord.” The prayer leader said, and the whip hit his wife's breasts and his wife screamed.

As the electric jolt ran through my cunt, I screamed the required ‘Amen’.

Today my suffering was for the Lord’s enjoyment. Tears ran down my face. My cunt hurt so much from being pressed into the metal edge and then when the Lord’s jolt came. I was suffering for him. Doing what I had been born for.

I could see my mother suffering too, but she had my father's dick to give her strength. I had to sit and endure, where as Mother was allowed to move the staff in her. I envied her. The service went on, and the agony of my body increased with time. My own weight hurt me. Each little wiggle hurt me. Each jolt hurt me. It was all my own sinful being that hurt me.

My throat was dry from shouting the blessing, but I was not the only one. All the unmarried women suffered with me, and that gave me strength.

The prayer leader's wife’s whole body was whipped: her breasts, her cunt, her arse, her back, her legs. She had red welts all over her, and new ones were added. The woman on stage suffered. All the women suffered with her. I saw my mother's tears. The staff in her must put the Lord's jolt deep into her.

But that’s what our purpose as women was. Women had to suffer. The Lord had said. “I create Men a Women. A tool for his pleasure and mine. A tool that is to suffer. A tool that is to be used.”

With the last whip hit, the woman on stage let her head hang. She was more or less unconscious. That was the sign for the end of Church. She had suffered long and hard, Her Husband could be proud of her.

He was, it was visible. Proudly, the prayer leader announced. “This woman has suffered for the Lord. She has endured well. She has pleased the Lord.” He used the whip a last time hard between her legs. She didn't even grunted or moved. The service was over.

“She has pleased us,” the men in the congregation replied.

All the married men took their dicks out of their wives’ mouths and fisted them hard. I had never seen anything like it. After a short moment, they grunted and white fluid erupted from their dicks onto their wives' faces.

So this is how that happened. I had seen my mother after church with the white fluid on her face, proudly displaying it.

I had wondered how the Lord's blessing was bestowed onto women through the men.

I glanced over to the unmarried men. Their fluid was collected in one large cup. After the cup was filled. The prayer leader collected it and came to us, unmarried women.

“Receive the Lord's essence.” He said to the first unmarried woman. She bowed her head and then drank from the cup. Then she said. “I have been given my Lord’s essence. Praise the Lord.”

When it was my turn, I drank, and it tasted a bit salty and weird, but it was the Lord’s essence, so I swallowed. I could see my parents' pride. I had received my first-ever Lord’s essence.

The prayer leader removed his wife from the chains, and with that, the service was finished. We all stood up and went outside the church.

I had trouble walking as most other unmarried women had. The metal-lined V had hurt our cunts a lot.

“It will get better. I cried the first time through the whole service. Now I can take it, but it still hurts. You will feel the Lords mercy for some days.” My friend said as we walked outside.

The married women walked with their arms locked through their husbands’, proudly showing off their husbands’ blessing on their faces.

Some women were shamed by the minimal fluid on their faces, while others, almost drenched, walked tall and proud.

Mother had a good amount and was happy. Then men walked with their dicks hanging limp. Showing that they had been satisfied by the suffering of the women.

Everyone started to chat with each other. This was the part of the church that was social, where people met people. Where men discussed trade and women gossiped.

I came over to my parents. My father put his hand on my head. “I bless you, my daughter. You suffered well. You pleased the Lord.” I inclined my head as was proper.

“Thank you, Father. I will do better. I promise.” My

Mother smiled at me and whispered. “It's ok. My first time wasn't easy either. Tonight I give you the cream to make it better. A proper cunt must not only suffer but heal, so it can suffer again.”

“Thank you, mother.” We stayed and talked, and sometimes an unmarried man would come up and talk to Father.

Father asked him questions, and once he allowed a young man to talk to me. It was strange but exciting. The young man asked me questions about my cooking and my skills would bring to a marriage. I answered truthfully, keeping my eyes lowered, which gave me a good look of his dick. It was strong and thick. A drop of the Lord's essence still hang on it.

After some more questions the young man put his hand between my cunt lips, feeling me. I looked panicked at Mother, but she just smiled and nodded. The young man withdrew his fingers and sniffed at them, then nodded and went back to my father. They kept on talking.

Mother came to me. “He seems to like you. Let's see. Maybe he will ask for your cunt in marriage, next harvest.” The she whispered. "He has a strong dick, it will be a blessing to you."

A smile formed on my lips. Married.

Silvia woke up and instantly wished she hadn’t. Her head throbbed like a jackhammer. She had never drunk so much in her life. Ever.

Last night was a bit of a blur. They had piled into Melissa’s car—she’d said she didn’t want to drink—and Helena had directed them to one of the trendy riverside bars.

The place had been stylish and sleek, with dim lighting and a quiet hum of conversation. Silvia felt out of place in her everyday clothes, nothing fancy, but neither were the others. Helena, of course, didn’t seem to care.

“You guys get us a round. I’ll grab us a table,” she’d said with a grin.

Alexandra had marched straight to the beleaguered bartender. The bartender practically tripped over himself to serve her, wagging an invisible tail like an eager dog. Alexandra somehow had that effect; it was strange, but fun. Moments later, Silvia and Melissa were weighed down with an assortment of cocktails and shots, while Alexandra carried only her long drink.

“Get used to it, Silvi,” Melissa had said, her tone amused. “As long as you’re not accredited, you’re worth nothing.”

“When do you get your accreditation?” Silvia had asked.

“Hopefully soon. We need 3 teams,” Alexandra had replied, taking a sip casually, while Silvia and Melissa tried not to spill the load of drinks they carried.

Melissa rolled her eyes. “I’m still studying for it. It’s not an easy test. You’ve got a practical and a theoretical section. You have to show you can do the work—perfectly.”

“You have to slaughter someone for your exam?” Silvia had asked, horrified.

“No! Absolutely not! That would be wrong on so many levels.” Melissa had laughed, then added, “I have to demonstrate that I could and showcase different techniques. You are not allowed to take a life before you can demonstrate that you can do it properly and as humanely as possible. But they don’t make it easy. Last year, someone had to debone an entire side of ribs while keeping the skin intact for tanning. It’s a nightmare of precision and patience.”

Silvia had tried to picture it but couldn’t quite wrap her head around the skill it would take.

“Took you long enough!” Helena had called, grinning as she waved them over to the table she’d snagged.

“To Silvia. My new assistant. Live large and bold!”

“Live large and bold!” shouted the others, and they downed the shot.

“OK, that’s it for me,” said Melissa, but it wasn’t. They were just getting started.

They drank, they danced, drank more, and had some finger food. Alexandra had somehow drawn in two chicks out of nowhere, and she was fooling around with them openly. Melissa had passed out and was snoring on the table. Helena was doing karaoke, or something that resembled singing. And Silvia was snogging that guy in the corner. His hands were down her jeans, her tongue deep in his mouth. She wanted to fuck, she needed to fuck. She needed to feel alive. She had never experienced such a need to fuck.

Silvia sat up in the big bed. The brightness irritated her, and her head hurt like nothing else. It took her a moment to realise she wasn’t even in her own bed, or even her own house, for that matter. She was in an apartment overlooking the city. She blinked against the brightness of the morning sun, and her brain felt like it was filled with jam. There was a warm body next to her, buried under the covers. Yeah, that’s right, she had made out with that guy, needing to fuck. Apparently, they had. Silvia was naked under the covers. Hmm. She couldn’t remember much, but her pussy and, to her surprise, her butthole felt a bit used.

Sucks. She had been too drunk to remember much. Her brain had stored some weird pictures that made no sense. Still, worth it. She felt alive, even if her head hurt.

“Oh, hi, you’re up. Headache tablet?” asked a naked, very well-built man entering the room. He was probably around 30, but he did look good enough for her taste. Silvia wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that was the same guy she had made out with. It didn’t matter. She had needed to get laid so desperately.

“Please.” Her voice was as sore as her head felt. Luckily, it was Saturday, and she didn’t need to go to work. That stopped her. The bitches had done it on purpose on a Friday. The fuck!

She shuddered as she thought about her near-death experience again. It had been that; she had given in, expecting to die, ready to die. Maybe that’s why she wanted sex. Maybe.

She looked at the naked guy who came around the bed to her and then to the covered body next to her. Hold on a second!

She pulled back the blanket, and a gorgeous, voluptuous blonde protested the intrusion and turned around to cuddle into her and keep on sleeping. Her boobs pressed into her arms, and her leg lay over hers.

That was not fair. She didn’t remember anything!

The man sat on her side of the bed and handed her a glass of water where a life-saving tablet was dissolving.

She drank it fully and let herself sink back onto the bed. The naked man slipped into the bed beside her and started to stroke her body. Yes, that would work for her too.

That led to a lot more and even woke up the blonde, who was eager to join.

This time, she made sure she remembered everything they did. Her near-death experience had made her aware that she had to live. Live large and bold. She would and did. To her surprise, she really liked anal. She felt so owned as the guy fucked her butt while she ate out the blonde.

She had sent her dad a message that she was OK and would be home later. No need to worry him.

They played a bit more, but slowly, they wound down, exhausted. Silvia left them in the afternoon and made her way back to the facility to pick up her car. She didn’t even know their names, nor did they know hers. She had never done anything like that before, but she felt so alive.

She touched the Shut... up! sticker. “Hi, Nancy. Guess what I just did? You would be so proud of me,” she said softly, starting to tell her still best girlfriend what she had experienced.

When she arrived home, her father saw her and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“No, you don’t,” she said with a grin. “But it was good. You should get out there again, too. There are plenty of single women.”

He rolled his eyes but then tilted his head thoughtfully. “You know what? You’re right. I should. Maybe give me her number?” He smirked and pointed at her neck.

Silvia glanced in the mirror. There was a red lipstick mark next to some hickeys. She vividly remembered how they got there—the blonde had been in her late twenties, but damn, she had been hot.

“Sorry, Dad,” Silvia said, turning a bit red and placing her hand over the marks.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re old enough, and you’ve got a job. I need to get with the facts of life. I’m happy your boss—Helena, right?—had the sense to call me to let me know you wouldn’t be home last night. Then she called again later to say you wouldn’t be coming home at all. She sounded pretty wasted and... well, she was pretty drunk, I guess.” Her dad turned a bit red. What was that about?

“Yeah. We really drank a lot. Talking about the job... have a look at this.”

Silvia pulled out her knife from her backpack and showed it to him. He was about to reach for it, but she stopped him. “Sorry. No,” she said firmly, holding it out of his reach. “Nobody but the butcher touches their knife’s handle. It’s a thing. They gifted it to me yesterday after…”

She trailed off, not wanting to tell him she had almost been slaughtered. The memory still made her uneasy. She had totally given up her life in that moment, completely letting go, accepting death. Maybe that was the point—you can’t take a life without accepting your own death? She shook her head, trying to focus on the here and now.

“Anyway, I’m now a proper Girl Butcher. Maybe just an apprentice, but I’m not nothing anymore.”

Her father’s face filled with horror for a second. She could see he had tons of questions—questions he wanted to ask, but wouldn’t, questions she didn’t want to answer, and questions that shouldn’t be asked. But she could guess what he was hung up on.

“No, Dad, I haven’t slaughtered anyone. I won’t—not until I’m accredited, and that’s still a long way off.”

Relief flooded his face. He exhaled and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s hard for me to know that you will... slaughter women. But I understand why you do it, and as hard as it is... you’re right. I’m proud of you.”

Silvia’s stomach twisted. She had wanted to hear him say that before she’d been slaughtered. She had wanted to hear that he loved her.

She stepped forward and into his arms. Tears slid down her cheeks as she held him tightly.

“Are you okay? What happened? Something major has happened, and it can’t just be a night of debauchery,” he said gently.

She shook her head against his shoulder. She couldn’t tell anyone. It was too personal.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I just had some major realisations, and I need time to process them.”

After a while of him holding her, she disentangled herself and wiped her face. “Dad... let’s go to the coffee shop on the beach. I want to know how you’re doing. Can we?”

He smiled happily. “That sounds like a great idea... after you take a proper shower and put on fresh clothes. It must have been quite a night... and morning.”

She smirked and went upstairs.

They spent a pleasant afternoon at the coffee shop, talking and catching up. She realised she hadn’t really focused on how her dad was doing lately—she’d been too caught up in her own issues. Living large and bold also meant caring about the other people in her life.

Sunday, Silvia spent at the beach, relaxing and doing nothing. Alone. She had a good cry as she told Nancy about her near-death experience. It felt good to let it out. It still gnawed at her, but one thing she now understood was that these women felt nothing but bliss in their final moments. She had been there. She had been cut, but she had felt nothing except the overwhelming pleasure of her orgasm.

Putting everything into words and speaking them out loud helped her let go of some of the fear and tension. But it also made her realise she needed to make new friends. Nancy was gone, and she had to let her go.

When Monday came, Helena took Silvia aside as soon as she arrived. “Today, we have something special for you. Come.”

“I’m not going to be fake slaughtered again, am I?” Silvia asked, amused.

“No. And that’s nothing to joke about. The next time will be the real deal—if you ever get your Letter.” Helena’s tone was back to its usual clipped precision. Silvia gulped.

They entered Slaughter Room 2. Alexandra, Melissa, Anne and Ramona, who were normally only doing the front of house and never in the slaughter rooms, were already waiting. The bench and spreader bar were set up in the slaughter room, not in their usual place in the prep area. Silvia stopped short. What was going on?

Melissa handed her a vibrator wand, and Silvia stared at it, confused.

“There are things you can’t learn from books, and you can’t fully learn on the job either,” Helena explained. “One of those is how to bring a woman to orgasm with a vibrator while she is in the spreader bar and stressed.”

Silvia blinked at her, stunned. “Wait—what?”

“We all volunteered to help you learn.” Helena’s tone was matter-of-fact. “You owe us real coffee from the good shop, by the way. Two sugars.”

“I do?” Silvia asked, still perplexed. Silvia wasn’t sure why this was something she needed to learn. She managed fine with her own vibrator.

“Yes, you do. Now, let’s begin.” Helena started stripping. “I’ll go first. So it’s definitely awkward for you. Strap me in.” She lay down on the bench, naked, as Melissa and Alexandra strapped her feet into the spreader bar.

Silvia could only manage an awkward, “Uhh…” This was way more than she’d bargained for. Sure, they’d all seen each other naked in the locker rooms and showers, but this? Making her colleagues cum in front of each other?

“It’s fine, Silvia,” Melissa said, noticing her hesitation, while they strapped Helena into the spreader bar. “We all had to learn this. Every good Girl Butcher does. You can’t just wing it with livestock. They need to feel safe and cared for, and the best way to learn is hands-on. Someday, you’ll be teaching the same lesson to another apprentice.”

Silvia glanced at Helena’s pussy, now at eye level, her legs spread wide. Shut… up! Yes, Nancy, I hear you.

“Silvia, hurry up. I want a coffee, and it’s getting cold,” Anne complained, already starting to strip.

“Well, maybe you should have waited your turn before getting naked. You and your eager beaver,” Ramona teased.

Silvia took a deep breath and turned the vibrator on. She placed it on Helena’s pussy.

“Too hard, too fast,” Helena chided. “Dial the power down, put it under the clit, and then push it slowly upward… yes, like that. Now increase the power gradually. Better.”

Helena gave instructions as Silvia worked, explaining how and why to adjust her movements. Then Helena came, her body trembling in the straps. But even in her orgasm, Helena still gave instructions.

The other women clapped when Helena had calmed down again.

“You thought it would be easy, didn’t you?” Helena commented as Melissa and Alexandra helped her down. “But here’s the point: you’ll know these women for only a few minutes. It’s your job to make them relax and feel good.”

“I’m next! I’m freezing,” Anne announced, and this time Helena made Silvia help Melissa strap Anne in. She had to learn that too.

Anne’s body reacted differently from Helena’s, and her cues were more subtle. Silvia hadn’t been with many women, and never in a situation like this. With past lovers, there had been kissing, foreplay—everything was slower, more intimate. This was different. As she worked, she remembered how it had felt being strapped in herself, waiting to die.

Alexandra and Helena offered tips as Silvia experimented. Anne came shortly after, sighing with satisfaction. “Thanks, Silvi. I’ll grab coffee for everyone. Your treat, of course!” she said with a wink as she started dressing.

The training session became more fascinating. Each woman responded differently—pussy shapes, sensitivities, and preferences varied wildly. All of them reacted well to stroking on the insides of their thighs, but others responded to teasing their entrance or stimulating the G-spot. Even in this relatively relaxed setting, figuring out what worked for each woman was a challenge. Silvia couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be with terrified livestock.

What really shocked Silvia was how intensely aroused she became as she worked on Alexandra. It was... as if she felt what Alexandra was feeling. Alexandra came loudly, excessively, and unapologetically. Silvia had to concentrate not to be swept away with her. It was almost like a physical pull emanating from her. After switching off the vibrator, Silvia noticed she wasn’t the only one affected by it. Maybe Helena less so; she just rolled her eyes.

After Silvia had worked on each woman twice, Helena called a halt.

“Oh, come on, one more time,” Ramona pleaded. “I don’t even have a boyfriend right now!”

“Fine,” Helena relented. “Strap her in.”

As Ramona was winched up, Helena smirked. “This time, Silvia, try to keep her right on the edge as long as possible. That’ll teach you how to read her better.”

Ramona squirmed in the spreader bar. “That’s not fair!”

“True. Silvia, get a hook and tie her arms up.”

Silvia hesitated. “Helena, she doesn’t—”

“Sure she does,” Helena interrupted, patting Ramona’s leg. “She loves to complain, but she volunteered, and she knows the rules.”

Melissa chuckled as Silvia learned how to insert the butt hook gently. Tying Ramona’s arms was harder—Ramona wasn’t making it easy.

“Think of her as a frightened woman,” Melissa suggested.

“I AM a frightened woman!” Ramona shot back, her protests laced with a giggle.

Eventually, Silvia managed to secure her arms without being forceful. Keeping Ramona just shy of orgasm proved harder than she’d expected. It took teamwork, with the others giving pointers while Ramona writhed and moaned in frustrated desperation. Silvia had never played a game like that. It was funny to keep her high and dry, but also pretty hard to judge her reactions so she didn’t cum.

“Okay, now let her cum,” Helena instructed. Silvia adjusted the vibrator and slid a finger inside Ramona, and she came instantly—hard, loud, and long.

Ramona hung limp, panting, her face flushed.

“Alright, enough,” Helena said. “We have livestock coming. Anne, get Ramona in the shower. Silvia, help clean this up.”

As they prepared the room, Helena turned to Silvia. “So? Do you think you can do it for real? Make it good for a woman?”

“Do you think I’m ready? If I can’t make her cum... I don’t want her to suffer.”

“I’m your mentor. If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t ask. But you have to feel that you can do it. There can’t be doubt. The livestock needs to feel safe.”

Silvia paused, considering everything she’d just learnt and what she herself had gone through. And now she understood more why this cruel ritual they had put her through was more for all the other women she would encounter than for her. “Yes. Every woman is different, I understand that now, and I understand how it works.”

Helena nodded, satisfied. “I will guide you. You got this.”

Thirty minutes later, Silvia stood beside Helena as Anne brought in Margaret, their first woman of the day. Her first woman. Her first slaughter as a Girl Butcher assistant.

Silvia was nervous; she didn’t want to mess it up for Margaret; she needed to give her best. Make her cum, make her forget, give her peace.

They said hello and Silvia could see how nervous she was. Breathing flat and fast.

Helena scanned her chip, and Silvia made sure she heard the right happy beep sound and saw the green light on the secure tablet that held the information for Margaret.

Silvia helped her onto the bench. Margaret was fearful but cooperative. Helena was extremely gentle, stroking her, and speaking to her softly. Silvia needed to learn that too, she realised, and paid a lot of attention to how Helena did it, but she paid the most attention to Margaret. She deserved it. She gave her life so others didn’t have to.

“So Silvia will now put a metal hook into your butt. That won’t hurt at all, and you are super clean there too. You may even like it. Silvia does, right?”

“Oh, that’s true. I like it a lot, actually. Didn’t know before I tried it.” She didn’t know how Helena knew but suspected that she was just making things up.

Silvia took a deep breath, took some of the pre-warmed lube from the dispenser, and smeared it around Margaret’s butthole slowly and carefully. Then she used her finger to open her sphincter slowly, as Alexandra had shown her in the morning, and inserted the hook.

“All good. I bet it didn’t hurt. Did it?” Helena asked, kneeling next to Margaret’s head, and Margaret shook her head. That already told Silvia that Margaret liked things in her. She was astounded at herself that she had picked that up. But now she understood why Helena had asked so many volunteers.

“Margaret, I’m going to hold your arms now so I can put them up here. It's easier for you that way,” Silvia said, and Margaret cooperated with her. She tied her hands carefully up to the hook.

“So, Margaret, we are ready to go. Let’s get you to the other room, and then it will be over very fast.”

“Please make it painless. Please. I’m...”

“I know you are afraid, but I promise you, you won’t feel a thing. Both of us know from personal experience that you will feel nothing.”

“Personal experience?” Margaret asked, her fear forgotten for a moment.

Helena just smiled and said, “Yes,” and let her ponder. Silvia could see what she was doing; she was distracting her a bit. Helena gave her a sign to open the connector door to Slaughter Room 1, and they moved her out.

Helena knelt down and stroked her cheeks. “We begin now. OK?” She didn’t really wait for the answer. Helena stared at Silvia, lifting her eyebrow. Fuck! The gut bucket. She wanted to rush to get it, but Helena gave her a look, and she didn’t. Slow and purposeful, move slow and purposeful. Fast moves scare the livestock.

Silvia placed the bucket in front of Margaret, and her eyes widened, her breathing going faster. Silvia needed to go to the cabinet to get Helena’s knife and the wand. As she had learned, she passed the knife behind Margaret so she didn’t see it. She made sure she touched only the heavy plastic sheath, not the handle of the blade. You never do that, ever.

“Silvia will now put the vibrator on your clit and will make you cum. When you orgasm, I will slit your throat, but you won’t even notice. Then you will slip away peacefully, having the best orgasm you ever had.”

That was it. She needed to make it good, make her cum, make her forget. She breathed through it and switched on the wand and was rewarded with a loud moan as she slowly hit the clit. She put one finger on her entrance, and she could feel her reaction; she liked it. Margaret built fast, and Silvia concentrated on her. Stroking her inner legs, playing with her entrance, and building her up to an orgasm.

She could feel how Margaret slowly relaxed into it, and finally, she let go of the brakes and gave in. Silvia understood that very well; she had fought it, too. Trying to stay alive as long as possible, but then ultimately giving in to the pleasure.

Margaret’s body shuddered as she came, and her blood spilled into the container. Silvia didn’t need to hear Helena say to keep the vibrator on her; she would have done it automatically. Let her ride out the last waves of her orgasm and her life. Silvia gave her the same care, and maybe even better than she would have wanted for herself. After checking the tablet that was still connected to her birth chip, Helena announced her gone. Something else she hadn’t seen in Clapton South.

Silvia switched off the vibrator, and Helena stood up. “Thank you, Margaret,” Silvia whispered to the dead body.

“Are you OK?” asked Helena carefully, putting a hand on her arm.

“Yes, I think so,” Silvia said. She took a deep breath and then said, “I think I did it well for her. I really hope so.”

“You did a good job. The more you do it, the better you get. Now...” Helena moved around the dead body. “... point out to me the insertion and exit points for the gutting cuts.”

Silvia traced her finger on the still-warm body, indicating the cut. She knew that the body itself would still work for some minutes until it realised it was dead, but it already felt... empty.

“Good. Stay back.” She did, and Helena made the cuts. Then she talked Silvia through the gutting, the removal of the organs, and finally, the removal of the head. It was fast but precise and respectful—not like in the Centre. These weren’t crude cuts. Helena cut for quality, not speed.

“OK. Move the carcass into cold storage and put the head in the incinerator. I’ll get changed, and we will meet in Slaughter Room 2 in less than two minutes. We don’t want to let her wait too long. Don’t forget to clean up. Dirty aprons, or worse, bloodstained ones, only stress out the livestock.”

Silvia understood that and hurried to move the body and dispose of the head. She thought she would have been much more nervous about her first slaughter, but she had to concentrate on Margaret to make it good for her. She had forgotten to be nervous.

Jill was next, all businesslike. She had even asked just to cut her throat and be done with it, but she enjoyed the orgasm. She even screamed out, “I never... oh... my! Oh...” but then her throat was cut, and no words came out anymore.

Helena had her talk through the whole gutting process and then move the second carcass into the cold storage.

She met Melissa in the cold storage as she brought in her carcass. “How did it go?”

“Very good, I think. They all managed to come, but I needed the finger technique you showed me on the first one. Thanks for that.”

“Sure, let’s get them cold, and then we should have lunch. You coming?”

Silvia hesitated. She had never been invited to lunch before.

Mother woke me up. “Come, it’s time for Morning Penance.”

I blinked awake. I was as excited as I was anxious. This would be my first Morning Penance. A rite of passage, and a symbol that I was now a woman. A full woman, with all the duties that entailed.

I got up and gave my pussy a quick wash; she should be clean. I stopped. I was a woman now, not a child; I had a cunt. It made me smile.

I had shaved my cunt clean last night; just as all proper women should do, there should be no hair on it. Nothing should hide the sins of having a cunt. I was no longer a child but a sinful woman.

Together we went downstairs to the kitchen. Father was already waiting. It was a bit weird, but he was the head of the household, and that was that.

Mother went to the Lord's symbol, inclined her head and gave the Adjuster that hung under it a quick and devoted kiss. Then she took the Adjuster and handed it to my Father. It was a red leather strap with many ornaments. Each woman of our family had added to it. When I was married, I would add to it too, carrying on my family's legacy.

Wordlessly, my mother sat down on the kitchen table and hiked up her skirt.

I had watched my mother's Morning Penance for as long as I could remember, but today I would perform it too. I was a bit anxious and nervous. Could I be as faithful as her?

She laid her head back and spread her legs wide.

Mother exhaled and a calm spread over her as it always did. “Give me my Penance for being a sinful woman.”

Father stepped forward, raising the Adjuster high and cracking the strap of leather between my mother’s legs, directly on her cunt.

“I’m a sinful cunt. Cleanse me, purge my sin,” Mother said firmly and calmly. Her legs slightly trembled, but her words carried, as always, the devotion she felt. I hoped I would be able to be so devoted too.

“The Lord has given you a role.” My father continued the Morning Penance by smacking my mother again between her spread legs.

“I’m a worthless cunt. My role is to serve men.” I had learned the words to all the prayers in school, as every woman had. This was the Cunt's prayer recited for every Morning Penance.

“The Lord has given you a purpose.” And again, Father applied the Adjuster hard between her legs.

“A cunt’s purpose is to suffer. A cunt’s purpose is to serve men.”

“The Lord has created women for men to enjoy.”

His smacks were even and always directly on my mother’s clit. The clit that was the centre of all the evil of all women.

“I’m a filthy cunt. I have no other pleasure than to suffer.”

“The Lord has set men above women.”

Mother’s clit was red by now, her cunt lips swollen. But she didn’t cry or scream; I hoped I would be able to be as devoted to the Lord as she was.

“Cunts serve men. My only purpose in life is to serve and suffer.”

“Amen.” My father said, and he smacked the Adjuster down hard on her. The last smack was always the hardest. Mother tensed and grimaced with pain for a heartbeat.

My mother closed her legs and came off the table, falling on her knees in front of my father. She opened my father’s trousers and kissed his dick as any good wife should after receiving his blessing.

“Amen.” Mother said, looking up to him and putting his dick back into his trousers.

Father helped her up, and Mother smiled at me. “It’s your turn, darling. Your very first Morning Penance as a woman.”

I nodded; my throat was dry. I put myself on the kitchen table, pushed my skirt up, and opened my legs, exposing my sinful cunt.

I took a deep breath and started the Cunt’s Prayer.

“Give me my Penance for being a sinful woman.”

The Adjuster smacked between my legs, and I tried to hold the scream in. It hurt so much. It was hard enough to keep my legs open. I knew they had moved too close, but I had forced myself not to. It would have been too shameful to close them to the Lord's blessing. Screaming and crying was acceptable. That was what women were for. That was what the Lord had made us: creatures to endure pain.

“I’m a sinful cunt. Cleanse me, purge my sin,” I said between gritted teeth.

Father’s voice was full of pride. “The Lord has given you a role.”

Again, he hit my clit with the leather of the Adjuster. This Adjuster had been in my family for generations, handed down from mother to daughter. It would be mine when I married, and my husband would perform the Morning Penance with me.

My legs were shivering with my effort not to close them; my cunt and clit radiated the hurt throughout my body.

“I’m a worthless cunt. My role is to serve men,” I said the words and could for the first time feel the truth of them. Without the pain, the words had no meaning. The Lord has given us the pain to be able to feel the mercy of him and the men that owned us.

“The Lord has given you a purpose.”

I screamed. It hurt so much. I had trained, as every girl does, smacking my own pussy and making sure my legs stayed open, but the Adjuster was so much different from my hand. I knew I was crying. The Adjuster gave a woman the chance to feel the cleansing of a woman’s sins through its rigorous pain. It was the woman’s duty to open herself up to it.

“A cunt’s purpose is to suffer. A cunt’s purpose is to serve men,” I said between sobs. The pain made the words so true. Women had to suffer to serve men. From today onward, I was a woman, and my purpose was to serve and to suffer. It made me proud. Pain went away, but the sins of a woman were there forever. Our cunts were there to be used by men as they please. Our cunts were men's property. Our cunts were our sin.

“The Lord has created women for men to enjoy.”

The pain radiated again from my cunt. I was now crying hard. I knew in time, I would be able to perform the Morning Penance like a true devoted woman, to suffer and endure, but at least I hadn’t closed my legs. They had shifted as the Adjuster smacked down on my cunt relentlessly, but I had managed. It was so painful, but that was the purpose. I know my mother hurt too; she had told me. All women hurt, but as they grew older they were able to endure it with more dignity. Women had to hurt; cunts had to be punished. Sin had to be punished.

“I’m a filthy cunt. I have no other pleasure than to suffer,” I said between sobs and sniffles.

My father gave me a moment longer to recover before saying the next line of the Cunt’s Prayer.

“The Lord has set men above women.”

I clenched my fists and my core muscles. My legs trembled so hard. They had moved, and I knew it. I was a worthless cunt. I needed to be better, to be more dedicated to the Lord. Train my legs to stay open. Accept my Penance. His mercy.

“Cunts serve men. My only purpose in life is to serve and suffer.” It was hard to say the words. I knew the next hit would be the hardest and the last, but I had to say the word, finish my penance, my prayer. The words mattered. The prayer mattered. My suffering had to matter.

My hands grabbed the edge of the table, and I clenched my core muscles, forced my will to leave my legs open, to present my sinful cunt to the man that owned it. Until I was married and my cunt was owned by my husband, my father, as the head of the household, was the Lord’s tool. He would perform all the rituals to purge the sins from my sinful cunt.

“Amen,” Father said, and with it, the pain exploded between my legs.

I screamed loudly, trembling. My legs had twitched hard—not closed, but not open either. How could I be faithful and a good woman? I had to do better. I sobbed as I fell on my knees in front of my father.

As required, I slid off the table and knelt in front of him, head down. My tears tripped on the floor.

I was a woman now. A woman who could receive the Lord's blessing each morning, thought the man of the household.

I leaned forward and kissed his feet. Only wives were allowed to kiss the Lord's proof of man’s superiority, and he was my father. He had duties he had to fulfil. Purging the women in his household of their sins each morning, and he had and would until my husband would take over.

I took a deep breath. 'Amen.'

The Lord had blessed me. I could feel his cleansing pain between my legs. My sins were being purged, and I was, at last, a real woman.

Mother helped me up from the floor and hugged me; she was in tears of happiness.

“I’m so proud of you. You did well for your first Morning Penance. Do you feel the Lord's mercy between your legs?”

I nodded. I did. I felt it. The heat, the pulsing stabbing pain.

Father had tears in his eyes as he stroked my cheek. “You’ve grown up so fast. Soon you will be married.”

I bit my lip. I loved my Father for giving me the mercy of the Lord. But still I felt bad. I have not been as devoted and open to the pain as I should have been.

“I’m sorry I’m such a bad cunt,” I said between sobs.

“That’s okay, darling. The Lord knows it’s not easy as a woman. Tomorrow will already be easier. In time you will be able to receive the full mercy of the Lord's pain.”

Father handed me the Adjuster. My eyes widened. I was allowed to put it back? My hands shook as I took it from him. They were immensely proud, I could see. I had never held the Adjuster. The leather strap that had made generations of women in my family be devoted to the Lord. It must have felt so many cunts under it.

I hung it back in its place, under the symbol of the Lord. I leaned forward and gave it a kiss of devotion as was custom. Tomorrow, it will give me my Penance again, and hopefully I will be able to receive the Lord's mercy more openly.

I prayed quickly and silently. “Lord, let this worthless cunt know your mercy and grace.”

It was time for breakfast.

The metal banging woke them as usual. For a moment, they panicked as they couldn’t see anything, but then they remembered. It wasn’t easy to wake up bound, blinded and totally helpless.

George had a hard time, he could still feel the stretch of his arsehole, and it made him think of last night. He swallowed hard. His old life had truly ended, and looking back on it didn’t make him feel any better at all. What had he done the whole time?

Andrea felt good this morning. Melissa’s care had been a surprise, something she had not known existed. She had always used sex as a bargaining chip, but someone caring for her, really caring, was new. She wasn’t into women, she knew that, but…

Julia could still feel her vulva had been used, she could smell sex on her, and she could remember the feeling of pleasing her rider. She could be like Andrea, strong and firm. Today, if they did the plough again, she would pull; she would get as strong as Andrea.

Maria still smelled her rider's pussy on her face, and it made her smile a bit. She finally knew how to do this, and it wasn’t that bad at all. It didn’t matter if she liked it or not. It only needed to be done. She needed a rider to marry her. She needed the security to make sure that her…. She stopped. For a second, she couldn't remember if her sister had blond or black hair. Panic set in that instant. Blond. She was blond. Maria breathed out the panic as best as she could.

They all remembered the walk yesterday, and they all tried to drop manure as best as they could, but Andrea couldn’t force it. So she had no other choice but to resign to what lay ahead of her.

All the ponies became skittish when new voices called their names and new hands touched them. They sought support from their lead mare, and Andrea provided it, even though she herself was a bit scared. An older male voice had called her name. But soon enough, they all settled down. The voices were as soft as the touches, and what else could they do but submit? They were ponies.

They were hand-fed and masturbated again, told how good ponies they were, how nice and wet their vulvas were, how nice their arseholes felt, how firm their tits were. They were fingered, probed and aroused. The colt as much as the fillies, just with different words.

The woman who was looking after George today told him how much she liked his balls hanging low, and when she cleaned his butt, that she liked that he had been fucked last night and that it turned her on to have to look after such an amazing colt today.

It all was confusing, but what was there to do besides being a good and brave pony?

Mindy’s voice was the only constant they knew, and it helped settle them even though her words were unsettling. “Riders. Take the ponies one after the other to morning training. Start with the lead mare. Then install the belt until midday feed and then again until evening training.”

“Right, pretty chestnut. I know you have experience. Let’s see how much training you actually need. You might not need Morning and evening training.”

She knew this would come at some stage. A pony was a sexual creature. There to please with its body.

The older male pulled at her bridle and led her away. It was already easier for her to walk without seeing, having to fully trust the rider. So far, they have not been led to stumble or trip.

She could smell the stable and the clean area where the vet had seen them. “You know the mounting chair already. See nothing to be afraid of. Ok? Let’s start.”

After the male had strapped her in and pushed her forward, he took her bit out, and only a second later, she smelled and felt his dick on her lips. She knew what to do with that, at least something she knew that was expected. She opened her mouth, and he inserted himself into her.

“Oh wow. Respect. You know what you are doing. We should make you train some ponies later. Oh, let’s see how long and deep you can take it.”

He slowly slid his dick down her throat. She was happy that he didn’t do it like some of the jerks she had satisfied before in her life, just ramming it down her throat. His dick wasn’t that thick, and she could breathe past it as he entered deep into her.

“That’s all very well, my lovely Chestnut. Let’s see about the rest.” He said as he moved behind her.

“Oh, that’s good. It has turned you on. Good filly.” And he helped himself to her vulva. “That’s nice and wet.” He said as he fucked her for a while rather hard. “OK, let’s see for your arse. Ok, that opens nicely. Oh, you haven't dropped yet. Bad filly.” He used his hand to spank her hard until she sobbed and tried to hold in screams.

She felt a wet tube enter her butt. She tensed up as she realised that he was giving her an enema. She could feel herself being filled up. When it stopped, she felt full, real full, ready to push it all out, but she couldn't. She was in that contraption.

“Hold it in. You spill it out, I will whip your butt and tits. I don’t want to clean your mess up. Understood?“ She knew by now that these weren’t idle threats. Riders did what they promised, and it took her quite some self-control to keep it all in.

“While we wait, let's see what your vulva can take.”

She felt something big working its way into her, stretching her beyond what she was used to. She tried, tried real hard, but she let out a scream as the huge tip forced itself into her. She had never been fisted, or anything else remotely like that, and this felt like her vulva was being split open.

And the worst thing was that she also needed to try to hold the enema in while that monster dildo split her vulva open. She had to concentrate, not to let go. She was well past tears and just ground through the pain and the effort.

“That’s a real good effort.” The huge dildo began to move in her as he stimulated her clit.

“You can cum if you like.” She didn’t know she could, but after less than a minute, she did. She was too surprised and overwhelmed, and just moaned and screamed it out, still trying to hold her enema in.

“I won’t punish you, my little filly. You did very well. But you still have to be a good pony and make all the right noises. Let’s take you outside, and you can drop manure, and then I'll clean you up and fuck your arse. Then you can be a good pony. Good? Yes? Good filly.” He patted her and got her out of the machine.

Julia heard Andrea neigh as she returned, which gave her some hold, but she could also hear her exhaustion and tears. She had a female rider today, who guided her to the mounting chair. She was a bit afraid of it. The last time had not been very pleasant.

“OK, lovely pony. This will train all your holes; they are not very used, and we can’t have that. Just relax. You will be fine. It’s only five minutes, and if you are a good pony, I will make you cum. Ok? Good.”

She could feel a plastic staff before her lips, and then it pushed into her mouth. It was made from soft plastic, and it went into her mouth until she gagged. Then stopped.

“I know! Don’t be afraid. We train you slowly. It’s normal to gag. Keep breathing. That’s a good filly. Concentrate on not vomiting and on breathing. The machine won’t stop, even if you vomit.”

As the machine began to move in and out of her mouth, she had a gag reflex, but after a while, she managed to handle it. “OK, let’s do your other holes, shall we? “

She felt her rider apply lube on her vulva and arsehole, and then something pushed into her vulva. “See, not so bad.” And the thing in her started to move in sync with the dildo in her mouth. She was initially a bit stiff, but she began to settle into the rhythm as both pushed into her at the same time. The one in her mouth caused her the most trouble as she had to fight with her stomach.

“Now you arse. You haven’t been fucked into that, right? A pity, but I will go slow on you, my pretty.” She was petted, and then she felt the rider's finger enter her arsehole, widen it and move against the rhythm of the dildo that was fucking her vulva.

“That’s a good Filly. Twice a day, five minutes each time, and you’ll be ready in no time. Ok. Now! The one in your mouth will spill cum-flavoured liquid into you and push deeper. You need to swallow that like a good pony. Ready or not, here it comes.”

Her eyes bulged out as the dildo pushed deeper into her throat and then spewed some fluid.

“Swallow! Don’t spew. If you spew, I have to spank you and I don’t… good… ok. Keep on swallowing. There you are. Well done. One more time at the end, and you are done.”

Julia tried to get her breathing under control again, and it slowly worked. That liquid had almost made her vomit, and she still could feel the sour taste of it nearly coming out, but she had managed it and that made her feel good. The rider started to play again with her clit, and slowly she rose and then came. She could control herself better when the last load of the morning was pumped into her. Finally, she was released from the machine, and the rider praised her for doing well. Julia wasn’t sure how she should feel. On one hoof, she knew ponies needed to be used; on the other, nobody had ever told her or trained her for this. What was it that made a good pony?

It was George's turn, and he was also subjected to a deep-throat fuck as well as arse fucking. His dick was put into a vacuum sleeve. The dildo fucking him hurt his throat and stretched his arsehole. The vacuum stretched his dick without letting him cum. His tears ran down his cheek as he endured it all. The machine did not care about his abuse and the shame he felt. Not the shame that he was treated like a fuck toy, but the shame that he had not been better than this machine.

“Oh, my big colt. Don’t cry. You are doing such a good job. Only an outstanding colt can have his arse fucked like that. Hey, I'll make you a deal. You stop crying and swallow the load, and then you can cum in one of the fillies. You would like that, right? Yes. Ok, here it comes.”

And the dildo in his mouth pushed itself deep into him, making him gag, and then it spewed liquid that tasted like cum. He had trouble swallowing the amount of liquid it pushed into him and not vomit.

“That’s a good colt, very nicely done. You would be a good addition to my stable. I would love to see you swallow some rider’s cum and then fuck me properly.”

He still felt humiliated but also somewhat happy that he had been able to do it without vomiting. At least this was a woman.

Maria had never been fucked like that. Cucumbers were in her control; here, she had no control at all. All her holes were stuffed rhythmically and relentlessly while her rider played with her clit, making her cum. She had never experienced anything like that, and the orgasm that followed almost made her pass out. But she managed and neighed as she had been trained.

After the ponies had been brought back to the feeding place, they had been cleaned up a bit, and then their vulvas and arses were lubed up again. They did not have much time to contemplate what would happen next as a belt was forced between their legs. The belt for the fillies had two dildos on it, one for each of their holes. The colt had only one, but it had a metal ring for his dick and balls. The belt was attached to their harness, leaving little wiggle room and forcing the dildos deep into them. George’s dick and balls were pushed through a metal ring in the belt, squeezing him and keeping him hard.

Walking so filled up was hard. It became annoying and then irritating. But they had no choice. This was what their riders had decided to do to them, and this was what they had to endure.

They were led out again to the plough; this time, every pony was made to pull a plough by itself. The plough was a bit smaller for the fillies, but still, it wasn’t easy. The plough may be less hard to pull, but the dildos in them made it harder with each step. Irritating them and heating some of them up. Especially for Andrea, she could cum vaginally, and this pushed all her buttons.

George hated that the ring kept hard the whole time, he could not see it but feel it, and it made him feel stupid to pull a plough with a hard one. But his rider seemed to enjoy it and even played with his dick and balls at each end of the row.

Those who didn’t pull hard enough became acquainted with a riding whip on their arses or backs, which motivated them to pull harder.

Julia gave everything; she wanted to be as strong as Andrea, and when she had a pause, she searched her lead mare out, touching flanks. It was hard and sweaty work. If Mindy wanted her sweaty and if Andrea wanted her to pull, by the Gods, she would.

After the colt had pulled the plough, he was allowed to have a filly.

“So Andrea, choose a filly that the colt can cover. You are allowed to say one name.”

Andrea felt Julia's butt bump against hers. She offered, that was good, Maria was a bit too puffed, and she didn’t want more fucking. Good filly.

“Julia,” She said and heard her whinny in acceptance.

Julia was turned towards the other two fillies, and the colt dick was guided into her vulva.

“No, George, Fuck her like a colt. Hard and heavy.” His rider complained as she used her crop on his arse to give him a beat. “Harder. Take that filly properly. You will never get to fuck a rider if you are such a pussy. Harder. Dam it.”

George put more force into it and hammered into the wet filly in front of him.

Julia was whinnying and neighing under the assault of the big colt. The other fillies could feel his hard pushes through Julia’s body.

When George came with a loud, long neigh, Julia sank against the other two fillies, exhausted.

Andrea used one of her precious words for Julia. “Good”. She wanted to say so much more but could not, but she felt Julia against her appreciating what she had said.

They again got the sports drink for midday feed, which restored their exhausted bodies. They were also taken out of their dildo belts to relieve themselves. The riders cleaned them up, and after feeding and masturbation, they were lubed up and stuffed with the dildo belts again.

The afternoon was filled with a long walk. The walk had much more challenging elements. From rough stones and winding narrow paths to many roots and stones across the path. Even some obstacles. The riders told them when to lift their feet, and they had to fully trust them not to stumble. And as long as they did, they were safe. Sometimes, their brains set in, and they tried to overthink it, and that’s when they stumbled.

The evening brought training again. They were brought one after the other to the fuck machines, and their holes pounded, and their throats filled with cum-like liquid.

None of the ponies liked it. Being pounded that way felt mechanical and unloving. But they were ponies. This is what their riders wanted; that was what they had to do.

For all the ponies except Andrea. Her rider taught her how to be fucked as a proper filly, how to stand and what to do. He enjoyed her arse again and came in her. She didn’t like to be fucked by whoever and whenever someone wanted her, but this was her life now. At least she was looked after. It could be worse. At least when she was chosen, she would have a partner and a future.

The evening feed and masturbation were almost a relief after the machine. At least it was a person who played with them, fingered them and spoke to them. It felt much better than being used by something mechanical.

After evening feed, they were properly cleaned with warm water and lovely-smelling soap and given fresh bridles and harnesses.

Andrea felt like she was being taken care of, which was something new to her that she wasn’t sure she liked. Nobody had ever taken care of her except her nanny, who had disappeared when she first had bled, and her mother told her she was now a woman and needed to get things done herself. She had never taken care of anyone either, and now she was the lead mare of this herd. Stabilising them, guiding them.

Julia liked it. She liked being taken care of, especially as she had put a lot of effort into it today. She had endured the machine, the dildo, as well as pulling the plough as hard as she could. She knew that Andrea couldn’t see her, but she knew she could smell the sweat on her, and she had even rewarded her with the colt. She liked being taken like that. When he pushed hard into her, she hoped her good night treat was nice, too.

For Maria, this day had started badly, and now that it had ended, it had gotten worse. She could not remember her father’s face. Only the feeling when he had left the room when she trained herself. Her mother’s face had disappeared from her mind completely. only the feeling of her holding her remained. She didn’t know what to do about this. What if she forgot everything? What if the attention and the food and care she got made her forget her sister and father?

Taking the filly, Julia probably, had been hard for George. He wanted to be nice to her, make love to her, but his rider had not allowed it; he wanted him to be brutal with her. He didn’t understand. Yes, he liked to hammer into a pussy, feel his balls slam against her clit and lose himself in that warm and wet tube. He was confused again and would just follow what he was being trained to do.

The good night treats were being made to cum by their riders, as usual. At least there was no crop anymore.

Andrea was made to swallow her rider's load, and then he made her cum with his hand. While Julia was made to eat out the pussy of her rider, and then she made her cum.

George got a blowjob from his rider, and it felt so good, especially because he hadn’t cum and his dick was pulsing to all the vacuuming it had been subjected to. He came fast and she expertly swallowed his load and kept on stimulating him while she played with his balls.

Maria got an arse fuck from her rider and made to cum while he spilled his seed into her colon. She didn’t like it up her butt, but she tried to like it while desperately clinging on to pictures of her past life.

As the lights went out, Andrea used her last word for the day. She had thought about it the whole day. One word to express ‘Well done, I’m proud of you’ and ‘keep up’. As loud and as much articulated as the bit allowed her, she said, “Bravo.” And her herd whinnied in response.

Again, the days started to flow into each other as new riders came to them each morning. Their senses of smell, touch, and hearing became more pronounced. They began to get to know each other through the touch and scent of their bodies. Andrea was no longer subjected to the machines, except for some additional throat training. Instead, she was trained to be taken like a proper filly, standing, by male riders and female riders, into any or all of her holes.

Andrea could hear Melissa with George, and it made her feel something she didn’t like. Something that made her wish Melissa was looking after her today, but she got the older woman. From her memory, she decided that there must be at least eight different riders who cared for them. Mindy was still in charge and gave all the commands but started to step more and more into the background as the riders took over caring for the ponies.

It was probably the fourth day when Maria lost it. It had been building up slowly and erupted from her like an explosion. She was about to be put before the plough when suddenly, she howled in anguish, “I can't remember her face. I can’t remember her face”, pulled hard at her lead and bolted. Her female rider simply let the lead slip, staring after her as Maria bolted down the field. She hadn’t even tried to rein her in.

She could not see anything, but still ran headlong across the field, howling and crying. Then she stumbled and crashed to the ground.

Andrea heard most of it, but she could not do anything. She shouted, “Stop,” and then, “Please stop her. Help her.” She wanted to run after her, but her rider reined her in hard. Andrea could hear her running away from them. She felt helpless; she just hoped she would not hurt herself.

Mindy ran full tilt after Maria, cursing the rider for letting her go. She cursed the rider for not running after her, for just standing there like an idiot. She would deal with her later. She saw Maria stumble and fall hard to the ground. At least she had fallen before she had reached the orchard. That could have been much worse. Mindy hoped she was all right. Losing it like that and not having her rider reining her in and protecting her from herself could destroy all the training and trust built over the last weeks, not only for Maria but also for the other ponies. The rider should have known the ponies were in a vulnerable stage of training. Everyone knew Maria hadn’t had her first freak out yet. Trust must be built slowly and can be destroyed by just one mistake. A mistake just like this one.

Trust was built by caring, speaking, touching, and providing clear rules and sticking to them. She would have to punish Andrea, too. She had uttered one word too much. She needed to install some more discipline in that one, even if her heart was in the right place.

She reached Maria, who was still mumbling that she couldn't remember her sister’s face. At least she was conscious. They may have been lucky.

“Maria, I’m here. All good. I’m here. Stay where you are. Don’t move.”

Mindy did a quick check. Nothing obviously was broken, some lacerations from the fall. No blood. She let out a breath of relief.

“Speak. Are you hurting anywhere?”

Maria sobbed but said, “No, ma’am. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“We will punish you later for the words before you bolted. Now, let’s check you over. Whinny if anything is hurting.”

She touched her everywhere, moved all the joints and every limb.

“You are lucky. You are ten metres from the trees. You could have brained yourself. And then what would happen to your sister? Don’t speak. Can you get up? Good. Hey! Bring the colt. He needs to carry her back.”

Maria sobbed, and Mindy held her still, stroking her neck and keeping her voice low. Maria felt stupid. She had jeopardised everything. Her life. Her sister’s future.

“Calm, Maria. Breathe. You are a pony, a good pony. You will be punished for speaking, but that is it. Nothing bad happened. Now relax.”

George was made to carry her on his back. As much as he liked her naked breasts against his back and her light body on his, he was worried for her. He had only heard what happened; he could not even fathom what it would take to make him bolt blindly. What she had shouted did not bother him. He could not fully remember his father’s or mother’s faces either, but he didn’t want to. They had cast him out, so he had cast them out of his thoughts.

As Mindy returned to the other riders, she tried to be professional, but it was hard. In an icy voice, she faced the rider who was supposed to look after Maria, “Clara, you are dismissed. You endangered your pony.”

“But…” the rider started.

“Go before I use my crop on your sorry arse. Stupid cow. Your pony could have seriously injured herself or, worse, lost trust forever. Riders, let that be a warning to you.” Mindy held it together better than she expected.

As Mindy passed by Andrea, she pulled at her bridle and said harshly, “Second strike. One more, and I personally chain you to a wall of the cheapest brothel in the slums I can find. You are a pony. A lead… but a pony. We make the rules, and you follow them.”

This frightened Andrea more than anything else. She would not survive a brothel in the slum for long. Maybe a year if she was lucky or unlucky. She would die forgotten and overused, chained to some wall with a dick in one of her holes from malnutrition and pure exhaustion.

This was not a fate she wanted. She would need to make an effort.

“I’ll take her.” Andrea heard Melissa say, and then she sensed her perfume as Melissa took her bridle and led her away.

“Andrea. Stop being the centre of the party. That life is gone. You are a pony. Behave like one. Please.”

Andrea let her head hang and could feel Melissa’s hand on her butt.

“I know you wanted to make sure she was safe, but you are a pony. That’s not your job. It’s ours. To keep you safe. It comes with owning a pony. Learn to be a better pony. For me. Please.”

Andrea almost stopped walking. What had she just said? Did Melissa want to claim her? She didn’t want to marry a woman.

A searing pain spread over her butt as Melissa’s crop hit her. “Move filly.” She just commanded, and Andrea moved along, knowing that she would have the choice of spending the rest of her life with a woman as a partner and rider, being sold on the auction block to Gods knows whom or ending her life at the end of a filthy chain, cum dripping out of her. None of that was any choice she wanted to take. But the only choice she really had was to try not to be sold to a brothel.

Maria calmed as she was carried on the big, strong colt’s back, while Mindy walked beside her and talked to her.

“Listen, Maria. You are here to become a pony. Your only purpose is to be a pony. You have a new life. Your old one no longer exists. If you are claimed, you will probably be allowed to remember your old life. But until then, you are a pony. Nothing exists for you except your rider and his or her wishes. Understood?”

Maria knew it. She had always known it. She had to let go of everything. If she was not claimed, there was no future for anyone. She neighed and nodded her head, and Mindy patted her butt.

They were all returned to the stables, watered, petted, and talked to. Maria’s injuries were treated, and she was thoroughly checked over by the vet. The vet ordered her to rest for the rest of the day in case she had a concussion. Mindy decided to give the whole herd the rest of the day off. She needed to repair the damage from that accident.

A pony from the Farm was a status symbol, not just some pony trained by who knows. The Farm was an institution. Trusted and with strong traditions. A Farm pony trusts its rider, relies on its rider. They were not replaceable like slaves. It costs a lot to train a Farm pony, and it costs a lot more to claim one. Only good ponies were claimed by Farm riders. Mediocre ones came onto the auction block. Anyone else was sold off to the brothels, but that rarely happened. They had been training ponies for a century, and their process produced good, stable ponies that were conditioned so that they could enter a ‘normal’ life without losing their pony attitudes. They functioned in both worlds, which made them that valuable.

“Take them to the meadow and let them rest until the evening feed and training,” Mindy ordered Melissa; she had to go and sort this out.

Andrea lay down in the grass and the sun. It was her first break from everything since she had stepped into her mother’s car… long ago. She didn’t even know what date or day of the week it was anymore. It felt good and deserved. She had been afraid when she heard Maria bolt away. It had rattled her; she wasn’t sure why, but Mindy's words made sense, and she understood. As a pony, they depended on their riders, and the riders needed to care for their ponies.

Julia lay down next to her. By now, Andrea could distinguish Julia by scent. They touched flanks. Andrea neighed for George and guided him to them. He also lay down with them, touching their legs.

They just lay and enjoyed the sun on them, the light breeze over their skin, and did nothing. At some stage, Maria joined them, and they took her into their midst, surrounding her.

They all wished they could talk to each other and say what was on their minds, but they couldn't. So they used their bodies and their pony noises as well as they could.

When she started to work for Helena, Silvia hadn’t been allowed anywhere near a carcass. Cleaning and disinfecting the slaughter rooms were her only tasks, and now, she was really good at it. If she was honest, the cleaning had become a kind of meditation for her—calming and focusing her mind.

But cleaning wasn’t all anymore. Helena had started teaching her and pushing her into new areas.

The first thing Helena did was send her to the gym. Silvia had never worked out before, but she quickly realised she had no choice. A carcass weighed between 50 and 70 kilos, sometimes more. If she wanted to lift and handle them properly, she needed the strength. Dropping a carcass would be wasteful—and deeply disrespectful.

She learned how to handle knives, practised sharpening them until they were razor-sharp, and learned how to bandage a cut. Helena dumped a whole new field of knowledge and learning on her.

First aid, medical texts, sanitation manuals, and the laws governing population control and civil rights. Helena drilled her endlessly, and Silvia soaked it all in. She learned how to store meat, prepare marinades, and—above all—keep everything meticulously clean.

Silvia worked full-time now, from morning to closing, and the rhythm of the job gave her a sense of belonging. Alexandra started to talk to her. Helena no longer ignored her. And Melissa? Melissa was… Melissa. Friendly but stiff—a bit square, Silvia thought, but dependable. She was technically Silvia’s boss, though in truth, everyone here outranked her.

Even Anne, who was responsible for the preparation phase, and Ramona, who sat at reception but also did admin, could pull rank if they wanted a coffee or a favour. Silvia had no issues with that. She understood her place and knew she had to earn her way up. It made sense.

It had been two months since she’d graduated to real tasks like sorting and dicing sausage meat, cleaning intestines, and making Girl sausage. It was important work—nothing of a body should go to waste. These women had given their lives; the least they deserved was to be fully used.

Girl sausage was incredibly popular, though Silvia no longer ate it. She knew too much about what went into it. But the more they used of a carcass, the more food was produced and that lowered the cull rates. It was easy maths. So it was important.

She was feeding a line of sausages from the machine when Helena strode into the butcher room.

“Silvia, I need you,” Helena said briskly.

Silvia looked up, a bit surprised; she had just started on the sausage, as ordered. “Sure, give me a sec,” she said, carefully finishing her current run and putting the knife back into its holder—just as she’d been taught.

“OK, what needs cleaning?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Actually, we need you in the changing room. Now,” Helena said. Her tone was clipped, matter-of-fact.

The changing room? That was… new.

“Listen,” Helena continued as Silvia followed her out. “We’re two Tits and a Cunt short. So, we’ve volunteered you.”

Silvia stopped in her tracks, her stomach lurching. “What?”

“You heard me. We volunteered you. We need your Tits and Cunt. You’re going to be slaughtered. What’s there not to understand? Come on.”

“You can’t just volunteer me!” Silvia snapped. “That’s against the law. Article 7 says—”

“True,” Helena interrupted, unbothered. “But in your apprenticeship contract, it’s clearly stated that we can. You signed it. Same as my last apprentice. She got volunteered too. Did you really believe that bullshit with her Letter? If they don’t perform, we can do it. So let’s go already.”

Silvia’s stomach churned. She had signed that damn contract without really reading it. She’d trusted Helena, trusted the system. Had that been naive? Stupid?

“But…” Silvia sputtered, her mind reeling.

Helena opened the door for her. “Alexandra will slaughter you. The other three women are already heading to the changing room. We need to hurry.”

“Can I at least call my dad?” Silvia’s voice cracked. “Please?”

“I already called your dad to let him know you won’t be home tonight. No time for teary goodbyes,” Helena said, her voice firm. “You’re up. Chin up, girl. Let’s go.”

Silvia’s head sank. She couldn’t even say goodbye to him. That really hurt her. She wanted to tell him she loved him. Hear his voice. Hear that he loved her. She almost started crying, but kept it under control. She would not give Helena that satisfaction.

Shit. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. She’d always imagined it differently—planned, special. She would have a week to prepare, enough time to say goodbye. Now, she had nothing. It was Friday. She wouldn’t even have a weekend. This was so unfair.

Helena leaned against the doorframe, her impatience showing. “Seriously? You saw your friend go. You know it’s easy. So come on, we’re running out of time. Take off the apron—you’ll scare the livestock.”

How was that fair? She had done good work. She knew that.

Helena raised her eyebrows. “If you don’t come, you violate section 9a...”

Silvia’s head fell. Forced Slaughter for her and worse for her dad too. How could Helena do this to her?

Shut… up! The words echoed in Silvia’s mind. Nancy’s voice. What else is there to do? Nancy had done it, so could she.

Reluctantly, Silvia slipped off her apron and placed it neatly on the bench. She turned to follow Helena. Her boss was always gruff, but she’d been fair too. She trusted Helena; if she said this was it, there was no way out. It just was so unfair!

She wished she could call her dad, but her phone was locked in her locker. “Can you at least say goodbye for me? Tell him I love him,” she asked quietly.

Helena nodded. “Sure, I’ll do that. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but it’s what needs to happen. All of us have to go through this when the time comes. And your time has come.”

Silvia swallowed hard. Everyone has to die, right? But still—the cull rates. What’s the point? Volunteering her was the same as receiving a Letter. Once you were Girl meat, there was no way back. At least she wouldn’t be sent to a Processing Centre. Alexandra would take good care of her.

She just hoped her Tits and Cunt were worth it.

“If you don’t need my Ass or Shank,” Silvia muttered, “please give them to my dad.”

“We can make that happen,” Helena said.

“Thanks,” Silvia replied automatically. It felt stupid to say thanks, but what else was there?

They walked to the waiting room, catching Anne as she led three other women to the first room.

Helena rested her hands on Silvia’s shoulders. “Thanks for contributing to a better tomorrow. You’re doing your part for it, that’s for sure.”

“Silvia. Please follow me,” Anne said, holding the door open.

Silvia’s anger flared. She wanted to tell them both to fuck off—but what was the point? She glanced at the three other women in her group. They ranged from terrified to nervously fidgeting. She shouldn’t be so selfish; it would just scare them more.

Without a word, Silvia turned and stepped into the changing room. The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, sealing her fate.

Anne greeted them with a calm, professional smile, just as she had Nancy. She told them her role and then asked politely, “Please undress,” gesturing to the donation bins. Silvia yanked her blouse off and threw it into the bin with more force than necessary. The sound made one of the other women jump. She glanced at the woman and saw terror etched on her face. Silvia sighed, forcing herself to tone it down. What was the use of making it harder for these women?

The others were all older than her—one looked like she might be as old as 25. They were all clean-shaven, except for her. Fuck. How embarrassing. My Cunt would be horrible with all this hair.

Anne guided them into the second room and offered to shave her. Silvia hesitated, then nodded. Her hand was shaking too much to do it herself. Slowly, her suppressed anger began to morph into nervousness. She knew how she’d be slaughtered—that didn’t make looking forward to her death any easier.

While the first two women used the extractor, Anne worked on shaving her. She was careful and slow, and it helped calm Silvia’s nerves. The end result wasn’t bad—better than she’d expected. She’d never been this smooth before. She usually preferred to leave a bit of hair on top, something to play with, but this was… nice.

When it was her turn on the extractor, Anne helped her insert the tube. It was a strange experience. Silvia had never had anything in her butt before, and it didn’t feel that bad. An odd pang of regret hit her. She had never tried anal properly; maybe it could have been fun. Nancy had told her it was, but then Nancy had been way more sexually adventurous.

The machine was awkward but efficient. Warm liquid flowed in and out, flushing her clean. No smells, no visible mess—just the cold mechanics of preparation. When the machine beeped, Anne removed the tube, and Silvia stepped into the shower.

The soap smelled nice, though she knew it was special antibacterial soap designed to ready her body for a clean slaughter. She scrubbed herself thoroughly, feeling a surreal calm settle over her.

When she entered the third and final room, the desert night theme surprised her. She’d always wondered why they’d chosen it. Now she understood: as the rooms progressed, they became darker, ending here where small LEDs simulated stars. It was soothing, in a way. The benches and dim lighting invited reflection, not panic.

The first woman was called by Anne just around the time Silvia calculated that the body core temperature had dropped to the minimum level for proper slaughter.

Anne led her to Slaughter Room 1. Silvia knew the process: the first to check in at reception waited longest in the foyer waiting room but was first here. The last to check in spent less time waiting outside but sat longer in this final room. It was fair.

Anne returned and called the second woman, who headed to Slaughter Room 4. Alexandra’s side, Silvia thought. She’d probably end up in Slaughter Room 3—it made sense; she’d cleaned it herself just two hours ago. At least it would be pristine.

She glanced at the remaining woman sitting opposite her. The woman looked terrified, her hands trembling as she clutched them in her lap.

“Can I sit with you?” Silvia asked.

The woman nodded wordlessly. Silvia sat beside her and took her hand.

“Don’t be afraid,” Silvia said softly. “I watched my best friend. It’s fast and painless. Trust me—she died with a smile.”

“She did?” the woman asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.

“Yes. They make you cum, and you won’t feel a thing. I saw it. Trust me.”

“Are you not nervous?”

“I am. I’m going to be slaughtered. Of course, I’m nervous. But I’m not afraid. There’s nothing to be afraid of. This isn’t a Processing Centre. People here care.” She cared, even in her final minutes, she cared about another woman.

The woman nodded, squeezing Silvia’s hand as if drawing strength from her words.

Anne returned, calling the woman’s name. The woman squeezed Silvia’s hand one last time before letting go and walking through the door.

The waiting dragged on, each moment stretching unbearably. Silvia wasn’t afraid—just tired of the endless fretting. This is it, she thought. This is the end. And the waiting was harder than she could have imagined.

Melissa appeared at the door. “Silvia, we’re ready for you now. Please follow me.”

Silvia stood up, her legs feeling like lead. What else could she do? She could scream, she supposed, or shout at Melissa. She was the last one—there was no one left to scare.

But she didn’t. She didn’t want to go out in anger.

Melissa led her to Slaughter Room 3, as she had expected. At least she knew it would be spotless. Her thoughts repeated themselves.

“Hi, Silvia, I’m Alexandra, and this is Melissa, my assistant. We’ll be looking after you today.”

“Cut the crap. It’s not fair, and you know it,” Silvia said. The words burst out before she could stop herself. She needed to say it. It wasn’t fair.

“No, it’s not,” Alexandra agreed gently. “I’m sorry, but this is what needs to happen. Chip, please.”

Silvia turned around, her hair already tied up in a neat bun. She’d had to keep it that way in the butcher room. The chip reader beeped angrily.

“Alright,” Alexandra said. “Silvia, do you want me to explain the process, step by step, or not at all?”

“I know what happens. You slaughtered my friend—I was there,” Silvia snapped. She regretted the anger in her tone immediately. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“I know, Silvia. It’s all good. If you need to shout at us, that’s okay. Just… please hold together until we have you in the spreader bar. Alright?”

Shut… up! Nancy’s voice echoed in Silvia’s mind. Don’t overcomplicate things—just do it.

“No. I won’t make a scene. I don’t want to go out like that. I want to go in peace.”

“Okay,” Alexandra said softly, caressing her face. “Silvia, please lie on the bench for me, feet that way.”

Silvia took a deep breath. Her stomach felt hollow, her limbs heavy. She knew what would happen, and still, she was nervous. Not afraid, but worried about the end. About what lay beyond it.

Alexandra helped her onto the bench, strapping her feet to the spreader bar.

“Alright, I’m going to winch you up now. Melissa, please hold her head.”

As she was winched up, Silvia focused on her breathing. She tried to find a point where she could look—somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t Alexandra or Melissa. Her eyes drifted to the door to Slaughter Room 3, and as she stared at it, fear began to rise.

Alexandra moved the bench away while Melissa held her head, then slowly let it go, leaving Silvia hanging upside down.

“I’m going to place a hook into your butt so we can secure your arms,” Alexandra said.

The cold metal slipped into her butt, and Silvia shivered. Butt sex might have been fun, she thought fleetingly. Too late now.

Alexandra tied her arms to the hook. It was frightening; she was now in the same position as every carcass she’d ever seen in the butcher room—hooked, arms tied. Soon, her head would be in the incinerator, and her carcass limp in the butcher room.

“We’re ready to go,” Alexandra said. “Don’t be afraid—it’ll be over very soon.”

Silvia tried to focus on her breathing. Her heart pounded in her chest, a wild drumbeat she couldn’t ignore.

Melissa opened the door, and Alexandra pushed Silvia into the slaughter room. Alexandra knelt beside her, her voice soft.

“You’re very brave, Silvia. I’m proud of you.”

Silvia swallowed hard. She hadn’t cried. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe there was no point. She knew what was coming.

Melissa moved the blood and guts container into place. Alexandra stayed close. “Do you want to say anything before we begin?”

“What’s there to say?” Silvia asked. Her voice was cold, edged with anger she couldn’t quite suppress.

Melissa handed Alexandra a brand-new knife, still in its packaging. Alexandra unwrapped it carefully and knelt beside Silvia’s head.

At least it’s a new knife, Silvia thought bitterly. A butcher’s knife was personal, something every butcher owned and cared for. The first lesson she’d learnt. You never touched the hilt of a butcher’s knife, only the butcher did. Fuck all that for nothing. She should have read the damn contract.

“Okay,” Alexandra said. “Melissa will place the vibrator on your clit. When you cum, I’ll cut you. You won’t feel a thing—I promise. Then it’ll be all over.”

The vibrator’s strong buzz shattered her thoughts. Alexandra’s hands massaged her breasts, sending waves of sensation through her body.

Silvia closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on the orgasm building within her. It would be her last, and she wanted to make the most of it. The faster she came, the faster it would end.

Her life felt like a string of disappointments. She’d tried to do good, to help, but she had failed. She hadn’t found a boyfriend or girlfriend, had lost her mother and best friend, and hadn’t even finished her apprenticeship. Stop it, she told herself. Shut… up! Just let go.

The waves of lust mounted, faster and faster, drowning her thoughts. She moaned loudly, her body writhing as the vibrator worked its magic. Alexandra’s touch was… incredible.

The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. She was about to cum when she focused for a second, recalling her dad walking beside her in the woods, Nancy laughing, telling her to shut up. Then she let go, shouting as she came harder than she ever had before. Her head was pulled back sharply, intensifying her sensation.

Her orgasm spread out, and she just floated with it until it slowly ebbed away, leaving her breathless and her heart pounding like crazy.

Confusion flooded her. She was alive? Alive? Why?

When she opened her eyes, Alexandra, Helena, and Melissa were standing a few metres away.

Silvia blinked. Anger, disbelief, betrayal—everything crashed into her at once.

She stared at the blood and guts container. It was clean. Completely clean.

“What… why... why didn’t you cut me?” she asked, her voice breaking. Panic edged into her tone. What is this? Are they torturing me?

“But I did,” Alexandra said softly, kneeling beside her, touching her shoulder.

Now Silvia felt it—the sting of a clean cut radiating from her shoulder blade. She tried to see but couldn’t.

Alexandra held her hand in front of Silvia’s face, showing a bright red smear of blood on her fingers.

“See? You felt nothing,” Alexandra said softly. Her tone was gentle, almost comforting.

Silvia stared at the blood, her mind struggling to catch up. She hadn’t felt any of it. She wasn’t dead. Why?

“She’s taking this a lot better than you did, Alex,” Helena said, amused. “Seriously, you were furious. I was not sure letting you out of the spreader bar was good for my health.”

“Mel just cried non-stop, sobbing like a baby,” countered Alexandra, crossing her arms.

Melissa shot her a pointed look. “The story I heard was that Hels pissed herself. Better than crying any day!”

“Slander,” Helena said dismissively. Then she turned to Silvia with a sly grin. “Welcome to being a Girl Butcher, Silvi. Show her, girls.”

Helena tugged her shirt aside, revealing an X-shaped scar on her shoulder. Melissa did the same, then Alexandra, each displaying the same mark.

“You’re one of us now,” Helena said. “A proper Girl Butcher... the good sort... the caring sort.” Silvia tried to keep up, but it was hard; she had accepted that she was going to die.

“Well, apprentice,” Helena laughed. “I told you we needed your Tits and Cunt… in the team.”

Silvia’s breath hitched, and the tension broke. She sobbed, loud and uncontrollable. Tears streamed down her forehead as her body shook with relief. She wasn’t dead. She was alive.

“There she goes. Let it run, Silvi. It’s a shock. I know,” said Alexandra, and she stroked her cheek. “We all went through it.”

“Let’s get her down and then get her properly drunk,” Helena added.

All three women helped Silvia down. She collapsed onto the floor, clutching her knees as the sobs wracked her body. Alexandra crouched beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The warmth was grounding, and Silvia cried into her. Somewhere between disappointment and elation, she felt more alive than she ever had before.

Helena handed her a bottle. “Drink, Silvi. You need it.”

Silvia hesitated, then took a long swig. The alcohol burned her throat, strong and biting.

Melissa snatched the bottle and poured some onto Silvia’s shoulder.

“Ah, fuck!” Silvia yelped, the pain sharp and searing.

“Hold still,” Melissa said, rolling her eyes. “Here, have another drink.”

Silvia took another deep swallow while Melissa bandaged her shoulder.

When Alexandra reached for the bottle, Silvia handed it over. Exhausted, she lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her shoulder ached dully now, a reminder of how close she had felt to death.

“Why did you do that to me?” she asked, her voice weak. “That was cruel.”

Alexandra stroked her leg gently. “For a lot of reasons. But the most important one? As a butcher, you need to understand your livestock.” Her voice was calm and measured. “You have to know what it feels like to be on the other side of the knife. You’ve felt it now, and you’ll never forget it. Every time you slaughter a woman, you’ll remember. You’ll understand her. And you needed to really know the cut doesn’t hurt.”

Silvia nodded, though the full experience hadn’t settled yet. She was still too overwhelmed to process it completely. But she understood the concept. She now really understood. She had seen the Processing Centre, and she had experienced it here. She understood.

“Give me the bottle again,” she said, sitting up. She took another deep drink. She needed it.

“Also,” Helena said, stepping forward, “we needed to make this knife yours. A knife isn’t just a tool—it’s personal. You will kill with it. Now, it’s tied to you in a way it will never be to anyone else.”

She held out the brand-new knife Alexandra had used. It lay flat on her palm, gleaming faintly, with a faint smear of Silvia’s blood still on the blade.

“This is yours,” Helena said. “From now on, you’ll be my assistant, and you’ll truly learn.”

Silvia stared at the knife. It was beautiful. The handle bore her name in elegant golden inlay, just like the others’ knives. Helena was right—this knife belonged to her now. It had tasted her life’s blood first. She’d spent so much time learning about knives—how to sharpen them, care for them, respect them. And now, she had been given her own. They had accepted her.

“Nobody but you will ever use it,” Alexandra said, her voice steady. “Well… almost. If one of us gets their Letter, the knife will take their life—and the rest of us will destroy it.”

Silvia nodded slowly, turning the blade over in her hands. First blood. Last blood. The thought felt strangely right, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. It felt good.

Helena smirked. “We’ve still got a betting pool going on Melissa’s Letter. You’ve got, what, three years left in the Lottery? I hope you make it—it’s so hard to find good workers,” she teased.

“You won’t collect on that bet,” Mel shot back, rolling her eyes.

Helena laughed, taking the bottle for herself and drinking deeply.

“Alright, Silvi,” she said, standing and offering Silvia a hand. “Let’s pack your boobs and pussy away and get properly sloshed. As I said, I already called your dad to let him know you won’t be home tonight. He said to have fun and that he’d pick you up if you need him. You really have a nice dad.”

“Bitch! Seriously. That almost killed me the most,” she shouted at Helena angrily. But then a wave of sadness slammed into her, and she wailed, fresh tears bursting from her eyes. She had been so devastated not to be able to say goodbye.

Alexandra took her in her arms. Helena put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.” But then her voice turned firmer. “Just so you know, I let you talk to me like that for today... only.” Silvia took a deep breath. Fair enough—she was still her boss. “Now come. Let’s go,” Helena said pulling her up.

Silvia tried to stand but stumbled, her legs shaky and unsteady. She was still in shock.

Her three colleagues steadied her, helping her into the shower. The hot water felt amazing, washing away the stress and terror of the last thirty minutes. She let it soak into her, cleansing her in more ways than one.

Helena leaned against the wall, watching her. “So, assistant,” she said, her tone light but firm. “The other lessons:

“One: always read any contract before you sign. There’s nothing in it about volunteering—but you believed me because I made up a story and you think I’m a heartless monster.”

Well... that was true; she had thought it possible. Especially as she trusted her.

“Two: never just follow orders blindly. Doesn’t matter who they’re from.”

Fair enough.

“Three: Melissa got you, not Anne.”

She hadn’t really noticed. Anne did the conveying from waiting to slaughter. Handover. Double check. Legal requirements. Fuck.

“Four: the chip scanner refused your data. You didn’t notice. You’ll never miss that again.”

FUCK! It HAD beeped angrily. She hadn’t even fully noticed. A cold realisation struck her—what if it had been someone else in my place? A mistake? Never again. She would make sure the scanner did its job. Double, triple check.

“Now, get ready,” Helena said with a grin. “Drinks are on me.”

You bet they are. She planned on getting so sloshed Helena would go broke.

Daily Grind

Life as a butcher is hard sometimes. My father was right about that. Especially on days like this, it all starts getting a bit much.

I’ve been doing this since I had to slaughter my sister for my journeywoman piece. Now I’m a master. The shop sign says ‘Linda’s Fine Meats’ instead of ‘James’s Fine Meats’. Father had insisted on that, and again, he was right. Customers trust me more because, being a woman myself, they expect better products. Only a woman knows a woman’s body.

Father has retired, I had married, and my wife and I even managed to produce two sons. An unheard record and something that was even published in our little newspaper.

One of them will in, maybe 12 years, take over the shop. Right now, I’m was looking forward to retirement.

It was Graduation Selection Day. The worst five percent of final-year pupils, plus anyone who failed to graduate, would come and line up to be slaughtered. Their parents would bring them, or in most cases, they came themselves, so as not to face their parents right away and have it over with.

It was normally like 4 to 6 that would come. Some parents would bring them to the Processing Centre instead. Feeling that they didn’t deserve a good slaughter and wanted the anonymity of the Processing Centre to wipe out the failure of their daughters.

The Processing Centre isn’t nice, and it's pretty rough on the meat. I don’t like it. I prefer if the Girls come to me and we make something nice out of them. They might have failed academically, but their bodies still could make some good cuts. The Processing Centre was a waste of good meat.

“Linda Love. The first one just arrived.” My wife kissed my cheek. I smiled. At least this part of my life was nice and something I looked forward to. Tasha had been my sister's best friend, and when she came to get some of her meat, something happened. It was when I handed her the wrapped up left Tit of my sister and our hands touched…. Maybe it was a last gift from my sister to me. At least that is how we both saw it.

She had invited me over, and I brought her other Tit. We ate them together, and I was happy with the result. Hanging my sister and cutting her Tits off while she was still alive had really improved the taste and quality. Firm, juicy and her nipple still stiff from her last orgasm as she strangled.

It had not been easy to do that to my sister, hear her gurgled screams, look into her pain-filled eyes, as she hung there, while I cut her Tits off. But we both had known that would be the way it would be. Slaughter for the counter, not for the livestock. She didn’t want the shop, and Father had made it clear it would be her who was my Journywoman piece of work. I believe she would be happy with the result. I had made sure she was almost gone before cutting.

Still. I had cried a lot afterwards, and Tasha had held me, and a half a year later, we were married and inseminated.

My wife ran the counter when the boys left her some time, and I ran the backend of our butcher shop. My Mother had never worked in the shop, so my sister, Father and I had needed to do everything. I was happy my wife took an active part in our life and business. She had watched some slaughters, but my wife wasn’t built for the bloody work. She was good at cutting or mincing the meat in the front end, but that was the extent of it. That was fine with me.

I sighed and got up from the breakfast table. It would be a long day. First, I had to slaughter all these Girls, and then butcher their meat. Their parents would want fresh cuts. But that also meant that at the end of the week, we could put the Holiday Sign into the window and go to the beach house my wife's parents had. They would take care of the boys, and we would take care of ourselves. I smiled, looking at my wife's arse. We hadn’t had some adult time just for us and being loud for some time.

“Stop looking at my butt and get these Girls out of their misery. Hop Hop,” my bossy wife said, not even looking at me.

As I went downstairs, I smacked her arse hard, and she just rolled her eyes, but I could see the smile.

The first Girl was shaking. She was already naked, sitting in the little room.

“Oh hi Saskia. Didn’t make it?” I asked her. Everyone else knew everyone.

She shook her head. “I fucked up in the test. Totally,” she looked haunted around. “Lind, can we get going. I came here cause my parents told me if I fucked it up, they would sell me to the dog food Processing Centre.”

I made a face. “Urg…that’s a bit harsh. I know your parents, and you are over 18…so you can choose.”

She stood up and came inside the door, and I closed it. She exhaled deeply. When she was over the threshold and the door was closed, she was mine; her parents couldn't do anything anymore.

“Yes….but you don’t know my mother. She said she would personally shove me into the dog food shredder. She wanted me to become something in life…and I …it didn’t work out.”

“Well, Saskia…” I looked at her body. “You will make good meat. Your Tits are on the right side to be nicely roasted. You have good muscles. All in all you will become good meat.”

“That wasn’t really my plan in life.”

I smiled, but knew that this was just the first of a lot of Girls telling me that they would have wanted to be…I don’t know a ballerina, a pilot, or whatever. It was always the same; they talked a lot before they died, trying to tell you that this wasn’t what they wanted.

I really didn’t understand that, to be honest. Who would dream of becoming meat? What girl's ambition would it be to be cooling down in my vitrine and eaten?

While Saskia told me about her life's unfulfilled dreams, I pushed her towards the gallows. She froze for a second as she saw what her end was. “I will slow hang you. You want a vibrator in you?”

She gulped, looking at the thin metallic noose that was connected to the winch. “You’re the first in, and looking at you, this will be best for your cuts. If possible, make sure you come at least once.”

“I …I….” she started and couldn’t finish. That was normal. I took charge and zip-tied her hands together, turned her around and stood her under the gallows. “But…” I put the metal noose around her. Her eyes widen in shock and fear. I activated the winch, and she had to get onto her toes so as not to strangle. Now she had better things to do than talk, no air left for that. Tears ran down her face. Lifting one of her legs in inserted a nice vibrator that would massage all her good spots inside of he and her clit, while slowly inflating. That would make a good stuffed Cunt. Later I would cut her legs off just before she was gone. They had good muscles and right now I got them to work. Yeah she would turn out good. Maybe I take her Tits off too. We will see.

I left her alone; she would take about half an hour until her legs were too weak and she would start to strangle herself to death. Time for another cup of coffee, before the rush. I knew from experience that she would have at least one really good orgasm. Oxygen deprivation, strangulation and the vibrator, it did the trick.

Was it better than the dog food shredder? Well, for the meat, it was. For Saskia? If she were pushed headfirst, she would be gone in seconds, feet first, at least a minute of feeling being ripped apart. This way, she would make some really good meat. A nice, wide-open Cunt, fresh juicy Tits, good muscled shanks. She would sell well. Definitely a better outcome than dog food.

My wife kissed me and gave me a cup of coffee. “And?”

“Saskia Derringer. I’m slow-hanging her. She’s first, so I can take my time. Get some good cuts out of her, before the run starts.”

My wife pulled a face, but I cut her off before she could start. She probably wanted to complain about the slow hang and how long it took. “She’ll be fine. I put the expanding vibrator in her. You could already get the stuffing ready?”

“You really should…”

“Darling. Please.” I exhaled. “There will be a lot of them today. You can either help me slaughter them or stop complaining. I love you. But…”

“Fine.” My bossy wife's voice shifted into annoyed mode. Fine was bad. Really bad. ”I’ll get it started.” She stopped at the door. “Will you want to roast one of them? Do we need more stuffing?”

I had a thought. “No. I don’t think so. I won't have the time. I made sure Saskia would be good meat; her parents threatened her with the dog food shredder.”

My wife bit her lips. “Yeah…at least this way she will be good meat. Dog food…. that's not nice. They don’t even have a dog, right?” She shook her head. “Some parents. Anyway, I go past Saskia and make her come, ok?”

“Sure, Darling. I’ll be down in five.”

I was down in two, without my coffee cup. The buzzer had gone off. More livestock. Tasha had made Saskia come, and she hung a bit more relaxed. I petted her. “Relax into it. You're doing really well. Look at your nipples, all erect and stiff. Good work. See if you can come one more time.”

Her eyes flicked with fear, pain and frustration, as she fought her own body to live just a tiny bit longer. Her struggle would make her meat better. Her leg muscles would be properly used before it was over. She gurgled something, and I nodded. “Yes, I know. It hurts, but the end result will be something you can be proud of. Trust me.”

There were three Girls in the entrance room, all with their mothers. Fathers rarely came to slaughters. Men were just too wussy in my opinion.

“Uhh… Linda.” One of the Girls asked, Maria Gianopulos, “Can we go in together? Please? We are friends forever and…”

Wonderful. That's all I really needed today on top of each other. Saskia was still strangling and now three at once. That would be some kind of work, and there would be tears and screams and all that. Not necessarily what I needed today.

“Listen…” I exhaled. Let's see if I could talk sense into them. “I can't slaughter you all at the same time. Even if you are in the same room. One of you will have to watch the other two being slaughtered before it's her turn…”

The Girls looked at their mothers. “It's fine, sweety.” Mrs Gianopulos said, squeezing her daughter's hand. “Just go one after the other. Linda will look after you. You know she does good work. It will be quick and painless.”

That’s what they all thought. As my father had said, as soon as the door closes, you do what you need to do to get the best meat out of the women you slaughter. That’s the only thing that matters. They would always think it's quick, it's painless, it's good. But nobody but the butcher, knew what really happened to them behind my butcher room door.

Julia spoke up, “We thought we could all hang together? Please. Maybe hold hands?”

Hang together? Yeah sure…I could probably do that. Put some rope on the rails and let them dangle. I sighed. Fuck it. Three less in one go. But…

I looked them over. “Strip, please. I need to check your meat quality. Hanging might not be the best…”

“That’s ok, Linda.” Julia's mother said. “We discussed that. We take them as they are. Our families will have dinner tonight to remember them, and we will buy any cut that won’t sell. I made space in the freezer in the morning. We knew it was coming. They didn’t do well at all. Happens.”

I nodded and sighed. What a waste of good meat. We will have to see what we can do when we were alone together inside, and reality took hold.

“Fine.” I did sound like my wife, did I? I would need her to help me set that up. “OK. Please get ready, undress, say your goodbyes, and then I'll come and get you when I’m ready. I will need your hands behind your backs in the handcuffs over there. Sorry, but… if we are alone, it’s not needed, but…”

All three Girls and the mothers nodded. They understood. “We won't fight you, Linda.”

I almost chuckled. “I know, but it makes it easier for you, too. You don't have to worry about what you do with your arms. Trust me.”

I left them alone to get ready. Saskia was on shaky legs; it wouldn’t be much longer. My wife was making the Cunt stuffing next to her while keeping her motivated.

“I think she is ready. She had another.”

“Thanks, Darling. Ok Saskia. Hold on for another 10, and I'll take your Tits and legs off. That will finish you. Your shanks will be amazing. I will make sure your mother buys them and makes them properly. Promise.”

There were a lot of tears in her almost purple face, her eyes showed pain, and she gurgled, fighting against her weakening leg muscles. Her lower abdomen had a bulge from the expanding Cunt stretcher. I switched the expansion off and the vibrator to a higher power; maybe we would get another one out of her.

“Darling. I need to hang three of them at once. They want to go together. So I will string them up next to each other.”

My wife paused and looked at me. “Hanging, just like that? That’s bad for …”

“Stop. Darling. Please Stop. I'm tired already, the parents will buy them whole and….”I shrugged my shoulders.

“Well, it’s their meat…What do you need from me?”

“Just handling. I get the nooses ready, can you please get three chairs from upstairs, the plastic ones, and we need to wipe them down and…”

“Yeah, got it. I know the regulations. These three Girls could be more convenient…”

It took us a few minutes before we had everything ready. My wife came up with the idea to not have them hang in a row, but in a triangle, so they could look at each other. If it came to things like that, my wife was a romantic. Still loved her dearly.

Saskia was almost out, so I went to her. “OK, Saskia, that’s the end. You done well.” I took the electric bone saw and started to cut into her left leg. Her eyes sprang open, and she tried to scream, but there was no air anymore. After a moment, her leg came off, and she started to bleed fast; that was good, but I had to get her other leg and her tits now fast. Her other leg was off as fast, and the less weight would reduce her strangulation, but the blood loss was fast and took her. Her eyes rolled over, and I went for the knife to get her Tits off before they lost too much blood. I wanted them firm and juicy.

“Good work, Darling. They look very good.” My wife complimented me as she took the legs and hung them up to drain. Saskia was gone by then. I could do the rest later.

I wiped my hands clean on my apron and went to the door to get the three Girls. Their mothers had left, and tears were in their eyes. Well, last goodbyes were always teary. That’s why I left them alone with that.

Another one had joined the queue; her mother must have gone already. “Hi Helga, it will be a while. Get undressed, fill out the form, and I'll take you as soon as I can. You three, please come in.”

I closed the door behind them before they gasped when they saw Saskia; it would just freak out Helga in the meantime.

“Come over here, and we'll get going. Saskia is gone. Don’t worry about her.”

“Will we…” Julia asked, pointing at Saskia, but couldn't finish the sentence.

I took a look. Saskia was legless and had two large holes where her Tits had been. Her head was purple, and her tongue hung out. Yes….not good, she needed to be butchered, half done wasn’t a good look.

“No. You just hang.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Don’t worry about her, focus on yourself. It doesn’t produce the best meat, but that's what you wanted.”

“Did you cut off her Tits while she was still alive?” asked Tanja shyly.

“Yes. Better meat. Look at her Tits, they are really good.” I pointed to Saskia’s Tits laying on the table.

Tanja stared at me in shock. Julia's lip was quivering. Maria was shaking.

Tasha came forward. “Love! Stop scaring them. Girls…dying isn’t nice, and it is never totally pain-free either. Let’s get you hanging, and then it's over fast. Come on.”

“But…” Julia complained, backing away. And that’s why they had handcuffs on.

I took Julia by her arm and manoeuvred her under one of the nooses. She didn’t want to go, but I was stronger, almost forcing her to step up onto the chair. They were never able to do it themselves.

“Girls. You wanted to hang together, and I made the effort, so let’s get on with it.... Please.” I said as I put Julia’s noose over her head. My wife held out her hand towards Maria. Maria gulped but stepped forward to her noose, my wife helping her onto the chair.

Sometimes I think Tasha is better with livestock than me, but then she would not kill. She helped prepare them, but not with the killing. Fine with me. I loved my wife and …well, I knew who wore the pants in our marriage.

I turned to Tanja, who took a deep breath and stepped forward by herself. I helped her onto the chair and then put the noose around her.

“That’s good, Girls. Well done.” My wife said and gave me The Look. Yeah, sure, I could play nice for some seconds. At least I could try.

“Good. Now. You can either step off by yourself, or I can pull the chairs…What do you want?”

Maria looked at her friends. She closed her eyes, pressing them shut once, breathing.

“We do everything together.“ She said her voice was shaky but determined. “Julia, Tanja...I love you.”

Julia nodded. “I love you all too.” Tanja just nodded and swallowed, tears in her eyes.

And that’s why this is a bad idea. Livestock never operates, never does what needs doing and always fucks up.

“Ok, Girls,” I said loudly. “On three. One. Two. Three.” But they didn’t move. Just looking, panicking at their feet. Shaking, crying, sobbing. Looking at each other.

That had been so fucking clear from the start.

Annoyed, I pulled Julia’s chair away. Julia gasped as she fell the few centimetres, and the noose tightened and changed her gasp into a gurgle. My wife stepped out of the way as I kicked Maria’s chair from under her.

“No...” Tanja wailed for a second, looking shocked at her friends kicking their legs at the end of their ropes. Then she closed her eyes and stepped forward herself.

“Good Girl,” I said. At least someone knew what she was supposed to do. My wife moved her chair out of reach as she automatically tried to get back on it. That was normal. Built-in human response.

All three were hanging now, legs kicking, bodies turning slowly in the nooses, faces darkening with blood, gurgling noises. The usual, except three sources instead of one. It was never as peaceful as they imagined. Normally, I would see if I could get the hanging girl off, but with three…

“What are we doing with them? Just hang? The meat is not going to be very good.” My wife stroked Tanja’s body, which buckled in the noose with her legs kicking.

“Yeah...That’s what they and their parents wanted. I tried to talk them out of it. I’m not happy about that either. A bit of a waste in my opinion.”

“They didn’t even cum. It’s a bit sad.” She went around, stroking each of the strangling, kicking girls. “Relax into it. Let it happen. Stop fighting. It's over. This is your end. Let go. It's faster if you just let go.”

My wife was a softy, but only with livestock. If I fucked up, oh boy, could she dish out.

I went back to finish off Saskia. She would be fabulous. Good meat, good cuts. She may not have graduated, but she would make excellent meat.

The three Girls took a while to die. Tanja was almost out of it. She had stepped forward herself, and that meant she could let go more easily. The other two clung to life as much as they could. Yes, they were together, but they were all busy dying, not noticing each other. Dying was a solitary task. Each was focused on their own burning lungs, the rope squeezing their necks. Their own panic, their own body, their end. There was nothing they really could share…except space in the vitrine.

The bodies cramped, buckled, their feet trying to find any hold. It was good that we had hung them far apart so they couldn’t reach each other and prolong it even more.

I had taken Saskia out of her noose and transferred her to the table. Her head came off, and then I took the time to extract her nicely stretched Cunt. I wanted at least one Girl to be properly done.

While I butchered the rest of Saskia down to cuts, my wife filled her Cunt and sewed her lips shut. I was happy I had taken my time with her.

As we moved Saskia’s cuts to the front into the vitrine, the three Girls had finally stopped struggling and just hung in their nooses. Turning slowly, their bodies limp. That had taken longer than normal. Maybe because they were together, or…doesn’t matter. They needed to be gutted and bled out and….I wanted another coffee, but that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

We took them down, hung them upside down. I cut their heads off to start bleeding them out. Let’s get the next one.

“Ok, Helga, let’s go.” I said as I opened the door and waved her in. Two others had already joined.

Helga turned a bit white as she saw the blood and the carcasses. Nothing I could do about.

“Let’s have a look at you. Hmmm....” She was on the small side. Fucking and guillotine.

“Darling, can you get my strap-on, please?” I shouted, hoping my wife would hear me.

“Strap-on?” Helga asked, confused.

I pushed her towards the guillotine. “Yes, come. Bend forward. Come, Helga, please. I don’t have all day. There are two more already.”

Helga was reluctant. It was so much easier to be a male butcher. Dick built in. After pushing her into the lunette and securing her hands, my wife came with the strap-on.

She had also brought a selection of dildos that we used only here in the butcher room. Well, a male Butcher couldn’t change girth or length as I could. I pushed my fingers into Helga and selected the largest. That would work well for her.

I lubed her up with good cold-pressed extra virgin olive oil and then pressed the dildo into her. Tasha had laughed her pretty head off when I bought the oil. “They are certainly not virgins anymore.”

With all this stress, the only thing keeping me sane was my wife's humour.

I smacked Helga's butt. “Relax and enjoy. I want you to really relax. Let go. That’s best for what I want your meat to become. I'll take you out when you come.”

While I slowly pumped into Helga and played with her clit, the buzzer went off three more times. I wished they’d stagger them out more. I mean, they were all going to be meat anyway. Why did they hurry and try to get them all in that early? But then I knew too that most families wanted to have their daughters' meat for dinner. It made sense, but honestly, it didn’t make my life any easier.

Tasha was in the front, selling Saskia while I was still trying to finish Helga. I needed to get to the three hanged Girls.

Finally, Helga had stopped sobbing and got into it. She pushed back against my strokes, and her moans had replaced crying. Good. At least someone was helping.

My wife stuck her head in. “Saskia’s parents are complaining and want to talk to you.”

“Yeah...I’m busy,” I complained, pushing into Helga. This wasn’t exactly hands-free work, especially not with someone uncooperative.

The Look. “Love...” She just said, and I rolled my eyes and pushed harder into Helga's cunt, hitting her cervix and making her cry out with pain and pleasure.

“In five,” I shouted back and doubled my efforts, putting a hand to her clit. She was almost there.

“Fuck...I’m com...” but the blade cut her announcement as well as her head off.

Her body crumbled forward and slid off my dildo. Quickly, I jammed some meat hooks into her ankles and hung her up.

Saskia’s parents were livid. “We didn't give our consent.”

“Yeah...she was old enough to decide for herself. She wanted to come to me instead of being put into the dog food shredder.”

Her mother gasped. “That was just....I would never...I wanted to motivate her.”

“Well, you did. She became really good as meat. Her stuffed Cunt and her shanks will be amazing. My wife can pack them up for you. Anything else?”

“Can we have her head?” Her father asked

I rolled my eyes. Extra shit. All. The. Fucking. Time.

I went and got it for them, and they left. My wife gave me a quick kiss, and that helped a lot. I sighed and went back to at least get a start on butchering the three Girls. Taking their legs and arms off, gutting.

I had a quick look at my waiting room. Four more. That was a lot. I hoped those were the last ones. I would run out of space soon. I saw Gisela in the room. Yeah, I had an idea what she would become.

“Gisela, come.”

“I was before her,” complained a girl I didn’t know.

“This isn’t kindergarten. You wait until I get to you.” I snapped back and pulled Gisela into the room.

“OK, Gisela, I have to make it quick. But I know the best way to get the best meat out of you. Come.”

I had her hanging upside down in no time. I opened her stomach directly. She screamed and threshed around, as I gutted her, but that was expected. She was a larger girl, and her liver and other internals would be a premium. When I came to her heart, it had already stopped. Two more buzzers. What the fuck was wrong with these Girls? It’s Graduation Day. Why were they failing so much and making my life harder?

Gisela's organs and Julia’s legs, Maria’s tits and Tanja's arms went to the front, and I got the girl I didn’t know.

She was slender, with nothing much on her, her muscles underdeveloped. That would be a challenge normally. But today, she would be whatever I had time for.

This sucked, and I hated it. At least with Saskia and Gisela, I felt good about it. Good meat, good cuts. But this one? Ribs, soup bones, maybe some very lean mince....

It would be a long day, and it had just started. I still had to butcher them all down, take the tongues out of their heads, debone the hands and feet, and hope no one else would ring the buzzer. I looked around. What a mess. I still had to clean all this up. And then there was the spit roast for the wedding tomorrow, but the bride’s mother wouldn’t come in before midday to ride the spit. At least some break.

And the buzzer went off again…Oh! Come! On!

But holidays were near, and my wife had promised to let me sleep in tomorrow morning. Something to look forward to.

Mindy and Melissa led them back to the stables, where they would be fed. But there were no stable hands. There were other riders. Males, females, older and younger ones.

Mindy tethered them all except Andrea to a post.

“A pony has to trust unconditionally. These are seasoned riders. They and I will now look after you.”

She pulled only slightly at Andrea’s bridle to make her step forward. “She is the lead Mare of this herd” Mindy stroked her ass. “Andrea, listen. You have two words per day. They are only for helping your herd. Nothing else. Not for yourself. Only for them. One word more, and it’s a strike. Understood? Stomp. Good filly.”

Andrea was elated that she had worth as a pony, worth she had not ever felt before. One strike? She already had one, and she didn’t want to take her last breath chained to a brothel wall. She had to be careful. Only two words. Was ‘Giddy up’ one or two?

“Melissa, please get the blinkers.”

Melissa got a small black box and opened it. It contained contact lenses that were white on the inside and had a horse eye painted on the outside.

She took one of the lenses and moved it toward Andrea’s eye. She didn’t like that one bit. She tossed her hair angrily and snorted. For one second, she shook her head inwardly at how far she was from her old self.

“Now hold still, my little, cute filly. It won’t hurt, and you have to set an example for your herd.”

Melissa patted her nose, and she blew out. Andrea knew that it was either follow or get punished. She had to lead; the others depended on her. She could feel them being nervous, even George.

Melissa moved the lens towards her eye. Andrea held still as she inserted it into her eye. It didn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable; the only thing it did was make her see nothing but white in that eye. She would not be able to see anything. Her stomach cramped up.

Blind trust. They would have to learn blind trust. Become even more pony, even further removed from human free will. It was either become a pony or die in a brothel. At least as a pony, she had something to give. She had the others, her herd, to look after. It was something.

“See! Didn’t hurt at all. And you look so pretty with a horse eye. Now, the second. I will look after you today.”

And she put the second lens in, and Andrea only saw white. She was blind. She took multiple deep breaths to steady herself.

She felt Melissa’s hand on her, petting her. For a second, she was startled by the touch, but she breathed through it. “Good pony. I’m here. I will look after you. Let’s bring you back to your herd.”

Melissa pulled at her bridle and moved her forward. Andrea took careful, small steps but followed Melissa’s lead. Walking without seeing anything was scary. You had to totally trust the rider leading you.

Melissa constantly talked to her until Andrea felt another naked hip. She could not tell who it was, but she knew it was one of her herd. She could smell them. She tried to be as calm as possible. The others had to trust her.

A male older rider with a beard came forward and patted Julia. “You are a pretty pony. Now, be a good pony, and trust me. Come.”

Julia looked at Andrea, who was standing still and as relaxed as she could be. She would follow her example.

When the lenses were in, she felt unsure and lost. She breathed in the scent of her lead mare, which helped her find the courage to take the steps she could not see until she felt a naked hip and the smell of the other ponies.

A younger female rider claimed Maria. She was not afraid; not seeing something was nothing new to her. She had spent many nights in the total darkness of electricity blackouts in the slums. At least here, she was saved from predators. She felt safe enough, especially as she liked the voice of that rider and the way she spoke to her constantly.

George was selected by a tall, blond rider with a strong build. George felt nervous, eyeing the rider.

After he had covered the two fillies, he had felt like the king of the world. His seed was in them. He had claimed them. They were his. But now he was worried again. He knew that his owner could be female or male. His wife or his husband. He would have no choice, and he remembered the Vet’s words. He would have to learn to service a male with his holes.

NO! He stomped. Stopped and pulled at his rein. He stopped himself from shouting. He knew he would get a whipping or, worse, a strike, if he talked. But he needed to make it clear he didn’t want a fucking male rider.

“Right. I see,” said the rider, and punched him in the stomach. Hard, fast. George doubled over. Then the guy pulled him up by his bridle and slapped his face.

“That’s all you can take? I thought with your muscles you could take more. Oh yes, just stare at me like that. You want to fight? Yes? Sure.”

George was a bit perplexed as the guy grabbed him, turned him around, and then opened his bound hands.

“Come on. Fight me. You win; you get to keep your arse virginity. I win; I will have you tonight.”

George moved his shoulders to get the stiffness out of them. Better. He squared up, raised his fists and punched the guy. The guy ducked, Georges' fist way over his head, while the guy delivered a fast uppercut to his stomach. George stepped back, holding his hand over his stomach. He was confused. He was a good fighter; he knew that. He had won all the fights against his house slaves.

The fillies got nervous. Their riders talked to them, telling them that their colt wanted to fight, but they were safe. They were petted and spoken to softly, too.

George breathed hard and was even more confused. He had tried to fight this guy for at least a minute now, but he had not even once laid a hand on this guy. George's stomach and ribs were hurting from the blows he had taken in return. He didn’t understand what was happening. He was an undefeated fighter.

“Henry. Stop playing around and end this. We don’t have all day.” Mindy complained, slightly annoyed.

“He needs that. Trust me, Mindy.” The rider focused back on George. “Listen, Colt, I could have done that at any stage, but I wanted to give you a chance.”

Suddenly, the rider stepped forward too fast and too far to the side for George to follow. He delivered two fast, brutal blows to his stomach, followed by a kick to the balls.

George went down. His balls felt like they were busting. Breathing hard.

“You are not a fighter, not even close. In the arena, you would be dead in less than 10 seconds. So, be a pony. Be a good colt and become a good stallion.”

George didn’t know what to do. He had no chance against this guy, and he didn’t understand how that was possible. He didn't know what to do.

He stood up, but the guy just smashed his fist into his face again, sending him back to the ground.

He didn’t want to be hurt anymore.

He lifted his hand, but it got smacked away.

He was wary of this rider. Nobody had ever beaten him like this. Worse, he did not know how to end it.

Andrea knew she had to do something. She recognised George's type—someone who didn’t know how to give up. Someone who rode on the coattails of their parents' fame and status. She had often met people like him at parties. She even remembered him vaguely; she had never been important enough to be invited to the parties with people like him.

With her being completely blind, there was nothing she could do but use one of her precious words.

She pulled at her lead and shouted “Submit” in George's general direction.

She felt a hand stroke her butt, and it made her flinch. Not seeing anything made her skittish. Melissa whispered, “Good lead mare. Looking after your herd. Be careful; only one word left for today. I would hate to see you sold to a brothel.”

“Your lead mare is right. Submit.” Henry stepped towards him, and George flinched, lifting his arm protectively. “You don’t know how? I see. Sit on your haunches and open your mouth. That’s better. You bite me. I take your balls right now. Understood?”

George sat on his knees and the rider came forward, took his bit out, and then opened his trousers. George began to shake, not with rage but with a sense of loss he had never felt before. He had never lost a fight, and he feared the consequences. He knew very well what he had done with losers.

The rider took his dick out and laid his flaccid member into his mouth. Tears ran down George’s face, and his body was shaking, but he didn’t dare to move or close his mouth. The dick lay on his tongue, and he could taste his sweaty maleness.

The rider nodded and patted his head. “Good pony. You are a good colt. Mindy, the lenses, please. Thanks. Now, hold still. I will look after you for today.”

Henry inserted both lenses and waited a bit before he took his dick out of the colt’s mouth and touched him on the shoulder to help him up.

George followed, and his hands were tied loosely again. Not even a real bond. He let his head hang in shame. How?

The rider must have noticed that he had his hand on his bridle and led him carefully forward. “Your old life is done. Forget it. Build a new one as a good pony.”

George felt immense relief when his hip touched another naked body. One of the herd. He was still shaking, not from the beating now, but from the realisation that his old life had been a lie. Nothing but an empty lie.

Mindy spoke up loudly. “Good. Riders. Take your assigned pony, clean it up properly, feed it and take it for a walk. Keep the herd together.”

All the ponies were spooked when they were first touched by the riders. They couldn’t see anything, and it was scary to be touched when you didn’t see anything. But the riders talked to them and led each pony a few steps away from the others.

Julia got nervous, being away from the other ponies. She whinnied a bit. Andrea heard her and whinnied back, as did the rest of the herd, but not as loud as their lead mare. Julia blew out and settled down while the young woman attending her petted and talked to her and began to brush her down.

Melissa petted Andrea’s tits affectionately. “You are a good pony. Such a responsible lead mare.” Andrea felt good. For the first time ever, she felt good.

They were brushed down first. Their bodies were sponged down with warm, soapy and good-smelling water. All the dirt from the last days came away, leaving them clean and fresh. Their riders talked to them, telling them what they were doing and what they should do.

“My big colt, I will remove your ball stretchers and clean you properly. I think you wore them long enough. Would you like that?”

George nodded, he wasn’t sure how to react, what to do. The rider petted his butt. “Good pony. I will get the tool. I will be back in a second. “

He had heard the rider who had subdued him; he was friendly to him, and it confused George even more.

He was standing and waiting. And standing. And waiting. Standing. Waiting.

George felt alone. He could not see anything. He could hear the other riders talking to their ponies, but he was alone. He had never been alone. He was tied to a post and alone.

He whimpered, and he didn’t even know that it had been him. Then he heard Andrea whinny, and it gave him hope. He felt better with her around. He could stand.

He heard a clucking noise, and finally, the rider returned. “Sorry that took longer. Are you OK? I’m back. All good. Now, let’s get your balls free. That’s a good colt. Ok, almost done. There you are. I’m going to properly clean them now and then put some cream on them. Good pony. Oh, they look nice. Hanging low and full. Let’s get this ugly hair off them, shall we?”

Somehow, this made George feel good. This was not another male on his balls but a rider caring for his pony.

“OK, Pony. I’m taking off your bridle, and I’m opening your hands. I want you on your fours. Good. Be a good pony and stay where you are. Will you? Good. I will be back soon, washing you more, massaging you, and oiling you up. You would like that, wouldn’t you? Yes, you would. Good pony.”

The ponies were all put on their fours, and their bridle came off. They stood there for a while. They could not see anything. They had to trust their riders. Occasionally, one of her herd would neigh or whinny, and Andrea would answer.

Andrea was giving up. There was not much left of her old self anyway. What did it matter anymore? As a pony, she was cared for, the riders cared for her, for all the ponies. They cared, not because she was rich or beautiful or had said the right thing. They wanted to care for their pony, and the only thing they wanted from it in return was obedience. Follow their easy rules.

Maria felt the same. Easy rules, no complicated scheming to get the most out of something. Just easy rules. Be a pony.

You were a pony; you got food, shelter, pats and soft words. You had to get covered or fucked, but that wasn’t so bad. She had liked it after the first shock of the physicality of the act had passed.

Julia was still processing. Trying to understand where her world and this world had been separated and where she belonged.

She had been washed, and cream had been applied to her welts. Her whipping still hurt, but nobody was angry with her. She had been punished, and now everything was good again. Now she was being treated the way she had always imagined a pony should be treated. She needed to understand this.

The riders returned, announced themselves with a clucking noise, and called their pony’s name.

The riders washed their filly’s hair with warm water and a shampoo that smelled like flowers. The ponies enjoyed this new treatment, and they stayed happily in place on their fours, getting used to not seeing anything and the unexpected touches of the riders.

George was cleaned, scrubbed and then massaged with oils. The powerful hands of the rider relaxed his muscles, and his voice calmed him. He had been beaten and humiliated like never in his life before, but the rider treated him with care and soft and good words. He couldn’t understand. Why had he lost, and why was he cared for and looked after?

After the ponies were clean, they got new bridles; they could taste the new bit and smell the oiled leather. They also got a leather harness that slung around their body and was fastened tight, making them feel held. It left their genitals, arseholes and breasts exposed. The riders attached their arms not to their backs but to the sides, slightly angled and about breast level.

They were fed, and it was different from when the stable hands fed them. While they were fed, the riders played with their ponies’ genitals and nipples.

It was irritating as it sent mixed signals. None of the ponies knew what to concentrate on, and worse, they were not allowed to cum. The riders only aroused them and played with them. The riders also talked to them about how they responded to the arousal, how wet their pussies were, and how stiff and hard his dick was. It was distracting, and the ponies weren’t sure why this was done.

After feeding, the riders took them out, still frustrated, still aroused, still denied release. None of them had ever experienced anything like that.

The riders put them on leads and started to walk them. It was hard at first to put one hoof down on the ground they couldn’t see, but soon it got easier as the riders didn’t push or hurry them along, just leading them and talking them through it.

Andrea did her best to let them know they were still together, but she herself struggled to let Melissa control her. For her, it had been the last shard of her humanity she had to give up. Her free will had been taken, her hands had been taken, her words had been taken, her vulva had been taken, her eyesight had been taken, and now they took her last shard, her independence. She now depended absolutely on the rider holding her bridle.

She tossed her mane, and with it, she threw off the last shard she held onto. She would have to be a pony, nothing more, nothing less. She knew this now, and she had to accept the fact. But that also meant she could let go of her history, and she didn’t need to plan a future. Somehow, it was easier to let all of this go. Andrea knew what that meant, but for now she concentrated on putting one hoof in front of the other.

After a while, the ponies just walked next to their riders. There was nothing else they could do but trust the riders.

When Andrea stomped to tell the rider she needed to drop manure, Melissa just pulled her onward. “You have to learn to drop in the morning and in the evening. Once you wear a tail plug, you won’t be able to drop whenever you like. I won’t be cleaning you all the time because you can’t hold it. Keep it in.”

She fought hard and long, as this walk seemed never-ending. The other ponies were made to hold it, too.

Finally, they stopped. “Drop Manure! “ Melissa commanded and then helped her to take the right position. “See, that’s a good pony.”

“Finished? Good. Let me brush you down and clean you, and you will get some food.”

She didn’t look forward to that strange feeding. Being fumbled with while eating, especially from a woman. She had never had any interest in women. But she knew, as well as George, that it was not her choice anymore, and so she submitted to it.

George didn’t mind being masturbated while eating. What he didn’t like was that he had been left aroused during the walk; He had blue balls by now.

But at least the ball stretchers were off; that felt so much better. However, he knew that the device had changed him. His ball sack now hit his legs when he moved. His sack was definitely longer now. And with that realisation set in, he had been physically altered, and when he thought about it, he had been changed mentally as well.

He would never be the son of a lord again. Not like he had been before. He would be a pony, or he would die in the arena or in a brothel. The rider just continued masturbating him, looking out that he didn’t come.

Julia was unsure how she should feel; this was all new to her. But the rider stimulating her was skilled, and he played with her. Lead her up to the jump over the hurdle, but then stopped her from taking the jump. That pushed her all the way down again, and it started again. It was confusing and frustrating.

Maria was confused by the female rider, too. She liked her scent and what she did with her vulva even if she was fed, but why was she not made to cum? She neighed and tossed her hair and stomped as she had learned, but the rider didn’t let her cum. What was she doing wrong?

Mindy’s voice rang out. “Stable them and give them their good night treat.”

Henry led George into his stall. He clipped his lead very short to the ring, so George couldn’t move much.

“I’m a man of my word. We made a bet. You lost. I know it’s your first time. Don’t worry, I will make you cum, and I will be careful the first time. Just make sure you’re a good pony and behave as you have learned.”

Henry undressed and took lube and smeared it over and into George’s arsehole as well as on his own stiff dick. He was looking forward to the challenge of taking this colt’s virginity and making him feel good about it. For Henry, it was always a struggle with himself. He wanted to take that colt hard. But he had to rein himself in to give him a good first time. This wasn’t the first colt that needed to be trained, and his method had always shown good results.

George was struggling and afraid. He had taken lots of girls up the arse, and they had always screamed and tried to fight him, even the slave girls. Most of them had bled afterwards. But he had never cared enough about slaves. He could always buy a new one.

He felt the cold lube being worked into his arsehole and a finger entering him. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange, invasive, like he was dropping manure and just hoped that nothing would come out. He could feel Henry’s fingers working against the tight arse muscle, stretching him slowly open. Tears of shame ran down his cheek.

“Oh, you are tight; lucky you, I will come fast.”

Two or more fingers were now in him, and the rider took his time and pushed his finger into him and out. Then they disappeared as the rider came closer, and he could feel his naked body against his and his stiff dick in his back. The rider’s hands were all over his body. Caressing him, teasing him.

“Don’t be afraid. I will be careful with you.” He bit him in his neck, and it was like an electric current ran through him. What was happening?

George felt so helpless, he had no sight, no arms, no voice and no free will. Even if he had all that, the rider taking him was stronger, and he had defeated him easily. There was nothing he could do.

The rider made George lean as much forward as his lead allowed and then began to push his dick against his arsehole. George let out a whimper as he felt him getting past his ring muscle. He had been claimed by a male for the first time, and he knew it wouldn't be the last time. He was a pony now.

Short, slow, and careful pushes, one after another, drove the rider’s dick deeper into him. George tried to push him out, but that only made him come more into him, and the only thing he could do was grunt. The pain he felt was just from the stretch of his ring muscle and manageable; he could feel his arsehole stretch and open up more and more, the pain diminishing.

“All in. You feel amazing.” Now he could feel something deep inside of him, the naked body of the rider pressed against him, his hot breath on his neck. Muscled arms holding him. “The vet wanted to break you in on a fucking machine. That’s just barbaric. This is better. More personal.”

The rider reached around and found his erect penis. George was not sure whether he should be embarrassed about this or not. He didn’t understand why his body reacted to this intrusion like that. “See, your body likes it. Just let go and let Henry make you feel like you have never before.”

The rider let his hands roam over his body and then started to masturbate him while he very slowly fucked his arsehole.

“I want you to cum like a good pony. Neigh and snort.” George’s brain was not online anymore. The unknown stimuli were too much for him. That firm hand masturbated him hard, the other hand squeezing his nipples painfully, the rider’s dick sliding in and out of him, hitting some spot inside of him he didn’t know…. It was too much and too new and…. He shouted, “fuck fuck fuck”

The orgasm felt so different. Not centred on his dick, but also somewhere deep in his groin. Leaving him with a totally new orgasmic feeling he had never experienced before. It had surprised him too much, and he still felt like he was sexually aroused and satisfied at the same time. Now the rider started to pound hard into him and then roared as he came deep into him.

After Henry had come, he leaned into George, holding him, feeling his body and his slightly shaking legs. He bit George’s neck carefully again and could feel George's reaction. “The intensity surprised you? I know, It can be pretty intense, especially when you don’t know it. But I will have to punish you for speaking; rules are rules. I’m sorry, George.”

The rider left him. He could feel his abused arsehole. When the rider returned, he gave him an intense whipping that made him cry and sob. After the whip had stopped tormenting his arse, he felt the rider embrace him. “Good colt. You did very well. Maybe next time you control yourself better.”

The rider untied his lead and retied it at the lower rank. George sank into his straw and sobbed as the cum ran out of his arse onto the straw.

He sobbed, not because he had been whipped, not because he had been fucked in the arse by another male for the first time. He didn’t sob because he had cum and liked it; he didn’t sob because he had lost the last shred of his old life. He sobbed because the girls he had taken had screamed and bled. He had not. He had orgasmed.

The fillies had heard everything, but they did not have much time to process it as the riders also claimed them.

The older rider attending Julia let his hands roam all over her and made her heart beat faster again.

“Oh, you are nicely wet, I shall have your vulva today. Bend forward, little beautiful palomino. That’s a good pony. You may cum as much as you like.”

She felt something pushed into her and fill her out. Much better than that metallic thing the vet had thrust into her. The naked body of the rider behind her, his hands on her flank. She felt wanted.

When he entered her, she felt good, and then he started to push into and out of her, and it felt even better. She tossed her hair and neighed, and it felt even better.

“Oh, you are so tight and so wet. It’s beautiful. You are such a good pony. Wait, I make you cum first. I want to hear you. Be a good, sexy pony. Make me cum.”

Julia was lost in what her body was experiencing; it was so different from what Mindy had done with her. The rider's hand came around and played with her clit, and she just let herself sink and be a pony, being used as it should be.

When the rider came in her, she finally felt like a pony for the first time, like she should be. New and different. She now knew her purpose. She didn’t mind that his cum ran down her leg when he left or that his saliva on her shoulder was getting cold. She had been used as a pony, and it had been a new experience. An experience she liked.

Maria's rider pushed her into the straw onto her back. “Let’s see what you can do.”

She pulled her pants and her pink lacy panties down and then sat on her face, the rider’s wet pussy pushing into her mouth. Maria didn’t know what to do. The woman's smell was different from anything she had smelled before. Not bad, just different.

“Oh! You don’t know what to do?” Maria whinnied softly. “That’s all right, little pony. I’ll teach you. Push your tongue between my pussy lips and then do the same you would do with your finger to yourself. You have done that, right? Good Pony. Ah yes. Good. Higher find my clit, good suck on… yesss.”

Maria did her best. She had known she needed to learn this, and she was grateful the rider took the time to teach her. Maria used her mouth and tongue as instructed. She loved how the rider reacted to her, and that made her bold enough to try different things.

When the rider came, she pushed her face into her more. Maria had never felt so powerful before. She was the pony, but this rider’s orgasm was her making. Her tongue had made her cum.

After the rider was satisfied, she took her into her arms and used her hand on her tits and pussy to make her cum, while biting her neck. It felt so good to have a naked body behind her and to be allowed to cum like that. Maria loved it and behaved like a good pony. Just like Mindy had taught her.

“Hey there, Andrea, want your good night treat?” Melissa asked as she entered Andrea’s stall. “Would you like to cum? Would you like me to make you cum? Will you be a good pony and toss your pretty hair for me? That’s pretty. You sooo pretty with your hair and your horse eyes.”

Andrea felt something in front of her face and flinched as her bit was taken out. Two hands held her face as she felt something coming toward her. “It’s all good, my little pony. It's just me.” And she was kissed with soft lips. A tongue was intruding rather carefully but determined into her, and then the hands wandered all over her body and not only her tits and vulva.

Melissa took her time exploring her, caressing her, pressing her body against Andrea’s.

Never had anyone taken the time to do anything like that to her. She had always been the one to get it over and done with. Boys just wanted to cum in any of the holes she offered up to them, and that was that. This was different, and it frightened her a bit, as arousal sprang up unexpectedly.

She was happy she couldn’t move that much, and her hands were tied. She wouldn’t know what to do with them anyway. She had never been with a woman, nor ever had an interest in one, but this was nice, and she liked the attention she was getting.

Melissa changed position, and now she ground her pussy against her vulva while she occasionally kissed her and played with her nipples.

“I know you have never been with a woman. Learn, ’cause you have to.”

She was kissed again, and Melissa said in a schoolmistress voice. “There will be a test later.”

That made her giggle. She went stock still. Ponies don’t giggle. But instead of being punished, she was kissed. “I count that as your second word. Don’t tell anyone.” She again took her time to kiss her leisurely and with passion. “You’re not allowed to cum yet. Hold it in. I’ll tell you when and then… I want to hear a sexy pony. Ok? Can you do that? Good.”

Melissa played with her well after the lights were out, teased her, and edged her.

She held her, and her hand was playing with her clit, and she squeezed one of her nipples. “Get ready. You learned from Mindy how a sexy pony sounds. Ok. Ready? Yes. Louder. Let the other ponies know that her lead mare is being covered and is coming. Yes. Now. Cum for me. Andrea Cum.”

And she let go and tossed her hair, neighed and whinnied, and just became a pony.

Two months passed in routine. Cleaning. Thinking.

Her routine was only broken once. Someone from her school must have seen her entering the facility. Soon, everyone knew.

One of the last friends, who had stuck around after Nancy was gone, cornered her.

“You work for those monsters? The ones who killed Nancy and turned her into mince? How could you?”

Silvia wanted to scream the truth. That Nancy had gone in peace. That it had been respectful, even beautiful in its own way. That she had been there, and it had meant something.

But Silvia didn’t say anything. What would be the point? She wouldn’t understand.

After that, nobody spoke to her again. But that was okay. University prep school was finished anyway.

So she kept cleaning. Thinking. Grieving. Trying to build a new version of herself.

Some weeks later, Helena surprised her by telling her to come in early and meet her outside the facility. Silvia didn’t hesitate. School had ended, and her mornings were free.

Her final diploma had been good—not amazing, but solid enough for university. Her father had tried, one last time, to talk her into going. “You could study medicine. You’ve always found it interesting,” he’d said. Silvia had looked into it. Made the effort to explore other avenues, and he wasn’t wrong. Medicine fascinated her. But she knew it wasn’t her path.

The past two months at the facility had made everything clearer: women were slaughtered, and that would never change. What mattered was how it was done. She’d seen how hard Helena, Alexandra, and Melissa worked—how exhausted they were after some of the customisation slaughters. This was where she was needed. This was what she wanted to do.

When she arrived that morning, Helena was already waiting for her, leaning casually against her car. “Get in,” was all she said as she opened the door.

No “Hi.” No “Good morning.” Just like any other day. Silvia was used to it by now.

As Helena turned left, Silvia’s breath stopped. Clapton South Processing Centre. She stared at the sign as they entered the car park and headed toward the employee entrance.

“What are we doing here?” Silvia asked, her voice uncertain.

“Getting the last shred of bullshit out of you. Now come.”

Helena strode ahead, confident and brisk, up to a security guard. He scanned her chip, and Helena instructed the man to prepare visitor badges for them.

The guard scanned Silvia’s chip, then handed over two green lanyards with ‘VISITOR’ printed on them. He grinned at Silvia. “Don’t lose it, or you’ll have to stand in line.”

Silvia froze. WHAT?

Helena chuckled, shaking her head. “Same old joke every time. Don’t you get tired of it?”

The guard shrugged, and Helena pushed the door open.

Inside, they headed to a changing room. Helena handed Silvia a plastic overalls, slippers, gloves, and, finally, a pair of safety glasses. Silvia slipped them on, her hands trembling slightly.

Then Helena led her through another door.

The processing hall hit Silvia like a physical blow. The air reeked of urine and disinfectant. The sound was worse—a constant din of wailing, crying, pleading, sharp commands, and industrial noise.

Helena nudged her forward. “Keep walking,” she said, her voice clipped.

Silvia’s steps faltered as they approached the first line. Ten naked women stood in a queue, their faces masks of terror, resignation, or shock, or just blank. Some were businesslike, wanting it to be over. Some wept openly, and a few were begging the workers, their voices high and desperate. One woman froze, rooted to the spot, until a worker jabbed her with a cattle prod. Her scream pierced the air, and she moved forward.

They moved past the first line, then the next, and Silvia caught the tang of urine as it dripped down a trembling woman’s leg. The workers didn’t seem to notice. Dressed in full protective gear, they were faceless and efficient, pulling the women forward with brisk, mechanical movements.

Silvia could only stare. She had been here before—on a school outing. Back then, the building had been empty, pristine, and eerily quiet. The guides had explained the processes with detached professionalism, their words clinical and rehearsed. The equipment had gleamed under bright lights, and the air had carried only the faint, sterile scent of disinfectant.

But this? This wasn’t the same place. It couldn’t be. This was beyond anything anyone should endure. It was inhumane, despicable, horror... words failed her.

The smell was overwhelming now, a nauseating mix of blood, urine, and chemicals that burned her nostrils. The sounds were worse—a chaotic symphony of sobbing, pleading, sharp commands and the sound of machinery in the background. The pristine surfaces she remembered were streaked with fluids, the gleam replaced by a sticky sheen of use.

This… this was horrible. This was what her mother had had to go through?

Helena led Silvia to the front of a line, just as a worker grabbed a woman’s wrist, forcing her onto a steel bench with practised ease. He didn’t speak, his motions quick and unfeeling. The woman’s legs were secured into a spreader bar, and she was pushed forward along the rail system. The whole operation took less than a minute.

Silvia craned her neck as the woman was guided around a corner, her sobs growing fainter. The worker returned a short while later and strapped the next woman in place. But she screamed and fought him. Another worker, armed with a cattle prod, jabbed it into her boobs. She collapsed in agony, her crying reduced to gasping whimpers.

Helena kept her moving. Around the next corner, three women hung upside down, waiting for the next station around another corner. One of the women, sobbing uncontrollably, begged for her life. “Please! I have a son—he needs me!”

Silvia’s knees threatened to give out. She looked at Helena, but she couldn’t see much with all the gear they wore. Silvia couldn’t even tell if a worker was male or female. Helena’s firm hand on her shoulder kept her upright. “Keep walking,” she said simply.

The line moved the pleading woman forward to a man in a shallow work trench who guided a robotic arm, its cables and hoses hissing softly. He moved the arm to the next woman’s head. “Thank you for your contribution to a better tomorrow,” he said, his voice mechanical and devoid of emotion.

Then there was a soft thud as the robotic arm shot a tungsten bolt into the woman’s forehead. Her cries stopped instantly, her body slackening as her life ended. Without hesitation, the worker pushed a button, and her body moved to the next station.

Helena didn’t need to push Silvia forward; she didn’t want to see that again.

After that, the rail system carried the bodies through a series of workstations. The first butcher used a large automated scissor-like device to sever the heads, sending them tumbling into a chute below. Blood spurted violently out of the neck stump, splashing into a gutter. Another butcher stepped in, gutting the torso with swift, practised but crude cuts. The arms were removed and tossed into a trolley.

At the next station, a worker in a shallow trench cut away the Tits and placed them in a container. Next, the Cunt was cut out. After the premium cuts, the processing became even cruder. An automated chainsaw whined as another worker split the carcass in two, separating the halves into neat, identical sections. Arms were sawn off and then meat hooks replaced the legs as they were removed. The half torsos moved further down the line.

Silvia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Her entire body trembled as she fought the urge to scream. This wasn’t what she had imagined. This wasn’t anything like what she’d seen before. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.

Helena took her hand and guided her back the way they had come, past the lines of women sobbing and crying. Helena helped her out of her protective gear, and then Silvia ran. Ran out past the security guard and into the parking lot.

Silvia collapsed to her knees and vomited. Helena stood over her, holding her hair back as she retched violently, her entire body heaving until there was nothing left.

When Silvia finally calmed, Helena crouched beside her. “Still want to do this?” she asked. “You could end up working here. These are accredited Girl Butchers. Just like you want to be.”

Silvia stared at her, barely hearing the words. “But this is wrong!”

Helena shrugged. “That’s what Girl Butchering is all about. You butcher women in their slaughterable age. They have to die, by law. And sometimes, there’s a lot of them. Like today—most come in either on their first or on the last day possible. Last day for them is today.”

“I want to do what you and Alexandra are doing,” Silvia said, her voice trembling. “Give these women some dignity.”

Helena’s expression didn’t change. “There’s no dignity in death. You’re just dead. That’s it. It doesn’t matter how you die because you won’t remember. Except for the Butcher nobody knows how you died. You’re just dead. So what does it matter?”

Silvia’s voice shook as she stood upright, trembling. “If there’s no dignity in death, and it doesn’t matter how someone dies, then why do you care? Why do you and Alexandra do it differently?”

Helena’s eyes narrowed, studying Silvia for a long moment. “Care?” she said, her tone even. “Let me explain something, Silvia. Today, this place processes around one hundred women. That’s how it works here. Sometimes they queue up, especially on their last day. It always happens. And when you’re dealing with numbers like that, there’s no room for anything else. It’s fast. It’s efficient. It’s brutal. That’s the reality.”

She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “At our facility, we can’t slaughter more than eight a day right now. That’s it. Because with private slaughters, you get the chance to make a difference. You can focus on the person in front of you—not the queue behind her. But here’s the thing: it costs. It costs time, care, patience. And it costs a piece of us. Every. Single. Time.”

Silvia blinked, her chest tightening as Helena stepped closer.

“So, let me ask you again,” Helena said, her voice lowering but gaining intensity. “If dignity matters to you, then ask yourself why it matters.” Helena shook her head vehemently. “Because if you’re going to step into this world, you need more than a gut feeling. You need to know why you’re doing it. Otherwise, when you’re kneeling next to a woman with a knife in your hand, and you feel the weight of it all—their fear, their trust—you’ll crack. And I won’t waste my time training someone who’s going to crack.”

“I won’t crack,” Silvia said, her voice steady despite the fire in her chest. How could Helena say that? She had worked her arse off for the last two months.

Helena studied her closely, her gaze sharp. “Then prove it. Figure out what you believe, and why. Because when you’re doing this job, feelings won’t carry you through. Beliefs will. And if you don’t have them yet, you’d better find them or find something else to do.”

She stepped back, her tone final. “I’ll bring you back to your car. I want you to walk away from this for some time. Only come back to me when you’ve got your answer. Think about it. Really think. This is not a game. This will be the rest of your life. Think. Think hard.”

Silvia was stunned. By what she had seen. By what Helena had said. But worst of all—it didn’t let her go. Why?

The first thing she did when she got home was storm into the shower. She scrubbed her skin raw, lathering herself with soap again and again, washing her hair until her scalp burned. No matter how much she scrubbed, she still felt dirty.

When her dad came home, she couldn’t face him. She mumbled a weak “Hi” and “Bye” before grabbing her car keys and heading out again.

At the cliff overlook, Silvia stepped out into the biting wind. It was empty—just her and the endless expanse of sea and sky. She screamed until her throat burned, pouring out obscenities, rage, anguish, and hate. The wind tore the words from her lips, carrying them into the void.

When her voice finally gave out, she sank to the ground, her chest heaving. The sea crashed below, relentless and uncaring, and Silvia sat there, feeling just as raw and battered.

She stayed until the cold drove her home.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” her dad asked, his voice filled with worry.

Silvia hesitated. She wanted to tell him—about the carelessness, the sheer industrialisation of it all. But the words wouldn’t come. “I’ve been confronted with a lot of reality today,” she said instead. “I need to think about it more. If you’re lucky, I’ll decide to study medicine.”

He wanted to say something, but he just nodded and let her be. “I'll be here for you,” he just said, and that was all she needed to hear.

They sat down for dinner, her dad clearly worried, but he didn’t press. Silvia was quiet, deep in thought, the images from the Processing Centre and Helena’s words looping in her mind.

All those women were Girl meat now. They were dead. That was that. Why did it really matter what their last minutes looked like? Dead was dead; they couldn’t remember or care anymore. But she did. Why?

Why had she been repulsed by the Centre and fascinated by Nancy’s slaughter? Slaughter was slaughter. Transforming women into Girl meat.

She looked at her dad; he was clearly worried. She shook herself out of her thoughts. “Dad. Can you take tomorrow off? I would love to go hiking in the mountains with you. We haven’t done anything together for a while. Please.”

His face lit up. “I love that. That sounds like a good idea. We haven’t done that in ages.”

So the next morning, they headed into the high mountains. The deep forest stretched endlessly, vibrant and alive. Wolves, bears, boars, deer, and even the occasional elk roamed freely now—proof of how the planet had recovered. The forest had taken over small villages and old roads, and slowly, they faded away. This was what population control was meant to preserve.

Her dad had once told her, “There’s a forest here because humans finally stopped screwing it up.” She’d laughed at him then, but now the words felt heavier. Women died so this forest could be here. Her mum had walked into a Processing Centre, so the wild animals could live.

Silvia questioned the value of that trade. She would have preferred her mother to some animals.

As they walked, the reality of it all pressed down on her. This was why women were slaughtered. To keep the balance. To ensure that this—this wild, thriving world—existed. So they all could exist. She remembered pictures and videos from the time before and how humans had almost destroyed everything with their greed and mindlessness.

Was wanting to keep her mum and Nancy for herself just greed? Someone else would have had to die instead—either another woman now, or millions later, when humans destroyed the world again.

The air was cold and clean, the silence broken only by the crunch of their boots and the occasional rustle in the underbrush. As they walked, Silvia turned everything over in her mind.

She understood the numbers. She understood why the women took the last possible day. She even understood the necessity of the Processing Centres. But the thought of dying like that—begging, terrified—made her stomach churn.

Her mind kept circling back to Nancy and her own mother. Why did she believe Nancy’s slaughter was better than the begging woman’s? They were both dead. One died in fear; the other in bliss. But both were dead.

Did the last minutes really matter? Or was it only about helping them accept their death more easily?

But then the Centre had been full. None of them had wanted to die like this. It all made no sense.

By the end of the day, she still didn’t have an answer. It took her two more days of turning it over and over before the truth finally crystallised in her mind.

When it came, it felt simple. Obvious, even. This was it. Her answer.

Silvia didn’t waste a second. She was in the car and at the facility in no time. After waiting in the small break room for Helena to finish, she finally got her chance.

Helena didn’t sit down. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Silvia took a deep breath, meeting Helena’s gaze. “I’d rather line up there myself than do what they do. If I ever get to the point where I don’t care anymore, I’ll just stand in that line myself. But as long as I’m here—if we can only do eight a day—then at least those eight will feel loved in their last moments.” Her voice steadied. “I would have wanted that for my mother. I know Nancy felt loved. I’d want it for myself. And I’d want it for my daughters. It’s not about the living, and it’s not about the dead. It’s about the women who may still get their Letters and need to know it will be okay.”

For a moment, Helena said nothing. Then she nodded, once, and turned away.

Silvia blinked, startled. “That’s it?” she called after her. No answer. Was that the wrong answer? Silvia sat there for a moment, her heart pounding. No. It’s not wrong, she thought. It’s mine. It’s right.

Silvia stood and followed Helena down the hall to the office. She was angry now. She was done with being treated like a child or a worker bee. “Listen, Helena. I have had enough of this bullshit. Stop ignoring me. I want to do this. This is the right thing to do. If you don’t train me, I’ll find someone else.”

Helena turned, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She shoved a secure tablet into Silvia’s hands. “Sign.”

Silvia glanced down at the screen, her heart skipping a beat. Apprenticeship Contract.

The day started early. A metallic banging, and then Mindy shouting. “On your hooves, ponies.”

Andrea was not used to getting up with the sun, and she struggled. Not only that, sleeping with her hands tied behind her back had been hard. Her brain not fully online, she needed a strong coffee. A groan of frustration escaped her as she realised that there was none to be had. She could even hear Mindy’s words in her head: “Ponies don’t drink coffee.”

Maria was up and ready. She had done her business at the far side of her stall, but she was still embarrassed. There was proof of her degradation in the straw and in the smell. But she had done worse in her life.

Julia was determined to do better today. To be the best pony, even if she knew she was dirty and stinky.

George was less embarrassed to just do his business. Without his hands, it wasn’t easy to pee with his morning wood, and it spilled everywhere. It also bothered him that he could not wipe or clean himself afterwards, and that the stable hands would have to do it.

Mindy took them out of their stalls and back to the feeding area, where the stable hands took over.

A bucket of water was given to them while one of the stable hands brushed them down and cleaned their genitals and their butts.

George was still embarrassed as his dick rose again, but the young woman cleaning his dick didn’t even pause before making him bend forward to get to his butthole. It made it even worse than yesterday. He was now just a thing to her. Not a man.

Mindy came over and inspected the stable girl's efforts at cleaning his dick. “That’s acceptable. Hold him. I need to get the ball stretchers on.”

“Oh, can I do that? Please, Miss, please?”

“No way. That’s delicate work, and you could hurt him and make him mad.” She patted his legs as she squatted down in front of him.

Seeing her in this position, his dick rose again. She slapped his dick hard and harrumphed. “As if!” She pulled his sack down firmly, then fitted the two halves of a thick metal tube above his balls. The stretch was hard.

“See how hard it is to make sure the sack tissue is not getting in between the gap? He would kick you and bite you if you hurt him there. Colts and stallions are dangerous if you hurt their genitals.” She patted his legs again. “That’s why we strap them into metal holders, not leather, when we castrate them. They don’t learn from it if you cut their balls off under anaesthetic.”

George moved around nervously.

“No, I won’t hurt you, my little pony. Mindy knows how to do this properly. Calm. All good. It’s almost on. Behave, and your balls will be nice and low-hanging soon.”

She screwed the metal tubes together with Allen screws and stepped back.

“Oh, that looks so good on him. When I marry a pony, I will put that on him, too.”

“If. You still need to pass all your exams. Now feed him.”

George looked a bit perplexed. It didn’t hurt him, but he could feel a constant pull on his balls, and when he moved, they swung around, hitting his legs. The young woman continued to feed him and talked to him that he was such an awesome colt, and she would want someone like that when she was a proper rider.

Andrea was grateful that the stable boy wiped her welts down again and applied the thick calendula cream to them, talking all the while. “You need to be more careful, my little chestnut. This welt on your tit is deep, and it would be a shame to see them marked. They are so nice. Don’t flinch. I will be careful. That’s a good pony. Here, have a treat.”

It was hard for her to take it without shouting out again.

They were hand-fed again while the stable hands petted them and spoke softly to them, telling them what good ponies they were.

After they had been watered and fed, Mindy took them back to the carousel, and they spent hours walking in circles, the horses pulling them relentlessly along.

George was struggling hard. The ball stretcher banged his balls against his legs with every step. It started to become uncomfortable.

Andrea had to go, and she held on to it as long as she could, hoping that Mindy would return, but she didn’t. Giving up, she sped up, trying to get a bit ahead of her lead so she could squat and let it go. It didn’t work. She had just squatted down when her lead caught up with her and pulled her along again. She tried to fight the bridle, but two horses and three ponies had a lot of pull. Her tears welled up again as she realised she would have to drop manure while walking, knowing the mess it would create on her legs.

George and Maria, seeing her distress, took the strain of the pulling horses onto their bridles, trying to make them slow down, and this time, Julia helped, too. The horses slowed down and even stopped. With relief, Andrea let her manure drop to the ground, and then her pee sprayed out of her. She was past caring; she just didn’t want it on her legs.

Behind her, she heard George pee, too. Even Julia dropped manure and peed. She would need to learn to do it like Julia. It looked more efficient and less likely to end up on her legs.

Andrea looked around to see if everyone was finished, and then pulled on her lead to start them going again. She didn’t want to think about what punishment Mindy had in store for them if they didn’t do the carousel.

The horses were reluctant to go, and she shouted, “Giddy up!” as loud and clear as the bit allowed it while she pulled on her lead. She knew she had broken a rule, but then it was only her that was getting whipped, not the others. The horses followed her lead and fell back into their walking pattern.

The sun was high up in the sky before Mindy returned.

As she took them off the carousel, Mindy caressed one of Andrea’s boobs affectionately and whispered, “You will make a good lead mare when you are ready. I still have to punish you for speaking, but you knew that, didn’t you? Yes, you did, my brave filly.”

And with that, Mindy smacked Andrea’s nipples with her crop multiple times, hard. Andrea bit down on her bit and grunted as the blows came onto her already hurting body.

Mindy took the rest off, and as they followed her, everyone nodded their heads to Andrea.

They were fed, watered, and brushed down again.

It was the carousel again in the afternoon, and again the stable hands and food. They all managed to do their business during the evening feed, which was a huge relief. The stable hands would take them aside and clean them directly.

When they were finally allowed to lie down in their stalls, they were exhausted, their bodies weary from the walking. They felt dirty, and they smelled. Their minds were numb from just walking in circles and being told they were good ponies.

Andrea opened her legs as Mindy entered her stall, knowing she would get the crop, and endured the pain with grunts. She was asleep even before Maria, in the stall next to her, neighed loudly as she came.

Julia didn’t know what was happening. The vibrator caused her whole body to go crazy. She had never experienced anything like this before. She was afraid of what was happening, and when her orgasm approached, she panicked.

“This is your first time!” exclaimed Mindy, surprised.

“Breathe. I’m here. You will be fine, this is nothing to be afraid of… good… let it come. Neigh. Louder. Neigh. Again. Yes. That’s a good filly. You did well.”

Julia collapsed into the straw, slightly trembling, dazed, and with a satisfaction she had no word for. She had not known something like this existed. She had heard and seen ponies used as they should be, but this... this was nothing she could have imagined.

Mindy could not believe it; she would have to report this. Her parents had not educated their daughter as they should have. There were certain expectations for pony-only marriages.

Maria had done well this time. It took time to re-educate ponies to neigh instead of moaning or shouting stupid stuff. But that was Mindy’s job. George did a better neigh, more aggressive as a colt should be. A bit more, and it would be able to arouse her. He was coming along. His yield was good, too. The ball stretcher was doing its work, keeping him fiery even if he didn’t realise it.

On their hooves. Morning feed, carousel, midday feed, carousel, evening feed, lying down. Dropping manure, peeing. Stable hands brushing them down, cleaning their genitals, their buttholes. Their world had been reduced. The only change was who got the crop in the evening.

All the ponies tried to force themselves to drop manure or pee before the carousel, either in their stall or during feeding. But it wasn’t easy.

George had shouted today to get the horses moving again after Julia needed a manure break. He had done it on purpose even before Andrea could.

He howled loudly as his balls were smacked hard while the fillies were allowed to cum. Andrea neighed extra loud when she came, so he had something to make him feel better. She hoped he would appreciate it. Maria was extra loud, too. Julia was still learning to let go, cum, and neigh.

Up. Morning feed, carousel, midday feed, carousel, evening feed, lie down.

The next evening, Maria got the evening crop because she had stumbled in the carousel again, while the rest continued to learn to neigh their orgasms. It became easier as they lost time, purpose, and identity.

Feed, circles, feed, circles, feed. Andrea took the crop… for something.

Morning, midday, evening, crop.

Another day.

Waking up.

Carousel.

And again...

But Mindy led them past the carousel, and all the ponies’ heads came up. She took them to a field where they were met by Melissa, Mindy’s assistant, whom they had met on their first morning at the Farm. That morning was now just a foggy, distant memory.

The field was agricultural land, with neat, ploughed rows, but the section Mindy brought them to had not been ploughed.

“This is for your overall strength and endurance. Melissa, we'll take the colt first. Give the fillies a challenge to work up to.”

The fillies were tied to a post and left to stand while Melissa pulled the colt forward and put a crude harness over his shoulders.

Mindy settled onto the plough seat, her weight pushing the blade into the earth, and Melissa handed her a long driving whip.

Mindy let the whip smack over the colt’s head, startling him.

“Giddy up. Pull.”

Melissa took him by his bridle and pulled. “Legs up. Push down. Chest forward. Lean into it. That’s it. Good colt. Move.”

He grunted hard, his legs straining, his body pulling the plough forward through the earth.

“Pull harder! Put some muscle into it.” Mindy flicked the driving whip so it smacked his butt, making him jerk forward.

He grunted hard, accepting the challenge. He clamped down harder on his bit.

“That’s a good colt. You make it to the end of the row and back, I'll let you cover one of the fillies.” The colt pulled harder, and she smirked as she gave him another hard flick of the whip on his arse.

Andrea’s head jerked around when she heard Mindy’s words. She had known this was coming. She would enjoy a good fuck; she was just wondering what new rules Mindy would come up with. How was a pony properly covered by a colt?

Maria found the play of the colt's muscles alluring. She had seen naked males before; how could someone not? The one communal shower in the building made that impossible. But seeing this man… this colt sweat and strain made her feel something she had not felt before.

Julia watched George pull the plough down the dirty field and lost more hope. She would be made to pull that plough, too, she knew. It was degradation. She was a pony, not a work slave. She should be made pretty and played with. She let out a loud sob. Had her parents failed her? Had she been lied to? Had they put her in the wrong program? Where were the pretty ribbons and the sensual oils? Where were the people who worshipped her?

She felt Andrea against her flank, rubbing her body against hers. She pushed her away, annoyed. She stank enough without the other ponies adding to it.

The colt made it back, and his sweat caked the dust on his skin.

“Whoa! Good colt.” Mindy got off the plough and patted the exhausted colt on his arse. “Well done, George. Good colt. Here, have a treat.”

Melissa released him from the harness and returned the colt to the fillies, attaching his lead to their post.

He was exhausted but elated, his spirits high. He would be allowed to cover one of them. He wondered who, but it didn’t matter; he wanted all of them anyway.

The fillies, except Andrea, got a bit nervous from the stares of the colt and the way he moved closer to them, crowding them. Andrea stepped into him, pushing against him, protecting her fillies. And he retreated a bit.

Mindy came up and saw what was happening. She smirked and then pulled Julia by her bridle, pushing a hand between her legs and two fingers into her. Julia tried to step back but couldn’t. Mindy took her fingers out of her and then pulled the colt down to her level.

“Here, have a treat.”

She smeared her Julia-scented fingers under his nose, leaving a wet line.

The colt drew his head back, and his eyes went wild as the filly’s female pheromones hit his brain. He became instantly stiff.

“That’s a good colt. You want to have one of them now? Don’t you? Do you know which one?”

She grabbed Maria by the bridle and pulled her to her. “Want to sniff her?” And she pushed a finger into her. “Oh! This one is ready for you. Juicy.”

She again took his bridle, but he came towards her. And while she smirked, she smeared her finger on his lips.

“You like her taste? Neigh like a colt. You want a filly? You have to be a colt!”

And he did. He tossed his head back and pushed his body into hers, crowding her. Maria tried to avoid him, and Andrea pushed back. Julia tried to get around the pole, out of his reach.

Mindy grabbed Maria and manoeuvred her in front of the colt. Pulling down on her bridle, she made her bend forward.

The colt took his chance and tried to push his dick into her, but there was a height difference, and his dick went over her.

Mindy took her crop and hit Maria as she tried to move her butt out of his reach. “Don’t move your rear. You are getting covered. He earned it.” She smacked her again, hard, for good measure.

The colt tried again, angling his body. His brain was offline. Instinct reigned. He could feel her wetness; the scent of Julia in his nose was driving him nuts. There! He thrust, and Maria cried out as he hit her butthole but didn’t penetrate.

Mindy struck her again. “You are a filly. Fillies get covered by colts and stallions. Fillies get fucked by riders. Learn to bend over properly and push your arse into him. Have you never been fucked before?” Mindy bent down to her face and saw it. Damn. Another virgin. Maria clearly didn’t know what to do. Mindy remembered the vet saying she was properly dildo-trained, but that only meant she could take the colt, not that she knew how to use her body properly.

“Melissa, get Andrea; I’ll pull him off.” Mindy pushed Maria out of the way and made a grab for George. “Calm down, you get to offload in a filly. Just wait a second. That one needs lessons. I know you don’t care. Any hole will do right now. WAIT”

Melissa had grabbed Andrea’s bridle and unclipped her from the pole.

“Come. I know you know how to be fucked. Show your fillies.” And she pulled her down.

“Show them properly, and I'll make sure you cum, too. Neigh for me and toss your hair. I want to see a pony getting covered.” She held her up so she could see her eyes.

Andrea wanted it. She had been turned on by his display of raw want and his display of power with the plough. She wanted him.

She pushed her arse out and her back down to lift her butt more. She almost fell over, but Melissa caught her. “Be a pony already. You’re not the centre of the party anymore with all the other pretties. You are nothing but a filly in heat. Behave like one.” And she smacked her with her crop on the arse.

Mindy brought the colt over. “You fillies better watch. You're next. You better learn, or it’s the whip and strikes.”

Mindy pushed two fingers into Andrea, and instead of moaning, she neighed.

“There's a good filly. Come look at me and toss your pretty hair for me,” Melissa murmured.

The colt found her wet hole and pushed into it hard; Andrea moaned.

“You learned to neigh and snort and make the right noises. Use them, and I'll make sure you cum.” The next time the colt pushed into her, she tossed her hair and neighed. It felt good for her to do that. She had no words, but she had these sounds, and that rider wanted them.

She felt the rider’s hand on her clit, and it made her wild. While the colt pushed his dick hard into her and his ball stretcher banged against her vulva, the rider stimulated her clit skillfully.

“Be a good pony. Neigh, snort, toss your hair. That’s good. Is the colt deep in you? Is he good? Is he hard enough for you? Yes, I can see it, you like it. You want to cum first? I don’t think so. Be a pony, and I'll let you cum. You want to be a pony? Yes? Yes? Yes. You want it.”

Andrea just let go. She neighed and tossed her hair. Then the colt pushed hard and deep, and came. With a loud neigh, he came in her, and she could feel him filling her.

Melissa let Andrea’s bridle go and used her body to hold her up. She took a nipple with one hand and squeezed it while slapping her vulva hard with the other.

Andrea had never had this feeling before. She had always called the shots, always had sex on her terms, how she wanted it. She had no choice but to react to it.

In the last few days or weeks—she had lost track of time—she felt like she had been a zombie. She had to follow. She had to obey. Now she had been covered by a colt and made to cum by a rider in a way she would never have allowed anyone to handle her. It made her feel alive again. She came hard, long, and intensely.

Melissa held her up while she came, the colt still fucking her.

Her nipples were squeezed hard. “Don’t fall over, don’t sit down. Stand on your hooves. Ponies stand.” Melissa used her command voice. “Be a pony.” She held her up and let her recover a bit.

“Good filly. Was it good? Did you enjoy this? Toss your pretty head for me. That’s good.”

Mindy pulled the colt off Andrea and reined him in. He was breathing hard and let out a long snort.

“Acceptable performance for a colt. You have a lot to learn. OK, who is next? Which filly would you like next? The palomino or the bay?” She grabbed his balls, and he winced. “Tired from the stretcher? You cover one more, and you get a break.”

She grabbed Maria by the bridle and could see the panic in the filly’s eyes. “Might as well give you a second try. Hope you watched well. Melissa, stop cuddling with that pony and help. Seriously, you behave like these young stable hands. A nice pair of tits and eyes, and you’re done.”

“As if that colt wouldn’t do it for you? But your stallion husband is better built… and fucks better,” she said, leading Andrea back to the post and tying her lead up. She smacked Andrea affectionately hard on her arse and winked at her.

“Stop moaning about my stallion. I lent him to you once; that’s enough. Get a move on. Hold that filly, and let’s get her covered for the first time.”

She took Maria and used her crop to manoeuvre her arse around so it faced the colt.

“Oh! First time with a colt or… wow… Let’s make that enjoyable.”

“HOLD HER! Ok, George, get it up.” She smacked him in the face, getting his attention. She pushed two fingers into Maria and then rubbed her scent directly into his nose. “Breathe in. Smell her.” She also slapped his balls so that the stretcher made them swing from side to side. “There we go. HOLD HER. Maria, I swear, you move your arse one more time, and I’m giving you a strike. See how you would like to end up in a cheap brothel, becoming a nag in no time.”

Maria was shaking. Not only was the threat enough to make her knees weak, but also the fact that she was about to be covered. Cucumbers were in her control, but this wasn’t. There was Mindy’s hand on her vulva again, and then she felt the colt’s body close to her.

“George, nice and slow. You had your wild go. Slow! I said.”

George let out a yell behind her.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna twist them again if you don’t follow orders. Now forwards. I’m gonna put you in, and then you go slowww. Stomp! Good colt. Calm.”

Maria could feel something opening her up, something warm and hard, not like the cold cucumbers or the metal thing the vet had pushed into her. She didn’t dare to move as it intruded deeper and deeper into her. She bent her back and neighed, as she had learned, when she felt pleasure.

“There you go. Feels good, right?” Melissa said softly and stroked her head.

Maria was not sure; this was all new, and she didn’t know what to do, and nobody told her. The colt moved in her, filling her out and then retracting, which felt good. Sooo good. So different from the evening treats or when she had still been able to do it herself. She felt Melissa’s hand on her clit, and it made the whole thing much better.

Melissa coached her and told her to neigh, toss, stomp, and do all the other things a proper filly should be doing.

Maria was panting, neighing, and stomping, tossing her hair as she came closer to the finish line.

“Let her come. I'll trigger him,” said Mindy, pulling on his balls and putting a finger up his arse.

George's eyes rolled back in his head as he bucked hard, his mind not with him anymore. Maria came and tossed her hair and neighed as loud as she could.

Melissa patted the exhausted filly. “That was nice, right?”

Maria was panting but elated. This felt so different from the cucumbers or the night treats, much more satisfying. She had dreaded this, but now… if this was how a pony was used, her dream was maybe possible.

They tethered the ponies back to the post and left. George’s dick was still large but hanging down, seed dripping slowly from his tip into the dirt below.

Andrea felt better. Much better. She had needed that, and to her surprise, had liked it. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt much better letting everything go. Stopping caring what people thought of her, how she should make some guy like her, what she needed to do to be invited to a party. She was given easy, straightforward rules that were enforced justly and consistently. Something she could rely on, count on. It made her life much easier.

Julia was not happy. She felt left out, but also pleased that the stinking colt had not made her dirtier. These two old mares didn’t care what colt covered them. She could see the colt’s sperm run down Maria’s inner leg. How disgraceful.

She stank, she had sweated, her hair was a mess. The elaborate ponytail her mother had made was now just a dusty and dirty clump of hair held together. Her feet were filthy. She didn’t want to be covered by this colt. He was stinky and dusty. She dreamed of a well-oiled stallion, smelling like sandalwood and a meadow in bloom, happily prancing around. This... this was not what she wanted.

Mindy and Melissa returned with four buckets of water. While they watered the ponies, Mindy announced, “So, fillies, if you plough together the same amount as the colt, you get washed tonight. Coat and hair and everything.”

All the fillies perked up. Water? Be washed? Everything? Andrea was eager. She pulled at her lead.

“Oh, I see. I thought that would get your attention.” Mindy came forward and just unclipped all the leads from their bridles, letting them drop to the ground.

The fillies looked at Mindy, waiting. Nothing happened. Andrea could not stand it. Just the thought of being clean would make Andrea endure a whipping. Pulling that stupid plough? Easy. She pushed her fillies with her body. She really wanted to shout at them to move.

Mindy grabbed her by the bridle before she could do something stupid. “No words. Think pony,” Mindy said, warning her.

Andrea growled in frustration. She knew she was already lost to her new pony identity anyway; it made it easier. She breathed in hard and blew it out. She had to be a pony.

She used her hips to push Maria forward and tried to move Julia, who just shied away from her.

“You stink. Get off my flank. I don’t want to get any dirtier.” Julia whined out loud through her bit. “My beautiful harness is all ruined. I’m a good pony. I’m a beautiful palomino. I’m bred to be pretty and not to be covered by a stinking, sweaty colt or pull a dirty plough,” she shouted directly into Andrea’s face. “I’m not a stinking nag like you.”

Before Mindy could even get her crop out, Andrea was at her. Even with the bit in the way, she tried to bite Julia and continued to body slam her forward, snorting and growling at her. She had had enough of this show pony. All pretty and stupid. Trying to show off all the time. She had to hold on to herself tightly so as not to scream out loud and get whipped again. She was not worth getting whipped for.

“Melissa, hold Andrea while I whip some sense into this one. Julia, you have one strike.”

Melissa had to pull Andrea off Julia with quite some force. Andrea was able to kick Julia once more before Melissa pulled her hard out of range.

Melissa had her by the bridle and petted her neck and shoulder. “Calm down. Be a good filly now.”

She wanted to fight and make a scene, and she realised she could. As long as she stayed a pony, she could be angry and upset.

She tossed her head, pulled on Melissa’s arm—which held her bridle—and snorted at her in anger, stomping her hooves as hard as she could. It made her feel much better to let her anger and frustration out.

Mindy kept Julia short on the bridle and took the crop to Julia, whipping her hard, everything that she could reach. “You are the pony I want you to be. Nothing else. If I want to make you dirty and stinky, you will be dirty and stinky.”

Julia howled and screamed and cried out. She had never been whipped before. The crop on her vulva was nothing to this pain.

“Do you think you are a special pony? You are not. I saw prettier ones sold off to the brothels because they were not good ponies. Full of themselves.” Mindy gave her a thrashing that left marks all over her body. She would remember this for a while.

“Get to the plough. You get the crop tonight, and I will make it as painful as possible if you don’t behave better. Follow Andrea, your lead mare. Be a real part of this herd.”

Melissa had a hard time holding on to this fiery filly. She was looking forward to training this one personally, to properly prance and lift her long, sensual legs with purpose. But that would come later. In the meantime, she would help her finish her transition to a real pony, one she might want to take home.

Melissa pulled hard at Andrea’s bridle. “Enough. If you want to be angry, pull that plough. Lead your herd.”

Andrea snorted at her one more time, her eyes blazing, and with a big stomp, she settled down. She almost laughed out loud, but ponies did not laugh. This had felt much better.

Melissa had seen it. Andrea had probably not realised it, but she stood taller, her shoulders back, her tits out. She patted her affectionately. “Good filly. You will become a good mare.”

Melissa guided Andrea to the plough and put the harness over her shoulders. Andrea tried to pull it by herself, but it moved only a little. “You're eager. I like that.”

Mindy brought the other fillies and used two extra harnesses to hook them up on either side of her. Julia was still sobbing.

Andrea understood now. Everyone had their point where they just went off the rails before they could let their old life go. She looked over at Maria; she would be next, and she wondered what would trigger her to lose it.

The whip cracked above their heads, and they pulled. But, being out of sync, it did nothing. Andrea let out an angry growl.

She bumped both fillies with her hips until they looked at her. Andrea took a breath, held it, and then snorted loudly and pulled. Maria got it; Julia did not. But they moved a bit.

The whip cracked again above their heads. Andrea stomped angrily, body-checked Julia, and snorted loudly at her.

She took a breath again and snorted. Everyone pulled, and they started moving. She set the pace, snorting to give them a beat. She could feel that Julia was not pulling her weight, not even close.

Without thinking too much, she used her hip to shove Julia hard. Julia almost fell to the ground; Andrea snorted angrily at her, kicking out at her. If she could, she would have bitten her.

“Wait, Melissa, let the lead mare sort her out,” said Mindy from behind them, as Melissa moved to interfere.

Andrea jerked her head to signal that Julia should return to the line. With fear in her eyes, she did, keeping some distance between herself and Andrea.

Melissa stepped up, pushed a finger into Andrea’s vulva, and wiggled it around. Andrea was too surprised to react. When she finally moved, Melissa had already taken Julia by the bridle and smeared her finger under her nose.

Julia shook her head as if to shake Andrea’s scent off, but Melissa held her bridle tight. “This is your lead mare’s scent. This is the scent you follow.”

Mindy approved. Melissa was coming along well in her own training.

The next time Andrea snorted, Julia pulled, and they finally gained ground. Julia kept at it while Andrea gave them the beat. It was hard work, but they made it to the end of the row. They panted hard as they stopped. Mindy set the plough for the return journey, giving them some time to recover.

“Good. Andrea, get them moving again.” Mindy cracked the whip above their heads.

Andrea snorted, setting the pace, and the other fillies followed her lead. She was sweating and exhausted, but she would be clean.

Julia pulled as much as she could; she was still letting her head hang, but she pulled. Andrea took the extra strain that Julia could not.

“Whoa! Good lead mare!” Mindy shouted when they reached the end. Andrea was visibly elated. She had made it. They had made it.

Mindy and Melissa patted the ponies and gave them treats. “You showed that colt. I’m very proud of you all.”

Andrea felt something she had not felt before: that she had accomplished something, had finished something, that she had worth as a pony.

Maria was exhausted but happy. She would be made clean. She was looking forward to that. She had accepted Andrea as their leader a long time ago, ever since Andrea had made sure she regained her hooves on the first day of the carousel. She understood the punishment that Julia had been given. She was the only one who had not been properly whipped yet. It made her feel awkward. Was she not important enough to be whipped?

Julia let her head hang. Her body was hurting, and she still had Andrea’s scent in her nose. She had never been treated like that, like a common pony—a bad pony. She had always been the pretty one, the one that got petted and cuddled.

She had spoken; she knew she should not have. Now, she had a strike on her record, and she had been whipped.

Andrea’s scent was irritating her; it was a constant reminder that she had not been a member of the herd. She had failed. She had no purpose as a pony. She wasn’t even good enough to be covered. Tears ran down her face as Mindy led them back to the stables.

She perked up when she felt Andrea's hips touching hers softly and keeping contact. As Julia looked over at her, she saw Andrea pulling her shoulders back and holding her head high, and a twitch of her eyes told Julia she should do it, too.

She breathed in her lead mare’s scent, pulled her shoulders back, and held her head high.

Andrea nodded, smiled, and tossed her hair.

“I’m afraid,” Cheryl said softly.

“I know, darling. I know.” Her mother held her hand.

They had been waiting for half an hour. Cheryl was naked, shivering from the cold in the waiting room and from what lay before her.

“It’s not easy for me either, darling. You sit here with me, and in a few minutes, you will be gone and…” her mother sighed, “…then there will only be meat. I don’t know how to deal with that either.”

Cheryl exhaled. It wasn’t easy. She was about to be slaughtered because someone had to, and she had ‘won’ the draw along with two others. She was the last one. Two others had entered the butcher room with their mothers, and after a while, the mothers had come out again. Mostly crying.

Soon the door would open, and it would be her turn.

It wasn’t easy to know you would die, that your life would be over. That any dream you ever had would stop having any future. That you just would stop existing. Stop mattering.

And the only thing she could do was sit here, wait for the door to open, and hold her mother’s hand.

“Mom, I want you to hold my hand when….” But she couldn't finish it.

Her mother squeezed her hand. “I will. …I promise.”

The door opened, and the Butcher stood in the doorway, his apron more blood-soaked than the last time she had seen him. “Cheryl? Please come in.”

Her mother stood up, exhaling. Cheryl couldn’t move; she looked past the Butcher into the butcher room. She could see a body hanging on the wall. Maybe Shara, maybe Kira. It was halved, two halves, each hanging by a foot, a foot that had a meat hook in its ankle. The head had been removed.

Cheryl shook, not only from the cold…this would be her in a few minutes. Deat, lifeless, taken apart, made into food. She pressed her eyes shut, clenching her teeth.

“Come, darling.” She heard her mother. Cheryl looked up; there were tears in her mother’s eyes.

She had to stand up, go through that door, and die…. she had to, but it was so hard. She couldn’t move, just look at her mother and the carcass on the wall.

The Butcher came and helped her up. “It’s OK, Cheryl. I get it. You don’t have to do anything. Just follow my lead.”

It was easier. She didn’t want to go, and the Butcher guided her into the butcher room. The heavy door closed and that part of her live was over.

Cheryl’s breath hitched; there was blood on the floor, and there were two half-corpses hanging. One was still dripping blood onto the floor. On a workbench sat two heads. Their eyes were open, staring at nothing, their faces frozen in surprise, mouths open, both sitting in a pool of blood that dripped off the bench to the floor.

“Cheryl, over here, please. Kneel.” The Butcher showed her to a wooden block that stood on the floor, the carcasses just above. Blood pooled in front of it. An axe leaned against the wall.

Cheryl swallowed hard. She had been to the toilet, and she had been cleaned out; now she had to just kneel and die. Her eyes were focused on the wooden block, the blood, the lines where the axe had carved into the wood. Her legs were shaking.

“Can my Mom hold my hand?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

The Butcher stood next to the block and took the axe. “Sure. The others had their mothers hold their heads, so they didn't fall.”

A massive cold shiver ran down her spine. She looked at her mother. Her head would come off, fall. Would it hurt? Would it be over fast?

The Butcher checked the edge of the axe. “You can hold both. Her head and her hand. Cheryl has long hair, so that’s in the way anyway. Hold her head by her hair, and hold her hand,” the Butcher said and waved to her. “Come, it's time.”

But Cheryl couldn’t move. Her mother breathed in deeply and took her hand. “Come,” she said, pulling gently at her hand to the block, her death, the blood, the end. Her stomach felt empty, her legs shaky. Cheryl tried to be brave, tried to be a sting woman, how her mother had said she should be. Die with dignity.

She stepped one foot after the other, closer. Her mother’s hands were on her, guiding her to forward. Then her mother pressed gently on her shoulders, and Cheryl knelt. She could feel the cold tiles of the floor. Directly in front of her was the wooden block with its blood and it marks. Lots of marks. Which one had been Shara? Which one Kira?

“Lay your head on it and look to the left, please,” the Butcher asked politely.

Her mother’s hands helped her bend forward, so her head lay on the block. She could feel the coarse wood and the sticky wetness of blood on her ear. Her breath was flat and fast. She saw the two heads on the workbench and she swallowed hard and clenched her stomach. Their eyes started at her and at nothing at the same time. She started to sob. “Mommy.” She wailed softly.

“I’m here, darling. Give me your hand. I’m here. Look at me.”

Her mother knelt beside her and stroked her face. Tears dropped on the wood. Cheryl's hand searched for hers, and it gave her some strength. She was so afraid. Her stomach felt empty, and her head felt light.

“Take her hair….” she heard the Butcher say from above her. Her mother gathered her long hair into a ponytail and held it. Cheryl looked up into the teary eyes of her mother. "It's OK, Darling. Look at me. I love you."

“Mommy…” her voice shook, and her mother pressed her hand. "Mommy… I lo..." but there was a flash behind her eyes, a sharp pain, and then everything moved. She saw her mother up close. Everything spun, and she saw a headless body rising onto its haunches, spraying blood from its neck, before falling to the side. The Butcher standing over it with the bloody axe.

She felt her hair being pulled, she felt she had no air, she felt pain. Her mother wailed. “Cheryl. Oh, my baby…” and she saw her mother's face before her.

“Put her on the table while I hang the rest up to bleed out,” she heard the Butcher say, and she felt the movement as her mother set her head on the table. Everything felt strange, and her thoughts became slow.

Her mother came closer and stroked her face; she wanted to tell her she loved her, but no words came out. Her mind felt like jam. Her mother stroked her one last time and then turned away and walked out of the butcher room, crying loudly.

Her vision faded away. The last thing she saw was the Butcher pushing two meat hooks through her ankles and hanging her body….

Silvia had waited until they’d finished the main course before telling her father her decision. She didn’t want to waste any of her friend’s precious gift. She wasn’t sure how he would react—she had made up her mind, and she didn’t need his blessing. But she wanted his understanding. That’s why there was cake for dessert. Cake could wait.

But he just stared at her. She couldn’t read his emotions, and that worried her.

“Say something. Please,” she finally pleaded. Did he still love her? A Girl Butcher had slaughtered her mum, and now she wanted to become one. Would he hate her for it?

He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. “Sorry. I’m just stunned... I had no idea. Why?”

She took a deep breath. “I watched Nancy’s slaughter.” She hesitated, searching for the right words, and his eyes widened in astonishment. “Alexandra, her butcher, cared for her. She treated her like a person, not just Girl meat waiting to be butchered. Nancy was nervous and a little afraid at first, but... she died while she orgasmed. She didn’t even know it was happening. No Pain…just pleasure…” Silvia shook herself back to reality. “I want to give that to other women.”

Her father nodded slowly. “I think I can see what you mean. She had to die, so at least it was an easy death without fear and pain. I’m glad for her. That’s why I found that facility for you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Silvia said, her voice soft. “If my Letter ever comes, I’ll go there. And… I’d like you to be there when I’m slaughtered. It would make me feel better not to be alone.”

His brow furrowed deeply. “I’m not sure about that.”

“But I am,” she said firmly, her tone resolute. “Mum needed her anger to carry her to the end of the line. If I have to go, I’ll go willingly and without fear, knowing how it will end. Nancy came so hard she forgot everything. In my last moments, I don’t want to feel scared, sad, regretful, or angry. I want to let go... knowing I’m loved….go out with an orgasm.”

Her father stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tight. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

She leaned forward, her voice softening. “It’s not about you, Dad. It’s about me. Knowing you’re there... that would make it easier. I won’t be alone. Me being there made it easier for Nancy. She could let go. That’s all it is about.”

He breathed deeply, the reluctance clear on his face.

“Anyway. My slaughter might never happen. With the cull rates so much lower and Nancy just being processed, my chances are very good.” She gave him a small smile. “Dessert?”

As she dished out the cake, he finally said, “I respect your decision, but I need you to think about this clearly. Right now, you’re caught up in the emotion of it all. You experienced something that felt... meaningful.” He gestured with his fork. “But what worries me is that you’ve only had ONE good experience. A satisfying career can be born out of a single event, but... in my experience, for every good day at work, you have five bad ones.”

She had been about to eat the first bite of the strawberry cake she loved, but his words made her stop. He continued casually after taking a good forkful of cake.

“I want you to really think about what you're doing. Make sure this is really the right path for you,” he continued. “Think about it. You would have to slaughter women every day, day in, day out. Can you keep your passion alive? Can you keep a sane mind? When will it become routine? When will you start to become callous? Stop caring and just... do your job?”

She stared at him, his words hitting her hard. She hadn’t thought of that. Slaughtering Nancy, butchering her body, again and again and again...

Silvia felt like his questions had just shit all over her dream of being a good butcher and helping women. His ‘reality’ and her dream collided like freight trains.

“So?” he asked. “What’s the plan now?” He smirked as he shovelled another piece of cake into his mouth.

That smirk broke her. All the built-up stress and the emotional roller coaster of the last few days boiled up in her like a thunderstorm, and her dad was the lightning rod.

“Fuck you!” she snapped, standing up, her hands shaking. “You’re not a woman. We live with the Lottery every day. Every day, we could get a Letter!”

“Silvia, I—”

“No, Dad. Women carry the burden of the system. We’re the ones who die, who end up in the supermarket. On YOUR plate.” She jabbed a finger at his dish. “Nancy didn’t have to die afraid in some line. I want to help women so they don’t have to.”

“Sit down,” he said, his voice hardening. “How do you think you can handle the slaughter of hundreds of women if you can’t even handle watching one? You didn’t slaughter her. You just cooked her.”

“Just cooked her?” Silvia’s voice cracked, disbelief and fury merging. “I had to make sure she didn’t freak out. I had to help her shave. I had to organise her slaughter, sit beside her for our last minutes together, watch her bleed out! Then I watched her body being broken down into small packets of Girl meat. Does that sound like I ‘just cooked her’ to you?” Her voice rose with every sentence, her hands trembling as tears streaked her face.

Her father’s face softened. “Silvi… I’m…”

But Silvia couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed her purse, her voice rising. “I’ve had enough! I’m sleeping at Nancy’s—”

And then it hit her. Like a wave crashing all at once. Her knees buckled, and she pressed a hand to the wall for support. Nancy. Her mother. The dam broke, and the tears she’d held back for so long finally poured out, shaking her body with deep, heaving sobs. Grief overwhelmed her, a flood she couldn’t stop.

Her father’s hand landed gently on her shoulder. “Silvia…”

She didn’t want to listen to him. She ran.

The car door slammed behind her, and she gripped the wheel with trembling hands. Her foot found the accelerator, and she drove. Her tears blinded her; she didn’t care where she was going, only that she was moving.

She hadn’t grieved. Not for her mother. Not for Nancy. Not until now, when the weight of it all threatened to pull her under.

She had watched Nancy’s slaughter. Watched. Fascinated. She’d been aroused by Nancy’s soft moans, admired the precision with which they took her body apart. And she’d eaten her.

I’m a monster.

The thought cut through her like the blade had cut through Nancy’s throat. She hated herself for it. For her fascination, for her desire to do this for a living. To slaughter women, to break their bodies down and wrap them neatly for sale. What kind of person wanted that? Only monsters did.

Her chest heaved with sobs, and she pulled off the road. The car shuddered to a stop as she bent over the wheel, trembling. Nancy was gone. She had done this. She deserved to be alone.

When she finally lifted her head, she realised where she had driven to without knowing. Nancy’s house. The windows were dark. Especially that window—Nancy’s room, her only sanctuary.

She stared at it, willing the light to flicker on. It stayed dark, just like everything else.

Her tears came harder now, spilling onto the steering wheel. She had no one. Not Nancy. Not her mother. She was alone. Again. Her father couldn’t understand her. No one could. She was a monster for wanting to slaughter women on a daily basis.

A glint in the corner of her eye pulled her from her spiral. She blinked through the tears and saw something on the passenger side—a happy, sparkly sticker catching the faint glow of headlights. It simply said “Shut… Up!”

Silvia blinked at it, confused. Then she remembered. Nancy had put it there, a joke to silence her when Nancy was driving and Silvia complained.

She could almost hear her voice. ‘Shut... Up. You’re overthinking it. Just do it.’ Nancy had always been good at pushing her on, especially when she couldn’t find the courage to act.

Silvia stared at the sticker, her breath catching. Even in her final moments, Nancy had thought of her. Alexandra had passed on her last ‘Shut… up!’ It wasn’t just a joke; it was Nancy’s way of telling her to stop overthinking, to stop running from what fascinated her. To finally face it.

The memory struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her grief, her guilt, all of it collided with the absurdity of the situation. She started laughing. Quiet at first, then louder. Hysterical, almost, interlaced with deep sobs. The sound filled the car, rising and falling in waves until it finally ebbed.

Silvia leaned back, her chest heaving as the tension drained from her. She felt lighter. She could finally breathe again.

So she did that for a while. Just breathing.

Nancy was gone. But she wasn’t lost. She was still here—in the memories, in the little things they had shared. So was her mother. They both lived on in her, woven into her daily life. She wasn’t alone. She hadn’t been abandoned.

She touched the sticker and smiled. “Thanks, Nancy. I love you. And you’re right… as always.”

So Silvia stopped overthinking it and started the car. She drove to the cliff overlook where she and Nancy used to sit for hours, talking about everything and nothing. The cold sea breeze hit her face as she leaned against the stone wall, staring at the waves crashing below. She could almost feel Nancy beside her, the air around her alive with their shared memories.

Her thoughts slowed, her mind clearer than it had been in days. Nancy had helped her see the truth—about herself, her fascination, her purpose. This pull toward butchering wasn’t just about morbid fascination; it was about doing it right. She would have wanted her mother to have a butcher like Alexandra. Someone who honoured the women who came to them, respected their final moments, and ensured their sacrifice wasn’t wasted. If someone had to do it, it should be someone who cared. Maybe it would overwhelm her, but at least she could try.

The wind swept through her hair, cold and clean. It didn’t erase everything, but it cleared her head. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Alexandra or Helena must have done their jobs for years; they both appeared sane and stable, and they treated Nancy with respect, not like the next in line, waiting for their shift to end.

They weren’t monsters. That meant she wasn’t a monster either for wanting this. Silvia was not alone in her wanting to help in the only way possible.

The crashing waves below echoed the storm she’d just weathered. Just like after a violent summer storm, she felt battered, but clean and calmer. Silvia stayed a bit longer, just letting the wind and the waves do their work.

A cold gust made her shudder. It was time to head home. She pushed herself away from the cold stone wall, glancing one last time at the horizon. “Thanks, Nancy,” she whispered. “I’ll make you proud.”

Sliding back into the car, Silvia hesitated. She didn’t really want to go home, but it had to be done. She had shouted at her dad, thrown all her anger and pain at him. It wasn’t fair. He had tried to protect her; she knew that. He was just sometimes so… so... male!

The drive back was quiet. The sticker glinted faintly in the corner of her vision, a constant reminder of her resolve. When she pulled into the driveway, the house was dark except for the faint glow of the living room light. He was waiting.

She didn’t want another fight. He wouldn’t want one, either. They had played this out a couple of times. The last time had been when she wanted to discuss whether she was more into girls or boys. He had just put his fingers into his ears and said, “I don’t want to hear this! I don’t want to hear this!”

She breathed deeply and opened the door. Dad was on the couch, his hands clasped together. He looked up when he saw her, his face lined with worry but also relief.

“Silvi… Oh, Truth, I was so worried,” he started, standing up. Tears pooled in his eyes.

“Sorry for exploding like that,” Silvia said softly.

Her father shook his head. “Sorry, I was so pushy. I worry about you. I love you.”

She sat down on the couch, and he sat next to her. “I know. I understand that. You just asked questions I wasn’t ready to answer. But... I’ve thought about them. I needed to. And I still want to do this. I’m going to be a Girl Butcher.”

He studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “OK. It's not going to be easy for me, but I will be there for you.”

“It's not easy for me, either. I felt like a monster for wanting to do this. But it’s about giving women a good slaughter, a peaceful and painless one. They have to die; someone has to do it. If I can make even one of them feel like Nancy did—safe, respected, cared for—then it’s worth it.”

Her father exhaled, sinking back onto the couch. “You are right about that.” He nodded. “Yes, I can see that now. It would have helped me to know that your mother was treated well, not just like a number.” He looked at her. “Your mother was a practical person. She would have been proud of you.”

That just pushed her tears again. But good tears. Happy tears. Not tears of loss, but tears that connected her, her dad and her mother.

They hugged, and he cried as much as she did. After some time, he pulled back. “So… I made sure the strawberry cake is fine, and it's ready for you. You didn’t have any.” Then he let his head fall. “I’m sorry I ruined your celebration of Nancy’s sacrifice.”

“Shut… up. Give me my cake,” she said and smiled. He just stared at her in incomprehension. “Sorry, Dad. Something Nancy used to say. Please, I would like some cake.”

He nodded, and he watched her eat her cake. They talked about her mother, recalling old memories. Something that settled them both.

The next day in school was hard. In class, they announced that Nancy had been slaughtered, and then all the other students pestered her with questions. They knew she and Nancy had been best friends. They also knew she had missed the last two days. But she said nothing. Nothing about her last day, her slaughter. Nothing. She just said, “I don’t want to talk about it,” and slowly, they gave up and left her alone. They would not understand. She could not talk about her experience with them.

After school, she drove directly to Clapton. The receptionist was perplexed to see her again. “Hi, weren’t you here yesterday?”

“Yes, with my friend for her private slaughter. I would like to speak to the head butcher, Helena, please.”

The receptionist eyed her suspiciously. “In regard to?”

“I would like to become a Girl Butcher. She said she had an opening for an apprentice.”

The receptionist's eyes widened, and her mouth opened wide. Just staring at her. Then, she shook herself and regained her professionalism. “I will let her know. Would you like to wait? It will be a while. The morning group is being prepared for slaughter right now.”

“Sure, I will wait.”

It took more than two hours of sitting around before Helena showed up. “Hi, Silvia, I had not expected you back so soon. Can we talk while I eat? It’s a lot of work right now.”

They picked up some beef burgers from a shop and sat in a park in the sun. After Helena had wolfed down her burger, she asked, “So... why do you want to become a Girl Butcher?”

“I saw how Alexandra slaughtered Nancy, and I was relieved to see she went painlessly and with respect. I want to do that. I want to give women the respect they deserve.”

Helena chuckled, shaking her head. “An idealist, huh? Look, girl, this isn’t some noble calling. It’s hard, it’s messy, and it’s thankless. The livestock can’t thank you—they’re dead. And society? They see you as a walking reminder of the Lottery. Not a saviour. You think you’re ready for that?”

Silvia blinked, caught off guard. “I thought you wanted me as your apprentice,” she said, her voice faltering. This wasn’t how she had imagined it would go.

“I said I have an opening. I didn’t say you’re ready for it,” Helena said, leaning forward, her tone sharp. “Let me give you a reality check. You want this? Fine. Show me. Tomorrow, you’re here at noon to clean and sterilise the slaughter rooms. Then you’re back at five to clean after the second shift. Do it right, or don’t bother coming back.”

Silvia’s heart sank. This wasn’t what she had expected, but she understood. She would have to earn it.

“Okay,” she said, her voice steadying. “For how long?”

“Until you quit, or I decide you’re worth it,” Helena replied, her eyes narrowing. “Now get. Let me enjoy what’s left of my lunch break. And don’t be late. You show up late, you might as well not show up at all.”

From then on, every day was the same. Day in and day out, she scrubbed and sanitised the slaughter rooms, the prep rooms, and every tool in sight. She moved benches, cleaned and repositioned spreader bars, wiped down chains, and disinfected doors. The work was monotonous, except for one constant: Helena finding faults.

Helena always double-checked her work, sharp-eyed and relentless. A detail here, a corner there, a drop of blood on the bench. Some hair that had come loose. She always found something Silvia had missed.

The days when it was hardest weren’t about Helena’s nitpicking. They were about the mess the slaughters left behind. Helena and her dad had been right: she’d had one good experience, but now she was starting to see more of the reality of being a Girl Butcher.

A puddle of old piss pooling in the prep room. Blood splattered across the walls from a woman who had jerked a lot during her slaughter. And once, a strange sticky fluid that Helena said came from a woman squirting during her final orgasm. That one had been the worst—Silvia had to climb a ladder and scrub down the entire ceiling rail system, wiping clean every bolt and joint.

The monotony gave her time to think. About what she cleaned up. About how many bookings they had that day and how many women had been slaughtered. She wondered if they had all found a peaceful end, like Nancy had. Would she be able to do this herself someday?

What disturbed Silvia was that when she finished a room, there was no trace left of anyone dying in there. No stain, no hair, nothing. Just an empty room ready to be filled with another woman’s death.

Helena, Alexandra, and their apprentice Melissa always seemed close, heading out to a bar together after work. Silvia, though, was never invited. She watched them go, her thoughts churning.

Each evening, she dragged herself home, exhausted. Her muscles ached, her back throbbed, and the smell of bleach clung to her like a second skin. Her dad supported her by not asking too many questions and by preparing dinner so she could fall into bed and sleep. He seemed proud that she put in the work, but he was also unhappy that she had chosen this.

But he was there for her in the hard times. He supported her when she cleared out Nancy’s room with Nancy’s dads. It had been a month since her slaughter, and Nancy’s dads had made more peace with losing their daughter. It still wasn’t easy for them, but cleaning out her room helped them work through their grief.

Silvia had done a first round without them, getting rid of her sex toys and her beloved collection of slutty lingerie, as well as cleaning her computer. Her Dad especially cried a lot when they handled her childhood things, her plush elephant or her achievement certificates, but it also helped them deal with her absence. It would be a long path. It was for Silvia. She still grieved.

But every time she grieved, it also strengthened her resolve. Silvia kept coming back, doing the endless, thankless work that Helena dumped on her. And slowly, the reality of the job set in: being a Girl Butcher was gruelling, dirty, and relentless work. But Silvia didn’t shy away from it.

In school, she told the story that she had a cleaning job in a medical clinic, and that was accepted and not questioned. She didn’t believe that anyone would understand her. The last thing she needed was her fellow students asking around what she was really doing.

Silvia knew how they would react to her wanting to become a Girl Butcher, the same way she would have. A Girl Butcher had taken her mum from her. But now she knew better. The system had taken her mum away from her, not the butcher. But still, she understood: the system was an impersonal entity; a Girl Butcher was a person.

From time to time, there were also moments at work that were interesting, like cleaning and storing away the special equipment for customisations. That was what fascinated her—the enormous St Andrew’s Cross with its dizzying array of configurations, the gallows, the beheading block with its fake blood crustings on it, and the fake straw that could be washed and disinfected. What did they do with all this? Why would someone choose this?

And then there were the harder moments. The moments that freaked her out. Like the time she had to clean up after a woman who must have been flayed alive—nothing else made sense. The blood and tissue left behind told a story Silvia wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.

Why would anyone choose pain when they already had to die?

She turned the question over in her mind as she worked, but there was no answer that satisfied her. Silvia herself was fascinated by the idea of being dismembered while she could watch. See her boobs become Tits, her legs Shanks, have one last orgasm before her Cunt was cut out. But she also knew that she wouldn’t be able to stand the pain. That was just a stupid fantasy.

In the end, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t her choice to understand. It was theirs. They wanted it, and that meant they had to be happy with it.

The measuring was straightforward and took little time. Mindy led them to a large box, and the laser scanner measured every inch of their bodies.

​“I know slaves would be cheaper and more personal, especially with the current population explosion and economic downturn, but this is more reliable. Next one,” Mindy commented to no one in particular.

​For Andrea, it didn’t make much difference. Slave or machine, she was treated like an animal. George wasn’t sure what to think. His parents could have just sold him as a slave, and maybe he still could be. Julia didn’t care; she just stood still and made sure she was measured correctly so any new tack would sit just right. For Maria, a machine was easier—nobody to interact with. Just stand and be scanned.

​After they were done, Mindy led them to the back end of the stables. Maria and George on one hand, Julia and Andrea on the other. Andrea felt crowded by Julia stepping around like she was on parade. Who was she trying to impress? Julia, on the other hand, tried to get back into her pretty pony self. Trying to forget the vet and her parents. Trying to be a proper pony.

​George behaved; cumming had somehow made him a bit more relaxed. This was still frightening. He had gotten used to the dildo gag, but it still was a constant reminder of how far he had fallen.

​Maria was hopeful; her training had paid off, but would it be enough? She had never had real sex. She had been lucky that her father had been able to protect both sisters from rape in the slums. It had been close a couple of times.

​They arrived outside the other end of the barn, where a group of late teenage girls and boys were busy preparing fodder.

​“Oh, look, there they are. Wow, look at the palomino, she is pretty.”

​“I like the chestnut one better. Look at her awesome tits. Makes you want to suck on them.”

​“Enough chitchat!” Mindy’s voice shut them up. “Back to work. You are stable hands. If you ever want to become a seasoned rider, you have to work. It will be a long time before any one of you is allowed to suck on anything. Now, take one pony and hand feed it, as you have seen in the demonstration video before. Talk to it and pat it while you feed it. Learn how to care for them, and do it properly.”

​The overenthusiastic stable hands scrambled to take the reins out of Mindy’s hands.

​Mindy took George by his halter. “George, behave, or it will be another strike. The vet just gave me a good reason to keep your balls attached.”

​The girl grabbing for his lead asked enthusiastically, “He gets gelded? Can I watch?”

​“Only if he misbehaves more. Will you be tame?” Mindy asked.

​George nodded, and the little girl looked disappointed. Mindy sent the girl to fetch a standard bridle and then took his gag bridle out.

​She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for him to shout or speak, but he just let his head hang and took deep breaths.

​“There you go.” Mindy petted his flank. “You can become a good colt and an even better stallion. Looks like we’ll just get you to cum more. As soon as the protection in the fillies sets in, we will have you cover them. Especially Julia, she needs some training.”

​George liked the idea of getting off in the women… fillies, whatever. That would be some fun, at least. Something to look forward to. Something that would make this more bearable. Something he was good at.

​The new bridle was attached to him, but the bit remained out of his mouth. The girl led the huge colt away to the side.

​Maybe he would come around, maybe not. Mindy had no investment either way. Just the task of re-educating and taming them. She didn’t care if he would lose his balls in the process or not.

​She had seen it all in the last 20 years she had been working for the Farm. Not much surprised her anymore. She knew Andrea and Julia types. George was easy to figure out. Colts normally were.

​Only Maria was new to this equation. She had paid her way into the programme, and judging from what she had seen in the morning, she brought new blood to the old game, maybe even establishing a new bloodline.

​Mindy made sure to keep an eye out for her. The first two days were the hardest for new ponies, and she hadn’t had her freak-out yet.

 

For Andrea, it felt even worse, being talked about in the third person as if she were just a thing and led around by some boy. She wanted to sit down and rest, but there was nowhere to sit. They were made to stand while being fed.

​Realisation set in again. Realisation that her life, as she had known it, had come to an end. Realisation that she had no say anymore about any aspect of her life or even her body. Realisation that giving in and submitting were the only available choices for her.

​Again, tears rolled down Andrea’s face. The boy petted her back and her head. “Don’t cry, my little chestnut. Everything will be all right. We will look after you. Here, have a carrot.”

​The girls and boys were young, and most of them couldn’t even be considered adults yet, but they had already been introduced to this lifestyle. She herself had known since she was a little girl what a pony was and what it was for. They were as much a fact of life as slaves were. Except, slaves were common, but ponies were a luxury. She had often attended parties where the owners presented their ponies, but she had never aspired to own one much less becoming one. Now, she had no choice.

​Julia, if she had heard that right, had grown up in a stable, and that would have made it easier for her. She probably had never experienced what it was like to have free will. She would not understand how hard it was for Andrea to strangle her own free will in order to survive this with an intact mind.

​The boy took her bit out and put a carrot in front of her, and she ate it out of his hand. She was hungry, but the humiliation burned with each bite. While she did that, the boy kept on petting her and talked softly to her about how good a pony she was.

​As she was given a sweet apple, she could not take it anymore. She pulled at the lead, trying to dislodge it, and screamed. “I’m not a fucking pony! I’m a person. I’m a woman.”

​The boy held on to her lead even as she tried to pull away. A searing pain spread out on her back, and she screamed out in pain. Another blow of a whip hit her stomach, and she doubled over as more and more blows of Mindy’s whip hit her.

​“Ponies have no words,” she said angrily, raining more blows on Andrea’s body. Each impact made her cry out in pain. She could not defend against them; her arms were tied. She could not run away from them; the boy held her lead steady. She could only move around, but whichever way she turned, the whip was there.

​Andrea finally broke down on the ground, sobbing and crying. Even shouting for her cursed mummy, but still, the blows came.

​“Get back up on your hooves. This won’t stop until you stand and be silent. Ponies stand. Ponies have no words.”

​It took the last of her willpower to stand up, and as soon as she did, Mindy stopped her assault. Andrea's whole body burned from the welts of the whip. Her back, her front, her legs, her arms, her tits.

​Mindy put her bit in again. “Take her over to the side. Wipe her down and water her. If she behaves, you can feed her again. Andrea, that is one strike.”

​Andrea felt like she would lose the will to live. With a hanging head, she followed the boy's lead.

​It was much easier for Maria, so easy! They gave her food, and they petted her. She had only to open her mouth, and food was offered freely and easily, just like that. She was petted, and it felt like she was playing with her little sister.

​She watched in horror as Andrea balked and came unhinged, and was reined in mercilessly with Mindy’s whip until she was a sobbing, crying mess with red stripes marking her body. It wasn’t the violence of it—she was used to seeing this on a daily basis—it was the way that Andrea had lost it.

​She would not do that. She knew what she had signed up for, and so far, she could deal with it. But she also knew it wouldn’t last. She knew she had to give up who she was. Change. She was just afraid she would forget about her little sister and her father. The sole reason she was here.

​Julia just enjoyed the attention and the food. She had been used to this from early childhood. People feeding her and petting her. Still, the vet visit was grinding at her. How was it that she was not prepared to get fucked by a stallion or a rider as she was supposed to?

​It distressed her a lot. She had seen her mother and father used as they should be, but somehow, this had never transferred to her. She was a bad pony. Pretty but useless.

​George was confused. More confused than he had ever been in his entire life. The whipping he had just witnessed and the one he had endured in the morning. The cumming that had been so intense, like never before. And now that little girl was holding his lead, patting him on his back and talking softly to him. He would never have allowed anyone to handle him like that. It all made no sense.

​At the moment, he could do nothing but just accept what was offered. He really was afraid of that woman. She would take his balls, and she would smile while doing it. He was sure of it. Nobody in his life had ever exercised that much strict control over him. It frightened him.

​“Hey, Blacky.” The girl pulled hard on his reins, drawing his head way down to her level. “Eat more.” She pushed a cooked potato in front of his mouth.

​Another girl grabbed at his lead, pulling his head around sharply. “It’s my turn to feed him.”

​The pain of the last pull made him shout out, and he hoped that he would not be whipped. But retribution came swiftly. Just not the way he had thought it would.

​Mindy stepped in between the two girls and pulled his lead out of their hands. Then she stroked his head.

​“Calm. All is good. Mindy is here. Calm. Settle down. That’s good. Good colt. Here is a treat.” She gave him a chocolate treat. It confused him even more. Then she patted his arse, turned to the girls, and slapped each of them hard in the face.

​“If you want to end up in a bridle instead of holding one, I can make that happen. Your parents wouldn’t care either way. Against the wall, kneel, and stay there.”

​“Come, George, we'll find you a better stable hand.” She led him away, and he followed her, not because he had no choice, but because he wanted to. His mind spun out of control even more.

​After handing the colt off to another stable hand, a boy this time, Mindy went and checked out Andrea. She had calmed down—just sobbing and chewing on a carrot while the boy rub her down.

​“If you want to baulk like that again, choose sounds, not words. The words got you the punishment, not the baulking. You understand? Stomp once.”

​And with a visible shudder, she did.

​“Good filly. It will take time. For someone like you, it will be a few days before you can let go of your old identity and become the pony and the mare you need to be.”

​She stroked her while the boy used alcohol-drenched wipes to brush her down, making her shiver and sob as the alcohol bit into her wounds.

​“Clean her butt too. She went earlier. Then put the calendula salve on her welts. That should make them heal well without leaving marks on her.”

Julia stomped multiple times, getting Mindy’s attention. Mindy signalled the stable hand holding her. “Take her over there so she can go. And clean her butt after. Stop making such a face. This is also part of what a rider has to do in order to have the right to own a pony. Andrea, Maria, watch and learn how it is done properly.”

 Julia leaned forward and pushed her butt out, letting her manure drop to the ground. Then she shifted, opening her legs wider to pee, effortlessly keeping her legs clean.

​Andrea was past caring. Even if pee were running down her legs, she would not care anymore. She accepted a piece of apple from the boy without even looking at it. Maria watched in slight embarrassment.

​After they had been fed, they were given a bucket of water to drink out of.

​“OK, stable hands, clean this all up. I will see you later so you can brush them down and give them another feed.”

​ ​She gathered her herd and led them around the stable to a horse walker that looked like an enormous rotary clothesline. It consisted of a central pole with metal stakes extending from it and a line stretched around its circumference.

​“Ponies need to have strong leg muscles as they need to stand a lot, walk, and run. This will help build up muscles.”

​She clipped each of their leads onto one of the metal poles with a lot of space between them.

​She then smacked Julia's butt hard, and the pony started to walk, pulling everyone by their leads and forcing them to also walk in a circle. Andrea felt like she was on a carousel.

​Mindy left and returned a minute later with two real horses. “Whoa, Julia. Halt.” Julia pulled hard at her lead, stopping the others.

​Mindy clipped the two horses onto either side of the carousel and smacked the last one. They started at a quick pace, and the ponies had a hard time keeping up.

​Mindy left, and the horses continued pulling them along relentlessly. At one stage, Maria stumbled and struggled hard not to fall. She cried out with pain as her neck had to take the extra strain. Andrea pulled back hard, taking the strain off the horses and trying to slow them down, giving Maria time to find her feet again. George helped, too. Maria managed to get her feet back under her body and sent them both a thankful look. Only pretty Julia had walked on, lifting her legs off the ground as if she were on parade.

Later, the horse in front of Julia lifted its tail, and manure dumped into her path. She struggled to get around it. Maria, after her, just ploughed through it. This was nothing compared to the slums. After a few more rounds of struggling hard each time to evade it, Julia finally stepped carefully through it. She hated getting dirty.

​George peed and just let it run. There was nothing he could do. Andrea was just happy she had gone earlier. This would have cost her the last shred of humanity she was trying to hold onto.

​It had been hard enough already when that boy had cleaned her butt.

​ They were left on the carousel for hours, walking in endless, mind-numbing circles. They started to tire, but the horses kept on pulling them along. Julia had stopped her high-stepping long ago.

​As the sun started to go down, Mindy returned, stopped the horses, and took them off. All the ponies were exhausted and parched. Their leg muscles were tight and worn out. Their bodies were exhausted, only wanting rest.

​After the horses, it was their turn to be taken off the carousel and led back to where the stable hands were.

​“Give them the special bottle and then brush them down. They are dirty. After that, give them some of the special fodder and massage their muscles.”

​The stable hands took over the ponies again, starting to talk to them in soft tones and pet them, numbing their minds further and letting them sink deeper into their new roles.

​Andrea understood the process: what they were doing, how they did it, and the unavoidable end. She was just too tired to fight it anymore. There was no other way. She had to lose her mind and become a pony.

​She remembered her mother’s words from this morning. Her father was a stallion and must have gone through the same process. Her mother must have once been one of these girls. Both of them seemed normal on the surface. She had trouble following that train of thought. She was just too tired now.

​Their bits were removed, and they were given a large bottle with a nipple on it, held up above their heads so they had to suck on it. It was a kind of sports drink. While they drank greedily, the stable hands rubbed their stomachs.

​“That’s a good pony. Drink slowly.”

​After the bottle was empty, they were given a bucket of water.

​Maria wondered if they would ever really need their arms again. Julia’s were attached to her chic harness, comfortably lying parallel to each other behind her back. Hers and everyone else’s were just bound together behind their backs. They could move them a bit. Julia could not, but she seemed all right. She must have been used to this from an early age. She wondered if it would make it easier.

​It didn’t. Julia was struggling. Her legs were hurting, and she was tired and dirty. Her vulva was in agony and sore from the vet, and somewhere deep inside of her, it hurt.

​This was not how she had envisioned it. She had thought she would be made pretty; her mane would be groomed, and her body oiled, just as her mother had been prepared by her rider.

​Instead, she had been made to walk for hours and hours, through manure and behind a real, stinking horse that occasionally farted in her face. This was not the life she had wanted.

​At least now, the stable hands looked after her. They took brushes and rubbed the dirt off her. What she really hated was that her brand-new white harness and bridle were dirty. She had been so proud of them this morning when her father had given them to her.

​Her mother had spent hours grooming her, waxing her legs and her vulva to perfection, oiling her body, and brushing her mane out.

​Now, she was a mess. Sweaty, she properly stunk, and her mane was full of dust.

​The stable hands only brushed her down, nothing more. Just the topmost layer of dirt.

​Finally, tears of realisation ran down her face. Not tears of pain like with the vet, but the realisation that her life would be entirely different from what they had led her to believe.

​George was okay. He worked out regularly and had not skimped on leg days. He was just parched. The endless circles had calmed him down more than he had thought possible. His mind had stopped at some stage, and he fell into something close to a trance. Just walking in circles. Even when he had to pee, he just let it go. Not caring. He had seldom experienced this peacefulness before.

​The two girls scrubbed him down, removing some of the dust and dirt. But their hands on his body and their soft touches also made his dick stand up.

​These were girls, and he felt embarrassed by his body’s reaction. The girls only giggled and pointed at his dick, making it even worse.

​Mindy came over. “Just like with the fillies, clean their bits with a damp cloth. With a colt, you need to clean here and there. Otherwise, he can get infected, and we don't need that.”

​She took a damp cloth and cleaned his sheath around the hood area, making sure she cleaned under the hood. Then she moved to the fillies and checked that their vulvas were cleaned properly, too.

​They were given more water, and then bowls with a kind of muesli were set before them. It wasn’t easy for them to eat out of them. They had to bend forward and use their tongues to scoop the content up. But it worked; they were hungry, and the muesli contained some steamed vegetables, jam, and soya bits to make it a complete meal that they readily ate. All the while, they were petted and spoken to.

​Andrea had to pee, and with a tear in her eye for losing one more bit of her humanity, she stomped three times, and one of the stable hands led her away to the side. She tried to do it like Julia, but she only managed to pee on her leg.

​“Now see what you have done. You stupid filly, you can’t even pee right. Now I have to clean you up all over again.” The girl smacked her hard on the arse. “Do you need to drop some manure, too? Or are you going to wait until I have cleaned you up again?”

​She was smacked on her arse again by the sassy young girl, and one more tear rolled down her cheek as she shook her head.

​Mindy put them back into their stalls. Maria found that her stall had been cleaned, and the previous wet patch of her pee was gone.

​Their leads were attached to a lower ring that enabled them to lie down, and after a long day on their feet, they sank down into the straw.

​“It’s time for you to sleep, and I have your good night treats for you. The worst pony of the day will get her vulva or his balls smacked with the crop, and the other three will get to cum. Aren’t you excited to know who gets to cum?”

​Mindy slapped her crop on the wall, getting their attention.

​“Did I mention that when you cum, I want you to neigh and toss your mane? No? Well, you better, or it’s the crop after getting to cum. Not very pleasant. Let me hear you neigh.”

​Julia neighed immediately, and Maria tried. George did a good imitation, and Andrea reluctantly did, too. Not very enthusiastically. It was just another facet she was to lose.

​Mindy opened Maria’s stall first. “Open your legs, pony. Show me your vulva. That’s good.” She took a portable vibrator and put it directly on her clit, making her gasp and then moan.

​“Yes, isn’t that nice? Are you already ready to cum? That was fast. Let it all out. Neigh like a good pony that gets to cum.”

​Maria panted loudly as she came and then let out a neigh after. She had never come like that. She had always been careful not to get caught by her little sister or her father, or overheard by their neighbours. Here, she just let go. Mindy wanted her to cum, and she did. She had forgotten about the neighing. She must make sure to do it right.

​Mindy petted her tits. “You didn’t do it right, but I think you are not used to cumming. So, for this time, I will have mercy. Here, let’s train this. Neigh.” Mindy grabbed her vulva and put a finger in her and one on her clit. Obedient Maria neighed.

​“That’s a good pony.”

​She gave her a treat, closed her stall, and opened George’s. “What do you think you get? Crop or vibrator? Open your legs and find out. Oh! It’s the vibrator. Ah, you like that. You have been behaving well the second half.”

​She took his balls and played with them, squeezing them a bit while holding the vibrator onto his dick directly on the little piece of flesh under the head. He neigh-grunted loudly as he came, and his seed spilt everywhere.

​“That’s a good colt. Good load,” she said and patted his chest.

​Next was Andrea, and she also got the vibrator, leaving Julia to get the crop.

​“Do a good neigh. You are seasoned in getting off. Show them you can do it better.”

​She had to concentrate on her arousal and keep control, but she managed it. As she came, instead of shouting out something incoherent as she normally did, she snorted and neighed.

​“Did you hear that? That’s how it is done. Good pony. I’m so proud of you.”

​Andrea let herself drop into the straw; she was confused why she felt so good about what Mindy had said.

​“So, Julia, I can see the fear in your eyes. That’s good. You are probably wondering why you got the crop, you being such a perfect pony already? One of your herd stumbled on the carousel, and you didn’t care. You are a herd. You stay together. Now open your legs.”

​Fearfully, she opened them, and Mindy let her crop smack onto her clit, making her scream into her bit. “I was giving you three to start with, but if you close your legs, we will start over. Yes, my darling, that’s how it is. Your little pony tears won’t help you. Same as your perfect presentation won’t help you. You are just another pony now, nothing special.”

​Julia opened her legs again, trying hard not to close them as the crop came hard down on her clit. She ended up getting seven strokes until she managed to keep her legs open three times in a row.

​“Well. You will get better with that. You others, too. This is one of my fun games, and I enjoy it. So, you will learn to enjoy it too over the next weeks. Now, good night.”

​Mindy left, and the lights went off. Julia was sobbing silently. Andrea tried to go to sleep but couldn’t. Mindy had said weeks, and again, she realised this would never end. She cried herself to sleep.

​George tried to find a position to sleep. His cum was still all over his body and started to dry and get sticky. He could do nothing, so he did nothing.

​Maria was asleep fast. Except for the exhaustion from the carousel, this day had been much easier than many others in her life. It hadn’t involved giving her only meal of the day to her little sister and going hungry to sleep herself. Or listening to one of her neighbours getting raped, beaten, or murdered. Yes, George had been beaten, and so had Andrea. But there had been a reason for it. They had broken a rule. It wasn’t mindless, unprovoked, irrational violence, and that made all the difference.

Silvia focused on the road, not sure what to say. Nancy sat beside her, silent, staring out the window.

“Tell me about your mother,” Nancy said all of a sudden, and it threw her. They had never really talked about it. So she told her some funny stories she remembered.

Nancy still looked out of her window. “I have never told you this. My birth mother was slaughtered right after giving birth to me. I was lucky. She was a bit more than six months along. If her letter had come earlier, I would have died with her.” She paused. “Maybe that would have been better. The only difference is... I’m now grown Girl meat.”

Nancy still looked out of the window.

Silvia punched her leg. ““No, you’re not. You’re Nancy. I wouldn’t have survived seventh grade without you. Remember Ms Schulz?”

“Oh, Truth! Ms Schulz,” Nancy wailed. “She was such a bore! How could anyone stay awake?”

Silvia smiled as she let Nancy ranted about Ms Schulz. Good, Ms Schulz was good for something after all.

They arrived and parked. “Want me to come in?”

Nancy stared at the building with wide eyes and nodded, unable to move. So Silvia got out, took her by the hand, and guided her inside.

It was really nice here. Colours, artwork, plants, and the smell of lavender.

“Wow. It is actually pretty nice,” said Nancy, sounding like herself again. Silvia relaxed a bit more as she saw her friend relax.

They walked up to the reception and checked her in.

The receptionist scanned Nancy’s birth chip and asked them to wait. The ordinary routine of it relaxed Nancy. The receptionist wasn’t much older than her, of slaughterable age, and that helped too. Silvia had spoken to her, and she was as friendly as she had been on the phone. It somehow made this all less weird, more like a doctor’s appointment.

“Can my friend come with me?” Nancy asked the receptionist.

“Not without volunteering. But if you wish, she can watch your slaughter from the viewing gallery.”

“Yes, please,” Nancy said, and Silvia stared at Nancy with wide eyes. But she just shrugged her shoulders. “Shut... up! You were always curious how it is done. And this way I won’t feel alone when... Please.”

“OK. I will do that.” Silvia nodded. If that would help Nancy, then she would do it.

They sat together in the waiting room, holding hands. It felt calm. Some low-level music and the ever-present smell of lavender.

“I’m nervous,” Nancy admitted, though her voice was rather steady.

“I know. I would be too. Breathe with me. It will be over soon. It won’t hurt.” Silvia squeezed her hand.

Nancy just sat and breathed for a while. “Thanks, Silvia. You have been an amazing friend. I really hope you have a long, good life. I really do.”

“Thanks, Nancy. You have been the only friend who really understood me.” Silvia said, meaning it.

Silvia didn’t know what else to say, and looking at Nancy, she didn’t either, so they sat a bit longer in silence as another woman arrived to wait.

“Your dads will be fine,” Silvia spoke up again. “My dad is already looking after them as we speak.” That jerked her around. “I will make sure they are OK too. I promise.”

“That means a lot to me, thanks.” And her eyes started to tear up.

“Stop it. You're ruining my mascara!” Silvia said in an artificial voice. It was a standard joke between them, just like the “Shut... up” that Nancy used with her. Silvia seldom wore makeup. It made Nancy smile a bit, and that was all it needed to do.

Then, it was time for Nancy to enter the first door with three other women. A friendly young woman dressed in white medical scrubs had come with a clipboard to usher them through the door marked preparation.

Nancy and Silvia hugged, and they had a hard time letting go.

“It is time,” the friendly voice of the female assistant reminded them, and Silvia watched her friend go through the door to her slaughter.

Silvia was not sure how she felt. This was different from her mother, so very different. She understood now how this all worked. Then, she hadn’t, couldn’t. It didn’t make it any easier to lose her best friend, but it made it easier to understand that there was no alternative. No escape. Once selected, slaughter came next. That was what it came down to. The only thing left for them was to find a better way to be processed.

Silvia felt taskless. Until now, Nancy had been her focus. Making it easier for her to get here. To not fall apart. Now she had to trust that female assistant to help and steer her. Silvia was reduced to a spectator.

“Hi, would you please follow me to the viewing gallery?” The receptionist’s voice pulled her back to reality. She must have stood there for a while; her legs felt stiff.

The receptionist guided Silvia to the viewing gallery, explaining the communication system, but she barely listened. She tried to see everything, even though there was really nothing much to see.

The viewing gallery was connected to the slaughter room by a large, thick glass wall. That made sense too, because... stop it!

The door at the back was labelled ‘Preparation’, but the door had no handles on this side. A ceiling rail system led from that door to the centre of the room and from there to the other door labelled ‘Cold Storage’.

This was a slaughter room, but not any she could have imagined. She had imagined something sterile, totally white, with bright lights, metal, and tiles.

This room was bare and clinical, sure; it had to be because food would be handled here, and it needed disinfection. Silvia tried to rein her brain in again. Still, this room looked nice. The darker tiling had shades from dark at the bottom to lighter towards the ceiling, and the soft lighting made it look almost like a dark moonlit night. It felt... peaceful... somehow. She just hoped it would help Nancy be less afraid.

The gallery smelled of lavender and sandalwood but had the same lighting as the slaughter room in front of her. Silvia sat down on one of the comfortable chairs, and somehow, it annoyed her to no end that they were comfortable. She was witnessing the slaughter of her friend; it shouldn’t be comfortable! She stood up and moved to the glass. That was better.

After about twenty minutes, the ‘Preparation’ door to the slaughter room opened. Nancy was brought in by two women in white aprons. Nancy’s butchers. Silvia’s breath caught at the sight of her friend.

Nancy hung naked upside down, her legs spread wide by a spreader bar, her arms tied neatly behind her back. Her hair was in a smooth bun, her body glowing faintly under the soft light. Her boobs hung grotesquely the wrong way. She looked nervous—her eyes darting—until they found Silvia.

“Hi, Silvi.” Nancy’s voice trembled, but there was a small smile.

“Hi, Nance. How…” she had to swallow to get the dryness out of her throat. “How are you doing?”

Nancy gave her a smirk. “Ask me again in a minute.” She bit her lip. “Nervous, but... not afraid... Thanks, Silvi.”

The older woman crouched down next to Nancy, stroking her face with a gentle smile. “You are so brave. I’m so proud of you,” she said softly. “I’m Alexandra, and this is Melissa,” she added with a brief glance to Silvia before turning her full attention back to Nancy. “Nancy, darling, would you like to say anything before we begin?”

Nancy’s lips quivered. She looked directly at Silvia. “I love you, Silvi. Please take care of my dads.”

“I love you too,” Silvia said, her voice cracking. Tears were now rolling freely down both their faces.

As they spoke, Melissa slid a yellow plastic container beneath Nancy. Silvia’s brain told her it was for her blood, but she ignored it, focusing on her friend, being there for her last minutes. Alexandra knelt beside her, stroking her cheek and wiping away tears. Melissa handed her a knife behind Nancy’s back so as not to spook her.

“OK, darling,” Alexandra murmured softly to her, like a lover or a mother would. “Melissa will now put a vibrator on your clit. When you cum, I will slit your throat, and then you will drift off peacefully. You won’t feel a thing. Relax into the pleasure and just let go.”

One last orgasm and going out in that maelstrom of ecstasy? Silvia had not thought that possible. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. It was almost poetic. Like an orgasm creates life, here it ended it.

The younger woman put a vibrator wand on Nancy’s clit, and her body jerked in response to the pleasure that spread through her. Nancy moaned loudly and with ecstasy, letting go completely.

“Be as loud as you like, darling. Let it all out,” Alexandra whispered, her hand kneading Nancy’s breast, teasing her nipples. In her other hand, the knife glinted under the soft light. Silvia couldn’t look away.

Nancy had closed her eyes, her moans turning into sharp, joyous cries. It was strangely arousing, watching her friend letting go so fully. Nancy’s body arched, her moans rising in volume and frequency. Then her eyes flew open, and she came with a shout.

Alexandra moved swiftly, pulling Nancy’s head back and slicing her throat in one clean motion. Her orgasmic moans dissolved into gurgles as a crimson arc of blood sprayed into the container below.

“She’s still coming,” Alexandra said softly, turning to Silvia, while her hand still massaged Nancy’s breasts and Melissa held the vibrator to her clit. “She’s in a world of her own right now. She only feels pleasure while she drifts away.”

Silvia could see how Nancy’s body trembled, her lips quivering, her eyes bright with what looked like… bliss, while her blood sprayed out of her cut throat into the container below.

Silvia’s tears ran unhindered. She felt her chest tighten. It was... it was almost... beautiful…bizarre. Silvia could not find words. Nancy’s life had ended not in fear or pain, but in ecstasy.

The blood flow started to ebb to a slow drip. Nancy’s body relaxed more and more, and her eyes lost their brightness. Finally, the blood only dripped into the container, and her eyes stared at nothing. Silvia stared at them, a pit forming in her stomach. Was this where the person lived?

“Heart stopped. Birth chip shows no brain functions. She is gone,” announced Alexandra slowly. Then she stood up and turned to Silvia. “Are you OK?”

Silvia nodded. As OK as she could be. She so desperately wanted to touch Nancy’s face one last time, but the glass wall kept them apart. The tears came again.

Alexandra stepped forward. “Nancy asked me to do two things,” Alexandra said, smirking slightly as if unsure of how to proceed. She paused before adding, “First... she told me to tell you, ‘Shut... up!’”

Silvia burst out laughing, the sound caught somewhere between sobs and hysteria. Fucking Nancy... that was so her. She laughed harder, her tears flowing down her cheeks.

Alexandra gave her a moment, her expression soft and understanding. “The second thing she asked was... if I could show you how we butcher her body.” Alexandra hesitated, her eyes studying Silvia’s face. “Are you sure you want to see this? It’s bloody, messy work.”

“Can I?” Silvia asked, her voice laced with excitement, before she caught herself, exhaling sharply as she realised how it sounded.

Alexandra studied her carefully, her eyes scanning for hesitation. After a moment, she nodded. “Sure. But do me a favour—grab one of those paper bags on your right. You might need it.”

Silvia reached for the bag, confused, until she realised what it was for. For my breakfast, if it comes up.

“OK, Silvia, I’m going to open her abdomen now and remove the intestines and her internal organs.” Alexandra’s tone was calm, almost clinical, yet there was a gentleness to it.

Alexandra began at Nancy’s pubic bone, slicing cleanly upward to her sternum and then across her hips. Silvia sucked in air, expecting her body to wiggle and scream, but there was no reaction.

Alexandra expanded the incision with practised precision, exposing the cavity. A soft, grey-yellow mass spilled outward, and Alexandra carefully began removing it piece by piece.

Silvia leaned closer, her eyes wide with fascination. She had seen anatomical drawings, but this, this was so much different. She could see the yellowish fat layer, the red muscle meat, the tiny traces of blood, her intestines. It was more than fascinating. Alexandra worked methodically, her hands steady despite the blood smearing her apron. Every movement was deliberate, almost graceful.

“Nancy, you always understood me,” Silvia whispered, half to herself.

Alexandra glanced at her but didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she started to comment, explaining what she was doing, which organs went into which containers, and why. Silvia listened intently, absorbing every word.

Once the yellow container was full and smaller ones had been filled with other usable organs, Alexandra straightened, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m going to cut her head off next. Would you like to say anything to her beforehand?”

Silvia leaned against the glass, wanting to be close to her, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. “Nancy, thank you for this gift. You always understood me. I love you.”

Alexandra frowned slightly, her expression unreadable, but she quickly replaced it with a soft smile. She knelt beside Nancy, while Melissa took hold of her hair bun. “Thank you for contributing to a better tomorrow,” Alexandra said, her voice sincere. She closed Nancy’s eyes gently before slicing through the remaining tissue and bone.

The head came off cleanly.

“What happens to the head?” Silvia asked, her curiosity breaking through her initial hesitation.

Alexandra turned, studying her with a thoughtful expression. “You don’t seem too affected by this.”

“I am. I’m… sorry,” Silvia stammered.

“Fascinated?” Alexandra asked.

Silvia nodded, her voice barely audible. “Yes.”

Alexandra exchanged a look with Melissa before speaking again. “Do you want to see the rest? Until she’s packaged?” She held up Nancy’s severed head by the bun, the blood still dripping from the neck, her eyes closed.

Silvia stared at it, her breath catching. She looked peaceful. Nancy’s face was still recognisable, but the spark that had made her Nancy was gone. What remained was a hollow shadow, a lifeless shell. Without the head, the body felt even less like her friend and more like… a carcass.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind: ‘It’s just meat. The person is gone.’

“I’d like to see everything,” Silvia said finally, her voice stronger. “If I’m not in the way.”

Alexandra nodded. “Go to reception. Melissa will meet you there. You need to be clean before coming into a food preparation area.”

“Understood. Thank you!” Silvia said, her excitement betraying her unease. She left the gallery, dropping the unused paper bag into the bin, her thoughts swirling with emotions and unanswered questions.

After showering and scrubbing down, she was outfitted in crisp white scrubs and led into the butcher room. Four naked, headless carcasses hung on spreader bars, swaying slightly. Silvia froze, her breath catching.

“You okay?” Alexandra asked, her voice calm but firm. “If it’s too much, go back through that door. And please, don’t vomit in here—I’m taking a huge gamble letting you stay.”

“No, I’m fine,” Silvia said quickly, her voice thin. She hesitated, staring at the hanging bodies. “It’s just… I can’t tell which one was Nancy.”

Alexandra nodded, walked over, and pulled one carcass along the ceiling rails toward a large steel table. “This one. This was your friend. She stopped being Nancy when she died. Now this is a carcass, just like the other three.”

Silvia stepped closer, her gaze darting between the carcass and the others. Her mind reeled. It was meat. Just meat. Expensive Girl meat.

Alexandra studied her for a moment. “Do you want to hold her head?” she asked, gesturing toward a smaller table.

Silvia’s eyes widened. There, Nancy’s head rested on its side. Her first thought, absurdly, was that she didn’t look comfortable. She felt silly for even thinking it.

“You can’t touch anything else in here but the head,” Alexandra continued. “We haven’t put it into the incinerator yet.”

Silvia’s hands trembled as she approached. She reached out, hesitating, then touched Nancy’s cheek. It was still warm, the skin soft, so familiar and yet utterly foreign. It felt just like it always had, but something was missing. She stroked the cheek as she studied the head. It reminded her of Nancy. But... it wasn’t her anymore.

“So? Is that still your friend Nancy?” Silvia almost jumped as a new voice sounded beside her.

“Hi, Silvia. I’m Helena, the head butcher.”

Silvia turned to see a woman in a blood-spattered apron, her presence both commanding and oddly comforting. Helena chuckled as Silvia glanced back at the head.

“No, silly—I’m the head butcher, not the butcher of heads. Well, sometimes,” Helena said with a wry grin.

Silvia flushed. “Sorry,” she muttered, unsure of what for.

“Is that still Nancy to you?” Helena asked again.

Silvia studied the head. “I don’t know... it’s her head, but... she isn’t there anymore... I don’t know.”

Helena nodded. “Your friend died and left this body in the slaughter room.”

Silvia touched the head’s cheeks again. The skin felt colder already.

“Put it into that chute over there,” Helena instructed, pointing to an opening at the far wall. “It feeds into the incinerator. We don’t use heads here.”

Silvia blinked, pulling her hands back. She hesitated. Putting Nancy’s head into a chute, into an incinerator? Everything told her this was just a head, but something in her still whispered it was still Nancy.

No, this only reminded her of Nancy. It wasn’t her anymore. She remembered her smiling and even moaning just minutes ago. But... no... this was... just a head. Deliberately, she reached out again, but then stopped. She wasn’t sure how to hold it.

“Grab the bun,” Helena said softly. “That’s what it’s there for. But hold tight. Don’t drop it. It makes a mess, and it’s just disrespectful.”

Silvia wrapped her fingers around the neat bun. The head was lighter than she expected, yet holding it was gruesome—holding a severed head—but it wasn’t Nancy anymore.

“Take it to the chute,” Helena continued, her tone matter-of-fact. “Once the head’s gone, it’s easier to focus on the rest of the carcass. It helps with emotional detachment.”

Silvia nodded. That made sense. She hadn’t even been able to recognise Nancy’s carcass among the others—it was just meat now.

Gripping the bun tightly, she carried the head to the chute, her steps deliberate, and dropped it in. Helena had been right. As soon as the chute closed, Silvia exhaled. This wasn’t Nancy anymore. It hadn’t been since the blood stopped flowing.

As she turned back, Helena was watching her, a small smile playing on her lips, as though pleased with a job well done.

“Okay, let’s start. Stand over there—you can’t touch anything.” Silvia crossed her hands behind her back so she would not be tempted. Helena saw it and nodded approvingly.

Helena guided the hanging carcass that had been Nancy toward the workstation and began her explanation. Her tone was professional but patient. “First, we remove the premium cuts: Tits and Cunt. Then the hands, shoulders, and so on. We work our way down the body. But since it’s hanging upside down, it’s actually working upward. Before we get to the shanks, we’ll split it in half and move it to the table for further processing.”

Helena pulled the carcass closer and drew her knife from a sheath at her hip. She took hold of the right boob and set the knife, then started to slice. Fast but deliberate, in a flowing motion. Cutting under the flesh with a steady hand, she switched angles a few times. After a few seconds, she held a Tit in her hand and set it down on the table.

Silvia stared at the carcass and the Tit on the table. This was a bit surreal. She knew her friend’s body, and she knew Tits from the supermarket, but seeing them transformed... It felt intimate. Transforming a woman into Girl meat. Seeing it, witnessing it. It was a revelation.

While she still examined the Tit, the second Tit was placed next to it.

“This is a more complicated cut,” Helena said, wiping her hands clean of the blood as she moved between the legs of the carcass. Now Silvia understood why a spreader bar had been used. Not only to open her up to give her a good last orgasm, but also to gain better access for cutting its Cunt out.

Helena used multiple angles and cuts, and after maybe a minute, she pulled back her bloody hands, holding a Cunt. That was even more surreal. Silvia moved a bit closer, drawn by what she saw. She clenched her hands together behind her back, resisting the overwhelming urge to touch.

She saw Helena smile in satisfaction at her restraint. The Cunt was fascinating. Seeing a Cunt so close and knowing where it had been, what it had been used for. They had never eaten Cunt, it was just too expensive, but she had always wanted to know what made it so special. Why eat it? But it was considered a delicacy.

Silvia looked at the carcass. Except for the holes in the chest, you wouldn’t even know if it had been male or female. Everything that had made this a woman was lying on the table. Ready for packaging and cooking.

The Cunt fascinated her the most. Silvia’s brain questioned how it was cut and why this way. Looking closer at the carcass to see what had been cut, she wanted desperately to feel between her own legs to understand the cut.

As Helena continued her work, Silvia couldn’t hold back her questions anymore. Why would you take this part before that? What’s the reason for discarding that? What’s the big container for—the one where all the smaller pieces are going?

Helena answered each question patiently, explaining the intricacies of the butchering process. She described the order of cuts to maximise yield, the separation of edible from inedible parts, and how nothing truly went to waste.

“Ever wondered what goes into Girl sausage?" Helena asked with a wry smile, pointing to the large container. Silvia’s stomach twisted as realisation dawned. That might be the end of her liking Girl sausage. She had seen what went into that container. Ovaries, among other things.

It took an hour until every usable piece of the carcass was neatly wrapped in plastic, stacked with the other Girl meat from the other three women. Helena had worked slowly and methodically, not rushing anything. Giving her full attention to the carcass. Nancy hadn’t been just a number.

“Okay, done. Your friend is butchered and ready to be sold. Her family didn’t claim any of her cuts. Do you want any?”

“Yes, please,” Silvia said immediately, surprising herself. Nancy had been slaughtered to become Girl meat. Her father was right. The person was gone, but Silvia felt that her contribution should still be valued. Her Girl meat should be valued. And Silvia was the only one who would truly know her value. She breathed through it. “Ass and shank, if that’s possible.”

Helena nodded, packing the cuts into a cold pack. “Do you already have a job?”

“I’m just finishing university prep school,” Silvia replied, her curiosity piqued. “Why?”

“Well...it’s not as academic as university, but I have an opening for an apprenticeship,” Helena said, handing over the cold pack. “My old apprentice got her Letter two weeks ago. A shame she was shortly off sitting her exams. But you are certainly cut out for the job.”

Silvia stared at her. She felt like a curtain had been opened and she could see. Everything suddenly fell into place. She had helped Nancy find a peaceful end and guided her through it. She could see a path forward for herself.

Helena smiled faintly, pushing the cold pack into her hands. “Think about it.”

The whole way back, Silvia was on autopilot, her hands steady on the wheel while her mind churned. Memories overlapped with thoughts, images replaying in vivid detail. Nancy at the beach, laughing. Nancy hanging upside down, nervous but accepting. Nancy cumming while her blood sprayed into the container. Nancy’s lifeless head. The nameless carcass. The neatly packaged pieces of Girl meat.

Women would be selected; women would be slaughtered; Girl meat would be eaten. That was a fact of life. But she had seen something else, something different. It didn’t have to be cold and impersonal. It could be humane. Individualised. Respectful. Personal. If there had to be butchers, then some of them should care.

By the time she reached home, her decision had solidified in her mind.

With quiet determination, Silvia prepared the cuts, treating each piece with reverence. She seasoned the shank and roasted the Ass cut to perfection, taking her time to honour her friend’s final gift.

It felt like the end of a long journey—the point where she finally accepted reality as it was. You could cry about it, or you could honour what was given.

She still wasn’t sure if she had eaten her mother’s meat, but with Nancy, she wanted no doubt. She would eat, and she would honour her.

Women had to die and would be eaten. There was nothing that could be changed. It could be her next. If she had to be slaughtered, at least she wanted her Girl meat to matter.

When her father came home, she sat him down at the table without many words. He raised an eyebrow at the carefully set plates and the red wine in the glasses but said nothing as she served him. He had Ass; she had shank.

“Dad,” Silvia said, her voice steady and clear. “I’m going to become a Girl Butcher.”

The Farm - Chapter 2 – Stabling

They were left alone. Standing, not able to sit or lie down as their leads did not allow it. They leaned and moved around as much as their leads permitted them, which wasn’t much.

George had stopped thrashing around a while ago. He had been kicking the door and pulling at his bridle, making him scream through his gag in frustration and pain. Now there was only frustrated silence from his stall.

“I need to pee,” Maria mumbled through her bit.

Andrea hadn’t thought of that, and now that she had, she could feel that she had to really go soon. Where was she to do that, and how? Her hands were bound, and there was no toilet.

“Please, please, I need to pee.” Maria pleaded again as loud as she could with the bit in her mouth.

“Ponies have no words. They will punish you.” Said Julia from her stall.

“But I need to pee!”

“Your stall will be cleaned every day, and you will be washed every day. You are a pony now.” Julia said as if that was the most normal thing to say.

Horror filled everyone’s mind as they started to fully realise the full extent of their situation.

Maria sobbed loudly for a bit longer, and then everyone could hear her pee splashing into the straw underneath her, followed by soft, embarrassed sobs.

Andrea lost all hope now. She was in a stable tied to a wall, wearing a bridle, her arms tied hard against her back and there was no one to rescue her, nowhere to go.

New tears ran down her face as she felt she needed to go, too, and knew that there was only one way to do that. She fought it as long as she possibly could but then finally gave in, squatting down as much as her lead allowed her to and letting go. A scream of frustration and anguish escaped her as her manure dirtied her stall, sealing her fate.

Yesterday, she had been partying with some guys; today, she was a pony and would be for the rest of her life.

She hadn’t known her father was a stallion. Her parents led a normal life, mostly. But now she understood why her mother commanded him around as she did.

She also finally understood the amount of horse paraphernalia that littered the whole house. She wondered if her siblings knew of this. Knew what had become of her.

Standing around and having nothing to do and nothing to entertain her started to grind on her as much as it did on George.

George had not seen this coming. They must be out of their minds. He was the first son of a Lord. He had always been the first Son of a Lord, demanding respect and people to grovel before him.

His balls still hurt like hell where that bitch had tasered him. His knees were still weak, and his body was shaking with rage and frustration. He had kicked, thrashed and tried any way he could to get out of this fucking gag, bridle and stall, but he only exhausted himself.

She had threatened to castrate him; he knew that some slaves, male as well as female, got castrated so they could be used for pure pleasure purposes. Slavery was a fact of life, always had been. He had grown up with slaves, doing whatever he wanted to them. He was high-born, not some shit from one of the slums. This was not fair.

How could his parents have done that? He didn’t even know which of the many women he had taken was the one that claimed him as the father of her bastard. He could understand to be made to marry that woman, but this? Being cast out and made to be a pony, a stupid plaything for someone else’s enjoyment, was beyond his understanding.

Yes, he had maybe pushed his luck a bit too much lately. But this? His father had told him early on that their family contained ponies and riders. He had always envisioned himself owning a pony at some stage. A long-haired beauty like the one in the stall next to him, elegant and proud, but now he was himself nothing but a plaything for some rich person to claim. The penis-shaped gag that he had to endure and that limited his breathing made him realise something else. He prayed to the gods that at least a woman would choose to own him.

Maria was embarrassed. Her pee had dried on her leg, and she felt dirty. At least she knew why she was here. Her family had fallen on hard times with her mother’s death years ago, and the only way for her to not sell herself into slavery was to become the pony of a rich person.

Her father had been able to put her in the best stable, which had a long and good tradition. Ponies from here found good owners, and hat would enable her to help her father and her younger sister.

But now that she was standing here naked and left alone with her thoughts; she could only cry over her fate and pray for a better one. At least she had been able to get this far.

Slavery would have been worse. She knew of others who had no other choices. They had to sell themselves, or the Bank had sold them to offices, factories, fighting rings or brothels depending on their skills, strength and beauty. They were treated with not much care; slaves were cheap Labor, replaceable and of no consequence one way or another. Yes, one could buy one’s freedom again, and it happened often enough to give everyone hope. Still, it was not a very common occurrence. Once a slave, you were property. At least as a pony, you had status. After her branding and the training, she would be equal to her rider and owner.

She was beautiful enough; she had let her hair grow for as long as possible, and her father had put enough money aside for creams to make her skin soft and desirable.

She just prayed that she would find a good owner and would be able to save her little sister from any of this.

Julia was nervous and excited. She had been trained from an early age. Her mother was a mare, and her father a Stallion—one of the rare marriages that existed. Both her parents had owners who demanded their services but looked after them as they should be. They even allowed them to marry and sire her.

She had been born in a stable and grew up seeing her parents in one as well as in their small apartment. She had seen and knew the life that awaited her and accepted the role she was to play. She knew no other life.

She was looking forward to being made beautiful, made to learn proper dressage, being presented as a prized mare, and maybe bred to have beautiful foals. She had seen famous ponies on TV and secretly hoped she could become one of them.

She had been waiting for her time and had been excited when her parents finally prepared her this morning, putting her into her harness and bridle. New and hers, snow-white and never used. Finally, it was her time.

She had seen the other filly fighting like mad and could not understand why. Maria, the one next to her, was crying the whole time, whatever for? As a pony, you didn’t have to think, you didn’t have to care, and you didn’t have to plan. You were provided with care, love and food. There were so many people who had to fight each day to stay alive. A pony didn’t need to do that. The owner would take care of it.

She was looking forward to being trained properly. Lose herself into it and just be what she was born to be.

“So, have you all calmed down a bit?”

Mindy, the older one of the two female riders who had greeted them, entered the stable.

“The first days are the hardest. You will settle in all right. We will take care of you. But first. Some rules. Can you all hear me? If so, stomp with a hoof.”

Julia stomped down with her foot...hoof and then Maria. Andrea stomped more subduedly, and George didn’t stomp at all.

“Oh, I see. Let’s fix that attitude problem first.”

Mindy opened the door to George’s stall, and he focused on her with rage, trying to kick out at her.

She stepped well out of reach and just shook her head. “Well, you have three strikes before I take your balls. That’s one. Don’t think a minute I won’t. I took balls from others before, and I enjoy it. Trust me because I will make you eat them after.”

She took a whip from the wall and started hitting him hard on whatever surface she could reach. His back, his front, his arms, his butt and once even his dick, which made him howl out loudly through his gag. He was breathing hard, fighting to get air into his lung with the penis gag deep in his throat.

“You had enough? Stomp twice.” And he did as tears ran down his face.

She smacked him one more time hard and then put the whip back. She ticked one of the three boxes on his board. Only two boxes remained, and it was enough to finally scare him.

“Now to you fillies. You also have three strikes. After that, we will sell you off to some brothel or a circus. Short lifespan for both of them. Your ownership has been transferred from your parents to the Farm; we have all the rights. Understood? One stomp. “

They all stomped. “Good. Now, all of you. The rules. Ponies have no words. I catch any of you saying something, and you will be punished mercilessly. I know you already talked, so don’t think for a second, we don’t know what’s happening in here. You are in training, and we keep a very close watch on you. But as of now you are silent. You can stomp, you can neigh, but you better not use words.”

She opened Andrea’s stall. “Have you calmed down enough for me to put a normal bridle on you, or do you want to spend the rest of the day and night with the gag? Just so you know, I have a bigger one that I’m happy to push down your throat. So?”

Andrea could do nothing but nod. “Good filly.” Mindy came slowly closer and petted her. It was hard for Andrea to suppress her desire to kick her hard.

She had heard what had happened to the guy on the other end. She could still hear him breathing hard through his gag. She didn’t want to endure that.

The rider caressed her head, and it made her skin crawl. It was hard to fight down her anger.

Mindy took her bridle off and her gag out. Andrea took a big breath and then another one. Again, she was caressed and told she was a good filly. She hated it, but there was nothing to be done. Then, the rider put a hand in front of her with some chocolate.

The humiliation of the act was almost too much for her. “Take it.” The rider said, and Andrea tightened her stomach muscles to suppress more tears. She opened her mouth and ate the chocolate from the rider’s hand. Admitting defeat.

While she chewed on it, savouring the sweet taste, the rider put a new bridle on her with a normal bit and fastened it. “Good filly. Everything will be all right.” While patting her arse.

She reattached her lead to the wall, took a pitchfork and removed wordlessly her manure from under her.

“OK, I will get you measured for your harness and proper hooves. You will get an everyday one and a nice one when you are chosen to be branded or are on the auction block.”

She unhooked the lead and slightly pulled to guide Andrea out of the stall and into another larger one down the row of stalls. Big horseheads watched her, and she felt even more lost.

She attached Andrea again to a ring and then went and got the other two fillies and, finally, the colt. She used her crop to make sure he didn’t fight his rein too much.

Except for Julia, the other two fillies let their heads hang, still struggling to accept their new reality.

“Mindy? Where are you?” called out a male voice. “Back here with the new herd.”

Mindy turned to Julia. “The vet is just coming now.” This made the other two fillies pay attention and nervous again.

“The vet will give you the required immunisations and will also insert a spiral so, so you don’t bleed anymore and are infertile until it’s taken out by your owner if he wants to breed you.”

There were some sobs from Maria but nothing more.

She took Julia by her bridle and manoeuvred her to a metal device.

It was a padded bench with two large arms going backward. Leather bands were attached to the arms and on the padded base.

“Julia, you've probably seen that and know how to get on it. Show the others.”

Mindy pulled Julia by the bridle forward. Julia placed her stomach on the padded bench; Mindy pulled the leather strap around her and fastened them. Strapping her in securely before she took each leg and attached the ankles to the end of the metal arms with the leather straps. Julia was now strapped in and spread wide.

Mindy pulled a lever, and the contraption spun slowly forward, angling Julia’s arse into the air.

“Good filly.” Mindy smacked Julia’s arse affectionately.

A Man wearing the green uniform of a vet entered the area, followed by a young female slave, her collar giving the fact away, carrying his bag. He looked around at the herd.

“They look healthy, let’s see.” He pulled a stool from somewhere and sat down. Looking at Julia’s vulva and arsehole that the contraption presented to him. He made a signal, and Mindy pulled another lever and Julia was spread wider, making her flinch.

“That’s better. Let’s see. Good colouring. cleanly lasered at the sides and clean shaven above. Good. Tight vulva, a virgin, well, that can’t be helped. This will hurt. Slave, small speculum.”

The slave handed him a speculum, and he put some lube on it and then on her vulva and started to push it into her. Her wincing became groans and then screams as it moved deeper into her and when he began to open it wide. During the whole time, he didn’t stop speaking.

“This is the problem with pony-only marriages. Sure, their foals grow up in the stables and are used to it, but then we end up with shit like this. How could her sire and dam have neglected to break her in properly? A beauty like her should be fucked the first time by some big strong stallion. Not like that. What a shame. Well, she is open now.”

Julia’s screams died down to a constant whimper as he inspected her insides. Mindy caressed her head. “It is over soon, and then we get you fucked properly in a few days. I promise. Oh, my little filly. Just scream. It’s fine.”

The other fillies were nervous looking at what was happening, and Julia’s screams made them skittish. While the same scream had a different effect on the colt, his dick became stiff.

“Well that looks all good inside of her. Let’s put the spiral in.” He reached out, and his slave nurse gave him a yellow plastic part that he then put into her, screwing it into her cervix. A high pierced scream and Julia was reduced to panting.

“Blame your sire and dam. They should have trained you at least on a dildo belt; if not, have you properly fucked. Hope you remember that with your own foals. Ok. The arsehole looks OK. But it's not used either. No surprise there. Tight as all fuck.” He put more lube on her arsehole and pushed a finger in, making her wince again.

“Dildo belt, we start with a 2 and a 1. Also the fuck machine, all holes. I don’t think she had a cock down her throat, either. Ok, blood work and injections.”

The nurse slave came forward and gave the vet a large syringe and took another smaller one drawing blood from her bound arms while the vet rammed the syringe into her arse cheek and depressed the plunger.

He smacked her arse. “Next one.”

Mindy pulled the contraption back and Julia’s legs together and opened the Leather straps.

When she was pulled up, she was shaking on her legs. Mindy didn’t care; she just put her lead on the ring and took Andrea off while Julia leaned against the wall. Her face was wet with tears. Somehow, that made Andrea feel better, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t like her attitude, as if she was any better, just like everyone she ever met before.

Julia had thought she was already a good pony. How was she not prepared for this? How had her parents missed that? She thought she only needed to learn trivial things, but now she felt she was the worst filly in the herd.

Andrea was strapped in and spread in no time. She wasn’t sure how much more humiliation she could take before she lost her mind completely. It helped her think of this as a standard visit to the gyn.

“Colouring OK. Tightness OK. Bush OK. But maybe laser her sides. She has been used often and well. Speculum.” The cold steel made her wince as it was shoved in without much care. “That looks all good in there too.” She felt the spiral being drilled into her cervix and screamed out. The speculum was pulled out, and two fingers pushed into her arsehole. “That looks used too. Good. Arsehole is a solid 3. This one is well-used and would probably need less training, too. What’s her name? I might put a bit in if she gets to auction, which is unlikely.” Mindy told him her name, and she wondered how her ‘sluttiness’ her mother mentioned was now, all of a sudden, a good thing, making her desirable. Injections and blood were just an afterthought.

She stood beside Julia in no time, and it was Maria’s turn to be strapped into the contraption.

“Colour’s really nice. She needs a full trim; this is just ugly. Where is that one from? The slums? Well, that makes sense, but she is good material. Nice vulva lips. She had been used, but not as often as she should be, but that’s ok.”

She knew what was required and had trained herself with cucumbers before they had to eat them to quell their hunger. Stretching herself out and opening herself up. Her father had always left the small room they had, and she could hear him sob outside as she panted and winced to force herself open. They had made her sister watch, so she knew that life was hard and there was pain if you wanted a better one.

“Looks OK in there. Probably dildo trained by the look of the tissue. OK, spiral in. Good filly.” She hadn’t screamed. Only a loud sob escaped her as she bit down on her bit. “Arsehole is used, but not much. Maybe we put a 3 plug in there and see what’s happening.”

Maria was put back next to the other fillies, and for the first time today, she felt a bit proud that she had achieved something. She was better suited for pleasure than the beauty Julia. The hard work had paid off. Maybe finding a proper owner was an achievable dream.

“Now that colt is a bit rebellious,” Mindy warned. “He already has one strike.”

“Already? On the first day? Well, well, well. If he keeps that up, he ends up on the auction block a gelding. Shame. Good sheath. Ok, big fellow. You either get on there nice and easy or I taser you into submission. You choose. Mindy, get him, slave, the Taser.”

George seemed to have finally understood that he was in no position to do anything. He gave in and let himself be let to the contraption and strapped in.

“Good sheath, need to laser the hair on the sack. On the other hand, let’s wait. If we have to take them off anyway, what’s the point? Slave, fetch me a sperm sample.”

George now knew for a fact that nothing of this was a jest. He could be gelded, and nobody would ever care. It made him, for the first time, think of the consequences of his doings, and it horrified him. Maybe this was the Gods way of taking revenge. Please, at least let it be a woman.

The slave took a tube from the case and then crawled underneath the construction, and started to suck on his cock.

“I really would like to keep his balls. They are nice. Ok. Let’s do the following. We put a ball stretcher on them. They need to hang lower. That would look better for a hunk like him, and then we put him into the fuck Machine, both holes and make him pull the heavy plough. See if that helps to tame him. Arsehole isn’t used at all, so that needs a number 1, and the fucking machine will take care of the rest. How are we doing there? “ He asked his Slave.

“Almost there, Master Vet” she answered.

“You can drink the rest; I just need a small sample. Get ready; here it comes.” And he patted her on the head while his other finger slipped again into the colt’s arsehole triggering him.

The fillies watched as the big colt came and grunted into his gag. The slave underneath put some of his spilling seed into the test tube and sucked and licked the rest off him.

Mindy petted the fillies. “You want to come too. I know. The big bad colt was allowed, but you were not. Don’t worry before we put the lights out, we will make you cum. But. You have to behave, Coming or whipping these are the good night options for you from now on. Are you looking forward to who gets what? I do!” Mindy swooned.

George panted as much as his gag allowed it. He had never cum like that before. Before he could savour it more, he felt the injection and the prick of his blood.

“That’s it. Done. I will see you at branding. Slave, let’s go.”

The vet left, and the slave followed with the case.

“OK, let’s get you measured and then some feed and water.”

That evening, as Silvia sat at the dining table with her dad, she hesitated before speaking. “How did you feel… when Mum got her Letter?”

Her father paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “It wasn’t easy. Not at all. She was almost out of the Lottery, and you were still so small...”

Silvia reached out with her hands, and he held them tightly.

“She decided to go on the last possible day,” he continued. “She spent time with you, settled her affairs, got me help—did everything she could think of. She buried herself in work, but I could tell she was barely holding on. She was so angry.”

“Angry?” Silvia tilted her head, surprised. She’d always imagined sadness, not anger.

“Oh yes. Angry, really angry. Rage even. She let it rip when you were at school—the house practically shook. She was furious at being selected so late, after she was so close to being out of the Lottery. Furious about leaving you with just me.”

A faint smile crossed his lips. “Her opinions on my parenting skills were… rather low.”

Silvia smirked. “I have no complaints. You were there when I needed you, and you supported and trusted me. That’s all I needed.”

A tear slid down his cheek, and he wiped it away quickly, trying to sound steady. “Thanks, darling. I appreciate that.”

She mimicked his tone with mock seriousness. “You. Are. Welcome.”

They both laughed, the moment easing the tension.

“I only remember her walking into the Processing Centre,” Silvia said softly, her voice dropping. She had never talked to him about it before. “Mom didn’t even look back.”

“She couldn’t,” her father said. “She told me she needed her anger to see her to the end of the line. If she looked back, she would have fallen apart.”

Silvia nodded. Finally, she understood. She had grown out of blaming herself years ago, but still... she felt she could breathe a little easier now.

“I’m skipping school the next two days,” she said abruptly, popping a potato into her mouth.

“Okay… do I want to know why?” Her father continued eating, trusting her decisions but curious about her reasoning. The final tests were already done, so there wasn’t much reason to go anymore.

She paused. Nancy had said not to tell, so people wouldn’t say that little sentence, but her dad didn’t count. She needed him to understand. “Nancy got her Letter. She wants to spend her last day at the beach.” She trusted him to keep quiet.

“That’s harsh,” he said gently. “I’m so sorry, darling. Are you going to be okay? I’m here for you.”

“Yes. I think so. We talked a lot today. She’s doing okay, but her dads aren’t doing so well.”

Her father nodded knowingly. “I can understand that. I’ll take some bottles over there after she is gone. Just drink, no talking. They need to lose themselves for a bit, cry, shout, talk to someone who has it behind him. It helped me.”

“That’s good. Her Dad was in bad shape when I saw him. Her Father hadn’t been home yet.”

Silvia’s father set down his fork, looking at her seriously. “Promise me you’ll talk to me about it if you need to. This is the second person you’re losing to the Lottery.” He was worried. She could tell.

She nodded. “I will,” she promised. “But now I understand it better. I’m in it myself. I could get a Letter too. But…” She shrugged. “I’m not afraid of it. I think most girls aren’t that much anymore. We grew up with this—we grew up with Girl meat on the table. The Lottery is just a fact of growing up, a scary one, but a fact.”

Her father gave her a loving look. “You’re so much like your mother. She was practical, too. She knew she’d be slaughtered, and there was nothing she could do about it. She was just angry about it.”

They continued eating, but she knew something was off by the looks he gave her.

“What?” she asked, annoyed. “And don’t give me that ‘nothing’ bullshit you use when you are sick and don’t want to go to the doctor.”

He put down his cutlery. That meant it must be something more serious. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but when you started to become a woman, I started to look at alternatives to the Processing Centres.”

She blinked; it took her a moment to get it.

“For me? If my Letter came?” she stated flatly.

“Yes. A better option. Something painless, fast, no waiting lines, no industrial setup.”

“And?” Now she was curious. An alternative to a Centre? She hadn’t known there were alternatives.

“Clapton Private Processing. I have the contact details.”

Silvia looked at him questioningly. Why would that matter right now?

“For Nancy. To make it easier. I’ll forward you the details. Say that you found it while looking for alternatives. Leave me out of it. Her dads will need me to help them cope later.”

That made sense. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks for looking after me like that. I seriously appreciate it.”

Private Processing? She would look into it tonight, but private sounded good. She understood why Nancy was afraid of the Processing Centre. Public, industrial, anonymous, becoming just a piece of Girl meat even before you are slaughtered.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about her mother—how she’d grown up, what she liked, what she didn’t. Silvia had heard most of the stories before, but it felt good to hear them again. It also comforted her father to tell them.

Nancy turned up an hour late. But Silvia knew she would; she would have been surprised if she had been on time.

“Get in and shut... up! I don’t want to talk about any of that. Let’s go and look at cute boys’ butts.” And Nancy floored the car.

“Ah... maybe I should drive!” Silvia exclaimed, holding on to whatever she could.

Nancy looked at her, slowed down, and parked. “Sorry. Yes. You are right.”

They changed seats, and Silvia drove them towards the beach. “I have to say one thing to you about that.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “If it is that damned sentence, you don’t have to worry about getting your Letter. You will go down as a homicide. Self-defence.”

“You are angry today,” Silvia stated, astounded and remembering her father’s words from last night.

“How did you figure that out?” she snapped at her. “Sorry, I’m all over the shop today.”

“Was Peter not good?” Silvia asked. That would make sense; she might be frustrated.

“What? Oh no, he was actually really good. You should give him a try. He knows what he is doing. Nice, muscly ass. You should have seen my Father looking at it when he left. Dad was furious.” She laughed a bit. “No, it’s my dad's. Dinner last night was a pity party. A real downer. Nobody talked. As if I’m already on some shelf in a supermarket.” Nancy muttered, frustrated.

“I will send my Dad over after you are gone. He knows how to kick them out of it.”

Nancy deflated. “That would be good. Please ask him to do that. Tell him it was what I wanted. That will work. Thanks.” She leaned back in the seat and looked much more relaxed.

“So?” A few kilometres later, Nancy asked.

“So what?” Silvia asked, confused.

“You wanted to say something.”

“Oh shit, right. Listen, I had a look at my research yesterday evening because I remembered something. I found Clapton Private Processing.”

“Good for you?” Nancy said, not understanding.

“It’s a private Processing Centre. Accredited and licensed Girl butchers.” The look Nancy gave her made her hurry up. She really didn’t want to die in a car wreck. “They do private slaughters. No lines. No Processing Centre. No pain. You have your own personal female butcher. Nobody hurries you through.”

Nancy’s mouth opened, and she tried to speak multiple times. But each time, she stopped. Finally, she said:

“Will you go there if your Letter comes?” She said while looking out her side of the window.

“Yes. Absolutely.” Silvia had looked into it and liked it much better than some industrial Centre.

“OK. Call them. See what they say. I’m not saying yes... and I would rather not talk about it anymore, but... I probably have to. Oh, this sucks!” She screamed out, causing Silvia to swerve.

“Nancy! Fuck!” Silvia shouted, bringing the car back under control.

“Ah, fuck you too. Organising my own slaughter. Fuck this!”

“I’ll do it,” Silvia promised firmly.

Nancy just nodded and sat still for a while. “As soon as possible. Tomorrow.”

“OK.”

Nancy stared out of her side window for a while. At some point, she breathed in deeply and said, “I bet I can score more asses than you!”

“You have the bigger boobs. That’s not a fair contest.” And they were back to normal.

They spent an amazing morning at the beach. Whistling after boys and even some girls. Silvia was interested in both; Nancy was not. Well... there were more girls than boys anyway, and Silvia had adapted to the reality. A lot of girls hadn’t and were searching desperately for a male partner, making a lot of poor choices.

When Nancy found that cute boy and disappeared with him into the dunes, Silvia couldn’t help but smile. So Nancy. Good for her for grabbing every moment she could. Silvia hoped that if her Letter ever arrived, she would be able to do the same.

Silvia waited until she saw them disappear behind the dunes before she fished for her phone in her bag. No need to freak her out more than needed.

“Clapton Private Processing. How can I help you today?” A young female voice answered.

“Hi... ah... my friend got her Letter and would like to know more about you, and so would I. My Father found you... just in case I get my own Letter.”

“That’s thoughtful of him. We provide private slaughters. Meaning, we specialise in easy, painless, and humane processing. We are not a plant and take only a few bookings. We produce artisan handcrafted Girl meat.”

“Oh! Ok... are there any openings for tomorrow?”

“Let me check... I can offer you one at 11 o’clock. But it’s for painless and fast only—no customisation.”

“Customisation?” Silvia asked curiously.

“Yes, some choose different methods. Hanging, for example, is requested sometimes,” the woman said. “But most prefer painless and fast.”

“Hanging?” Silvia echoed, a little too astounded. She cringed at her own curiosity.

The woman didn’t seem fazed. “It’s one of the options. Some people request that. Others customise because they fear blood, or simply because they want to choose the method. We offer this because we believe that everyone should be able to make their own decisions.” She paused. “I can send her a full list of customisation options if you’d like.”

“Yes, please. Um... about that appointment—when is the next one after tomorrow?”

The woman gave her some times and dates. “Your friend knows you are doing this?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, she does. She just doesn’t want to...” Silvia paused, trying to find the right words, and then just decided on the truth. “She doesn’t want to organise her own slaughter.”

“I understand. You are a good friend. Can I have her and your social ID for verification, please?” Silvia gave her the numbers. “OK. Yes, I can see that Nancy has been registered for slaughter. You are not. So I will send you our information material.”

“Thanks so much. I will talk to her and call you back. Is that OK? Cool. Thank you.”

In the time that Nancy took exploring her sexuality in the dunes, Silvia browsed the information material. It was pretty well presented and left almost no questions unanswered.

But what fascinated her the most were the customisation options. After her initial shock at the selections, she thought about this more. Why would someone choose this? She returned again to the illustration of a woman being gutted, or the other one being dismembered while still alive.

A shudder ran down her spine as she put herself in that picture. How would it feel to see your own boobs cut off and become Tits? Or to see your own intestines being removed? Experience how it was to be taken apart and become Girl meat. The more she thought about it, the more she felt confused. Would she choose that...? Seriously! What was wrong with her?

Nancy plonked down next to her, startling her. She put her phone upside down so Nancy wouldn’t see what she had been fascinated with.

“Did I disturb you with something?” Nancy asked facetiously, thinking Silvia had scrolled porn.

“No. Tomorrow at 11?”

“Ok. You pick me up.”

“It’s quick and painless. They offer customisations, but not on that day. They sent stuff to your email. You should look at it.”

Nancy shook her head, looking out towards the sea. “I don’t want to. I trust you. I need a shower... I have sand in my pussy. That seriously is unpleasant.”

Nancy went for the showers, and Silvia booked Nancy into a private slaughter.

“You are aware that this means her family loses 50% of her meat compensation?” She had read that, but she was pretty sure Nancy’s dads didn’t give a shit about that.

“That’s ok.”

“Good. Now... with that package, the family is entitled to select a number of fresh complimentary cuts.”

“Of her?” Did she just hear that right?

“Certainly. We ensure she is butchered to the highest quality, by hand, not by machine. We provide artisan Girl meat.”

That threw her. They offered fresh cuts of her. Who would want that? She had vomited because she had thought she had eaten some of her mother.

“She or her family can decide that on the day.” Silvia heard the receptionist’s fingers clatter against her keyboard. “OK... she is all booked in. There is a bit of a list to look at for preparation. I assume I should send it to you? Ok. Done. We will see Nancy tomorrow at 11. Please be on time. Anything else I can help you with?”

She finished the call. Hanging up felt like a door had slammed shut. She had scheduled her friend to be slaughtered. Silvia felt torn. Sad that Nancy was going to be slaughtered, glad that she had found a better way for her. It was hard.

When Nancy returned, she just said, “Done,” and Nancy nodded.

They spent the rest of the day having fun. Forgetting everything. Nancy dared her to kiss a hot guy, and she just went and did it. He was just not into her, and his wife was not impressed either.

Nancy dared her to go up to a random older woman and ask her for a kiss.

Silvia was too shy for it. “Shut... up! And do it!” And, as always, it worked, and she did. Silvia got her kiss and a bit more. A lot more.

She ended up having to have a shower and get the sand out, too. THAT was seriously unpleasant.

In the evening, instead of dropping Silvia off, Nancy drove to her own house.

“Uh... wrong house, dummy?” commented Silvia.

“No,” Nancy said, and handed her the car keys. “Yours. I don’t need it anymore. When will you pick me up?”

Silvia was perplexed for a second, but she didn’t argue. She would just return the car later tomorrow to her dads.

Silvia had read the list, thought about timing, the drive, and added the Nancy factor. “09:30 sharp.” She would arrive earlier, and they wouldn’t need to leave before 10. Clapton wasn’t that far.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

“Good luck with your dads.”

“Thanks.” She paused. “I wish I could stay at your place, but that’s not fair to them. I had my day. They need some time with me too.” Then she got out, and Silvia drove home.

Her dad was waiting for her, sitting on the couch. “Want to talk about it?” her dad just asked.

She shook her head and sat down. After some time, she said, “I'll pick her up tomorrow morning. She lent me her car. She has an appointment at 11.”

“OK. I will go to her dad's then.” He put a hand on her arm. “Will you be ok?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” They sat in silence for a while. She liked that. She was alone with her thoughts, but she didn’t feel alone.

The whole customisation thing and how it had fascinated her gnawed at her. She wished she had someone to talk to about this, but she couldn’t. Not to her father anyway. But she could talk about the other thing that gnawed at her. Fresh cuts.

“Dad?” she asked to get his attention. “The private slaughter... You would get fresh cuts of me. Would you take them?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“Why?” she asked. She wanted to know. She tried to imagine cuts of her mother on the table. Then she imagined her own ass on the table and him eating it, like he liked to, with spicy barbecue sauce. It just was too hard to get her head around that.

“Two reasons. It’s just meat. The person living in it is gone. Yes, it would be your meat, but you are not in it anymore.” He paused. “You liked the shank we had the other day, right? You may have met that woman on the street some days earlier. Does that change the taste? Does that change anything?” he asked.

She exhaled slowly. Yes, that was true; it was just meat that was left. Every piece of Girl meat they had eaten had been a person once. Like her mother, like Nancy, maybe like her.

“And the second?” she asked.

He exhaled. “I know it sounds strange, but... but it would give me something of you. Something that would let me feel connected to you for one last time.”

She couldn’t sleep well that night. What part of the body contains the person?

Silvia hadn’t had much sleep. The customisation pictures, the fresh cuts, and the question of where in the body a person lived had turned in her head like a washing machine on an endless cycle. She had to take a long shower to wake her fully up.

When she came down, her father had made breakfast for her.

“Light, but filling. Eat. You will need it.” And he squeezed her. “I love you, and you are doing an important service for your friend. She has to be slaughtered, and you are helping her get through it. I’m proud of you.”

She just nodded and ate. Silvia knew that, knew she had to die, and the only thing left was to help her do it. She knew she would grief, but she would do it later. She needed to stay focused for Nancy.

Her father supported her by just being there, not saying anything, just silently supportive. Silvia didn’t know what to say anyway, and what was there to say? She needed to hold it together for her friend, help her get to her death. That’s all that mattered right now.

Then it was time to go, and she made it on time to Nancy’s house. Well, reality time frame.

Nancy’s father looked like hell. A sleepless night for sure.

“Hi, Silvia. I wanted to thank you...” he began, but Silvia interrupted him.

“Sorry, Mr Halbart, we only have a few seconds alone. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

He looked at her with questions in his eyes, but closed the door so he stood alone outside with her.

“I don’t know how to say this, but I have to ask this... so I will just do it. Sorry.” This would be so hard. She took a deep breath. “You are entitled to fresh cuts...”

The look was all she needed. She nodded. “Do you want any of the things she will be wearing back?” His face went whiter than before; he shook his head vehemently.

“I need your account number for your State Meat Compensation, or what will be left of it. Sorry, it’s 50% less...”

“Take it. Donate it. I don’t want it.” His voice was a hollow abyss.

“I’m sorry, Mr Halbart,” Silvia said, and bit her lip.

For the first time, he seemed to breathe. He closed his eyes for a second. “No. I’m truly thankful you found that place. We had a look together. She will be better there than at one of these Processing Centres. Thanks, Silvia.” And Silvia could see how hard he struggled. “And keep the car. She told me. Please keep it. But I... we need your help... later...”

“Whatever you need, Mr Halbart.” Silvia would be there for them.

“I need you to come when we are away and clean out her room. I... I can’t...” He started to sob and then tried to force air into his lungs to keep himself steady. Silvia needed to move on. Nancy needed her now. Her dad would take care of him later.

“OK, Mr Halbart. I need to look after her now,” she said as evenly as she could.

He just nodded, and Silvia went inside. Nancy’s Dad was in the kitchen, not looking one bit better. She waved hello and went to Nancy’s room. She knocked and heard the shower running... did she know her friend that well, or what? She went inside.

“Are you still in the shower?” Silvia called.

“Shut... up! Ms On-Time. I will be... oh fuck... so late?” Nancy shouted back, dripping wet as she emerged.

“Chill. I already factored that in. You have 15 minutes extra.”

Nancy visibly relaxed, a little less frantic. 15 Nancy Minutes equalled about 30 real minutes. All good.

Still, Nancy was frazzled. She stood naked except for a towel twisted around her hair, toothbrush dangling from her mouth. Lost. Not knowing what to do next, what mattered, what didn’t.

Silvia could see how overwhelmed Nancy was. How hard it was for her to go on, knowing each step brought her closer to her death, knowing there was nothing that could be done, but accept that she would be slaughtered.

Silvia shook her head, trying to stay focused, focused on getting Nancy through it. There was only one option: breathe deeply and take charge. “I got you, I’m here for you.”

There was a faint smile on Nancy’s face.

Silvia took charge. “We don’t have to do the colon cleaning. Clapton has some fancy machines for that. So you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Silvia saw the tension in Nancy’s body ease a little. Good. Silvia was relieved, too. It would have been yuck.

“Now—have you shaved properly? Pits, legs? Show me. OK. Earrings out. Rings off. Good. What are you going to wear? OK. Hair? Makeup?”

Silvia helped her with her hair and makeup and got her into the clothes she had chosen for the drive.

When Nancy automatically grabbed her handbag, Silvia put a hand on it.

“No. You don’t need that. Or your mobile. Or keys.”

Nancy froze for a second, tension flashing through her body, then nodded stiffly.

“You DO need your Letter,” Silvia said gently. “Give it to me—I’ll carry it.”

She looked her friend up and down, with honest admiration in her voice. “You look stunning, Nancy. Really good.”

Nancy looked in the mirror. She was nervous and needed guidance. So Silvia provided it by taking her hand. “Just come with me. I will take care of you. Big goodbye or short?”

“Short.”

Silvia nodded. “OK, go with the flow,” and Nancy followed her without any questions. She knew what Nancy needed, and that wasn’t her dad’s emotional downward spiral.

“Mr and Mr Halbart,” she said as they entered the living room, her voice firmer than she had thought. “Sorry, but we are running really late. You need to say goodbye now.”

They said they loved her, and she said it back. One hard hug each, and they were out of the door and in Nancy’s car.

She had seen her own dad’s car parked down the street, out of sight of Nancy. Her dads would need it.

Silvia put the keys in and drove off. Drove her best friend to her slaughter.

This is an overview of all the DOLCETT short stories I wrote.
(chronological order from oldest to newest)

• Lady Constance Dinner Party - Dolcett in Downbush Abbey
• Dorffest (German) - Ein kleines Dorf hat sein jährliches Fest, diesmal mit Kultur!
• Village Festival - (English version of Dorffest) A small village holds its annual festival. This time with culture!
• Master Chef - The TV show that pushes boundaries.
  • Part 1
  • Part 2
• The Interview - A reporter interviews a killer
  • Part 1
  • Part 2.1
  • Part 2.2
  • Part 3
• Paula is meat - a Children's book
• Line up - A mother watching her daughter become meat
• The local - A mother and daughter go to the local butcher
• SOLD! - Her father sold her to someone who's only the best of her.
• Taboo - Jessica wants her dad, but she can't.
  • Part 1
  • Part 2
• Mertzger (German) - Eine Mutter will ihre Tochter verkaufen
• Butcher (English version of Metzger) - A mother wants to sell her daughter
• Twins - Twins in the country have to deal with their different fates.
• The out - Marion had had enough, she wanted out!
• Harem - Two girls in a harem (never finished..but still good)
• SoftShells - How does a Restaurant looks like from a VERY differnt POV
• Upgrade - Saskia gets an unexpected upgrade.
• Urgent Business - Making a deal never stops!
• Daily Grind - Being a butcher isn't easy

(One chapter each Monday morning CET)

Today was Muster day, and a new herd of ponies would arrive and needed to be trained. For Mindy, it was always a day full of challenges. She had mastered new herds for the last 20 years, and she would master this one. She wasn’t worried, but she had the feeling this herd would be different. This herd was a very mixed bag.

Typically, each new herd had only one “worry pony,” but Mindy suspected there’d be more this time around.

All ponies that came to the Farm for training were young, unmarried, almost-adults. But that was where the similarity usually ended. Still, Mindy could always divide them into three categories.

There were the ones who had acted out, protested, or generally caused trouble for their families, not understanding or caring about the consequences. These ponies would learn—that’s why they were sent here.

Others were uninitiated and didn’t know much, if anything, about the world of ponies and riders. Their parents or they themselves had decided that they would become a proper Farm pony. Farm trained and starting a new bloodline with the prestige that that included. These ponies needed to learn what it truly meant to be a Farm pony.

The last category were the generational ponies. These ones had parents who were either Farm riders or ponies themselves, and they sent their offspring here to be properly trained and conditioned.

It wasn’t at all common, but it was not unheard of for both parents to be either riders or ponies. Whatever the combination, they all knew about the world of the Farm and wanted to continue their bloodline and pass on their traits.

Sometimes a new pony fell into more than one category. Mindy would know for certain when they arrived, but looking at the preliminary paperwork the new herd would be not as straightforward as the last one. Mindy was more than a bit curious.

Regardless of why they were sent here, they would be leaving as obedient ponies. One way or another, that was what the Farm was for—a prestigious institution with a long tradition of training ponies and riders.

Most ponies didn’t fully understand what awaited them, and there would be many protests, screaming, and crying. Tears always rolled heavily on the first day, when they realized what lay before them. For all of them, their lives would change today. From today on they would be ponies. Even generational ponies were sometimes brought up wrong. Correcting these issues was precisely what the Farm was for.

Excited chatter filled the meeting room as seasoned riders gathered for a final preparation session before the new ponies arrived. Most of them were the same age as the new ponies; only a few were older, but all of them were committed. Everyone had earned their place here one way or another, primarily due to their bloodline, their hard work, or the money they or their families had given to the Farm. Most riders were generational riders, though there were always a few new ones in the mix.

Mindy didn’t like riders who tried to buy their way into the Farm, but she understood the need for funding. That didn’t mean she’d go easy on them. The Directorate knew she worked these riders way harder than the others. the Farm had a reputation to uphold, and as head trainer, Mindy made sure both ponies and riders upheld its traditions and values.

Each rider had been vetted and selected carefully. None were here for a quick thrill or out of pure curiosity. Those people had already been weeded out early on. These riders were here because they had proven they were fully committed to this lifestyle. All of them were here either to assist in training or to find a pony they would commit to for the rest of their lives.

A mixed group of men and women, determined to help break the new herd in—reforming, taming, and training them until they were true mares and stallions, ready to be owned and branded.

Mindy had repeated again the first steps to the riders, making sure they knew what to expect and how to act. They would need to help the ponies into their new roles, to strip them not only of their clothes but of their humanity and identity. Put them back to an absolute basic. Then over the next months, they would build them up again as obedient ponies.

A soft beep alarmed Mindy that the first car was about to arrive and she shooed the riders outside to get them ready to welcome the new ponies.

The first to arrive was Andrea, a third generation that her stallion father had selected to continue the bloodline. Her Mother, a seasoned rider, would be dropping her off. Not much happened in the Farm that Mindy didn’t know.

“Why?” Was the first word Andrea uttered in disbelieving and pleading tone after her mother explained what would happen to her.

“Because you have failed university and don’t take responsibility for anything. But also because one of you had to be selected for breeding. Your father is a good stallion, giving me good children. You will make a good pony, and that’s why we selected you for training and breeding.”

“You can’t just send me off to be bred like an animal.”

“Don’t pretend you are some blushing virgin. You've been spreading your legs and sucking cocks for way too long. You choose to do that, so we select you for breeding. You have the slutty attitude, the long hair, and the good tits. You will make a good pony. As your parents, we have all the right to do what we think is right for you until you are married.”

“I don’t want to be bred. I don’t want to marry. I don’t want to be a pony.”

“It’s irrelevant what you want. We decided that this is the best outcome for you. Did you ever wonder what happened to Nicole? Your best friend? The one you have been carousing and fucking around with? She didn’t want to obey her parents’ will either. When have you last seen her?”

A visible chill ran through Andrea. She had wondered why, all of a sudden, she had disappeared.

“W-What happened to her?” fright echoed in her voice. She dreaded the answer.

“She was disowned by her parents and sold off as a slave. You know very well that parents have total control of their offspring until they are married, sold, or otherwise ownership is transferred. The law is the law.”

A cold shudder went down Andrea’s spine. She knew the law. The Lex Patronus that the hight society of British Empire had held on to for the last thousand years after the Roman Empire split up into its parts.

“Why me? Why not Jessy or Nick?” she pleaded again.

“Because they are successful. Nick will be a lawyer, and Jessy is aiming for Crown Prosecutor. You, on the other hand, are pretty useless for the family right now.”

The words impacted like punches. Leaving her stunned and helpless. Parents held live and death decisions over their offspring and Andrea had certainly soiled the family name.

“After you are married, you can do whatever you and your owner agree to. Until then, by law, you are our property, and we will decide what is best for you. We arrive shortly at the Farm, where you will be trained as a pony. Your father and I will see you again when you are getting branded by your new owner. We are looking forward to that, for you to continue our bloodline.”

“Branded?” Panic now replaced pleading.

“Yes, darling. Branded. When you are tame and trained, you will have a new owner, a husband or a wife if you are a good pony. He or she will brand you to mark you as their property. You will then belong to him or her. After that, it is between you and your owner to decide what rights you will have.”

Andrea’s mother tried to put an arm around her daughter, but she pushed her angrily away.

“Don’t be upset. Your father was branded by me, as your grandfather branded your grandma. We are a line of riders and ponies. Neither Nick nor Jill has the attitude to be a pony or a rider. I had wondered if our line had come to an end and if your father’s seed or my womb was tainted. But then you spectacularly failed and are quite the slut. So that will work out. Trust me. You will be fine. You will fight it, but there is no alternative. Your father initially had trouble with the training too, but he was determined to be a proper pony and for me to become his rider. Now he is more than happy, and I’m too.”

Andrea turned to the car window, away from her mother.

“When you are properly trained, either a Rider selects you because you are a good pony, or you are auctioned off. I hope for your sake and the pride of our bloodline that you will become a good pony and be selected. I don’t want to see you on the auction block. If you end up there, you will be sold to a stable or someone with a collection of ponies and not properly married. I do not want that for you. So, put an effort in. Understood?”

Tears started to roll down Andrea’s face. Tears of frustration, betrayal, and helplessness.

“There we are. Now. You can either struggle or give in. Whatever suits you, either way, you will become a good pony.”

“I hate you.” Andrea spit out.

“I know. Your father and I love you. We will see you at your branding ceremony.”

The door opened but Andrea didn’t move.

“I’m sorry, darling, but this will make it harder for you. Get out yourself, or they will take you. The first choice is less painful. Be a good pony and obey.”

“I’m not a pony!” She screamed at her mother.

“I know, darling, but you will be in time.”

Hands grabbed her, and she shouted and struggled, but they were stronger and pulled her out of the car.

She struggled as much as she could, screaming and ranting. Pleading and cursing. The only thing that happened was that her mother’s car drove slowly away, and strong arms held her.

“Andrea. We are happy to see that your breeding line will continue. Let’s get you ready for the stable.”

She wanted to shout more, but the woman who had just talked to her slapped her hard in the face. She had never been slapped before. And it stunned her for a moment.

“You have two choices. Obey or struggle. I don’t care. The result will be the same. We have been doing this for a century.”

She held up two leather bridles. One with a bar for a bit and one that had a penis-shaped gag instead of the bit.

“Fuck off. Let me…. “

She didn’t get further as one of the men holding her grabbed her head and held it while the woman took the gag and moved towards her.

Panic widened her eyes. The other man squeezed her cheeks to open her mouth and Andrea clamped down as much as she could.

“Oh, we have a very fiery filly here. She will be fun to train. I hope we can retain the fire in her.” Smiled the woman at her.

She was slapped again and tried to keep her mouth closed, but one of the men pinched her nose shut.

Reflexively she opened her mouth, and the woman forced the penis-shaped dildo into her mouth. It didn’t reach too far into her but filled her mouth and triggered her gag reflex. Nobody paid attention to her struggles to keep breathing and not to vomit.

The woman rider placed the bridle over her head and adjusted the bands tightly against her head, forcing the dildo gag even deeper into her. Andrea could not concentrate on anything else but trying to breathe around the gag in her mouth.

“See, there is a good filly. Now, let’s get you ready until the rest of the new herd arrives.

The woman took large safety scissors from her hip pocket and started to cut into her sleeve.

Andrea struggled with breathing, and the panic was consuming all her thoughts. Her tears started to roll again from the helplessness of the situation and the gag playing havoc with her breathing and the heaving of her stomach. She had even more trouble breathing as snot filled her airways.

“Just push it out via your Nose. You will get used to it.”

The woman was cutting through everything without care, even her fancy new bra that she had put on this morning, thinking her mother would take her out for a coffee and just lecture her. Some strategic cuts and the woman ripped off her silken blouse and continued to cut the bra off her.

“Good tits. They run in the bloodline.” She said, fondling them and squeezing them hard. One of the men holding her also took one of her tits. “Yes, very nice. Let’s see how much we must whip them before she becomes a good pony.”

She struggled and tossed her head around. Cry and snot running down her face.

Mindy didn’t stop even as a second car arrived. Another female rider, this one more Andrea's age stepped forward. Melissa was Mindy’s assistant and came forward opening the car door. A young woman got out shyly, looking around with big eyes.

“Welcome to the Farm. You are?” Asked Melissa.

“Maria.” She answered shyly.

The rider pointed over to where Andrea was manhandled and cut out of her clothes.

“Welcome Maria. You can struggle, or you can obey.”

Maria pressed her lips together, seeing what was happening to the other woman. All of a sudden, Maria felt unsure if this had been the right choice.

Melissa was about to give her commands when she saw an older man getting out of the car and gently putting an arm around the young filly. Melissa awaited and watched. She didn’t sense stubbornness from this young filly, just the emotional impact of her reins being handed over to the Farm. Mindy had said that some need a minute, so she gave her that time.

“Daughter.” The old man started, his voice a bit shaky, seeing what was happening to the other woman. “You made the decision to come here, and I support you. You choose this to give yourself and maybe us a better future. To find a good marriage and a better life than you could hope for. I sacrificed a lot and traded in all the favours left just for you to be allowed to be accepted here. Please make it worth it. I’m proud of you.”

She nodded even as tears rolled unhindered down her face. She knew what she was doing, but now that the moment had arrived, it was harder than anything she had done before.

Her Father kissed her on her head and then got back into the car. Maria could see how hard he fought for control.

As the car sped away, she turned back to the young rider, who commanded softly but firmly, “He is gone. Strip.”

Melissa understood why she had not followed her first command. The first day was always hard, especially with parents around.

Shyly, Maria started to open her blouse. “Faster filly.” And Melissa delivered a quick smack of her riding crop to Maria’s leg. Maria hurried up, getting out of her clothes. Not sure where to put them.

“You won’t need any clothes until you get branded. Then you and your owner will decide what you wear. Until then, we tell you want you do, and you follow our orders or be disciplined.”

“Yes, Mam.” And Maria just dropped her clothes to the ground as they came off her body.

“Ponies are silent. You have no words. Now get out of your skirt. Oh well… you need some trimming. Your bush is all over the shop. Turn. Good arse, good hips, tits are acceptable.”

Andrea was now naked and still trying to struggle. The Man forced her arms behind her back and tied a rope around them, forcing her to press her tits forward. Mindy attached a lead to her bridle and pulled her hard forward, making her gag harder as the gag forced itself deeper into her.

Andrea fought the rein, so Mindy used her riding crop to deliver two hard blows to her tits directly onto the nipples. She screamed inside her gag, but the rider only pulled on her lead.

“I can do this all day until your precious tits are a bleeding mess. You want that? No? Then stop struggling.” And she pulled on her lead again and led her towards Maria.

Melissa in the meantime, put a standard bridle onto her and loosely bound her hands behind her back.

“You are a good filly, " Melissa stroked Maria’s head. Maria was still fighting to gain control over herself. It all was a bit harder than she had thought it would be.

Andrea’s rider attached another lead to Maria, leading both away as another car pulled up. Andrea had no other choice than to follow, as each pull on her lead made her gag more.

Maria and Andrea’s leads were attached to a ring at the side of the house and left there to stand and wait.

Both girls were in distress. Andrea was fighting with the gag, and both of them were coping with the finality of their situation.

This car delivered a guy. Tall, well-built, and only dressed in shorts. He was already gagged and his hands in handcuffs as two obviously strong security guards pulled him out of the trunk of the car.

An older woman and an older man got out. Their clothes marked them as high-class individuals.

"You chose to be an idiot, and this is what happens to idiots. I had hoped better for you, maybe become a rider, but you kept disappointing us. Now you've impregnated someone else's daughter, and we have to pay for the damages, accept her into our family, and raise your bastard."

The woman took over, hacking into him. “You want to be a big stallion? Well, you will be. I hope your new owner will have fun with you. Be happy we didn’t disown you.”

“Lady and Lord Seville. It is good to see you again. We will make sure your offspring will be re-educated and tamed,” Mindy greeted the newcomers.

“We trust your institute. It made me a good stallion and my wife a good rider. Do whatever is necessary with George. He is now yours. We wash our hands off this one,” the father growled.

“Good to see you again, Mindy. Henry, let’s go,” his mother said and stepped back into the car as the Security people handed over the massively struggling guy.

He was shouting under his gag, pleading, but the car just drove off.

Mindy knew that type well. “Enough of this. You are now nothing more than a colt and ours to do what we want with.” She grabbed his balls through his shorts. “If you struggle too much and misbehave, I make you a gelding. You have two other brothers; your father won’t miss your sperm in the line.”

He struggled, and even through his gag, he showed attitude. Obviously, disbelieving the threat, fighting hard. The two men struggled to hold him. With a smirk, she took a Taser out of her hip pocket and, without even stopping, shot high voltage directly into his balls.

He collapsed to the ground and flipped around.

“Change him to the gag bridle and our restraints. Ah, look, everyone is on time today. The last of our new herd.”

While the men pulled out his gag and inserted the same kind that Andrea wore, Mindy sent Melissa to greet the new arrival.

The car door opened, and a naked woman stepped out, already wearing a white bridle and a matching white leather body harness, her arms tied to the harness behind her back. Standing proud and tall with her long blond hair bound to a high ponytail that almost reached her butt. The bit of her bridle was not yet in her mouth. An older woman followed her.

“There you are, Dear. I hope you have a good time and make our family proud.” The older woman said, laying a hand on the young woman’s arm.

“Thanks, Mother. I will. I will become a good mare, as you have been, and find a good owner who will make you proud.“

“That’s a good filly.” The mother inserted the bit into her mouth and then attached a lead to her daughter’s bridle. She then led her forward and handed the lead to Melissa.

“I give you my filly to be trained. Find a good stable for her with a good owner.”

She kissed her daughter on the head. “I will be looking forward to your branding. Now be the pony you were born to be.”

The mother turned around and left. A single tear drop ran down her cheek as she entered the car.

Melissa guided the newcomer to Mindy, who smiled. “Good to see a halfway broken-in Pony on the herd. Her name is Julia. She will help the others settle in. Take her over to the others while I deal with this colt.”

The guy had stopped struggling as much due to the fact that he fought to breathe and against his gagging, held upright by two other riders. Mindy approached him and cut off his shorts.

“Not too bad. We can work with that.” She said, fumbling with his dick and balls. “Would be a shame if we have to cut them off.”

George was now in real distress. Finally understanding what his fate was, he started to sob.

She stroked his head. “Yes, that’s better. Cry a bit now instead of crying a lot when we have to cut them off to tame you.”

She put a lead on him and pulled. “On your own feet, George.“

He struggled to get his feet to support, while Mindy motivated with some well-aimed strikes of her crop.

“I stable this one. You start with Julia and then Maria and Andrea. Let them settle in for a while.” She commanded the other riders.

The stables were large and contained real horses but no other ponies. They smelled of fresh straw and of horses.

Each of the new ponies was put into a stall with fresh straw and a sign with their name. Their leads were attached to a ring in the wall. The ring was placed high, so they had to stand or their leads would pull at them.

As Melissa stabled Julia she stroked her everywhere. “That’s a good filly. You have been prepared well by your mare, not like these other two. There, have a chocolate treat. That’s a good filly.” And she fed her a piece of chocolate and patted her butt.

Andrea’s treatment was different. The man tied her lead to the wall ring and then just left her there, closing the stall door behind him.

Her tears were running freely, and she sobbed as much as the gag would allow her. She felt miserable and alone. The gag still caused her distress.

Maria was stabled between Andrea and Julia in her own stall. She was also given a chocolate treat and patted on the butt. Still, she sobbed softly. She felt lost; this was not how she had envisioned it.

Foreword

• This is book 3 of 5 of the series "Contributing to Tomorrow"
• You don't have to have read the previous books to enjoy this one
• Book 2 "Private Slaughter" plays during this book
• Here are all the other books https://www.reddit.com/user/Windspirit2025/comments/1sl3zeo/contributing_to_tomorrow_book_series_chapter/

We are following Silvia, whom we met in Book 2 "Private Slaughter" in the chapter "Lisa and Eve"

Chapter 1 - Awakening

Ever since she had watched her mum disappear through the door of the Processing Centre, Silvia had been confused and scared. She had only been eight years old when her mother received her Letter, just two months shy of her twenty-sixth birthday. Bad luck by any standard.

Her dad had tried to explain it gently on the drive back, but the only thing Silvia truly understood was that her mum wasn’t coming home. She’d walked into that cold, grey building without even looking back, leaving Silvia behind in the car.

Silvia had cried for days. Even years later, the memory lingered, and deep down, she carried a nagging guilt that her mother’s departure was somehow her fault. Her dad told her over and over that it wasn’t true, but no matter how often he reassured her, a part of her still believed she had done something wrong.

It wasn’t until she reached puberty and learned about the Lottery in school that Silvia finally understood the truth.

She would never forget that day in class. They had started learning about the history of the Resource Wars, and the Great Dying that ended the wars so suddenly. The Purple Spots: an epidemic that swept across the globe and killed billions. By the time it burned through humanity and it had left it a fraction of its former population alive, the old world had come to a shattering end.

It had been fascinating to learn about the before—a society where people were either desperately poor or obscenely rich. There were still differences today, of course, but nothing like that. She had been horrified by the stories of nomad tent cities. They were swarms of desperate people sweeping across the country, stripping small communities clean and forcing survivors to join their numbers. They wandered like that until the Purple Spots wiped them out.

Her teacher had compared the Purple Spots to another plague from ancient history: the Black Death. That plague had taken five years to crawl across Europe, wiping out entire towns and villages. But when the Great Dying came, it came on wings, not on horseback. The world had been so interconnected that the disease reached the remotest corners in just four days.

After the Great Dying, the old world and its rules couldn’t be recovered. Governments collapsed, borders disappeared entirely. With the global population dropping so dramatically, the survivors had no choice but to come together in new ways. Slowly and painfully, they rebuilt. A new world emerged—one that wasn’t perfect, but alive.

But after the rebuild, resources were slim; most of the easily accessible resources had been stripped away by humanity in the last century of unrestricted growth. The remaining population struggled with the limits of their usable technology just to access what was left. The only way for humanity to survive was to mange population growth.

And then came the part Silvia wasn’t ready for. The teacher explained how humanity had solved its problems with population growth and resource scarcity in the aftermath of the Resource Wars and the Great Dying by introducing the Lottery.

Silvia had always known about the Lottery. People were selected at random, and they went away. She even suspected that her mother had been one, but she never asked her father. She was afraid he would tell her it had been her fault. She knew he was holding back something.

Of course, she knew about Girl meat. How could she not? She’d eaten it. She liked the shank cuts best, though they didn’t have them often because they were expensive. Girl sausage was more affordable, and she liked it. Her father loved Ass, and she remembered the one time they’d had Tits; they had been on special. She knew Girl meat was made from women, but somehow, she had never connected Girl meat to the Lottery and the Lottery to women like her mother.

She still couldn’t understand how she hadn’t realised what it really meant before that day. Somehow, it had never clicked. But sitting in that classroom, it finally did.

It hit her like a physical punch in the stomach. One moment, the teacher was talking about the Lottery and the Processing Centres, and the next, Silvia was running out of class. She didn’t make it to the toilets; she just vomited in some corner outside.

She held herself upright against the wall, trying to process. Her mother hadn’t left because of her, she had lost the Lottery, and she had been slaughtered, her body processed, and her pieces sold in a supermarket. As Girl meat. They’d had Girl shank two days later.

That thought made her vomit violently again and dry heave until she was sitting on the floor, exhausted, next to what had been her breakfast that morning. Her head spun.

Her teacher called her dad, and he brought her home. He sat her down at the kitchen table, trying to explain everything.

“But it could have been Mother!” Silvia cried out, her voice breaking with desperation.

Her dad shook his head firmly. “No, darling. That’s extremely unlikely. That day, more than a hundred women were slaughtered.”

“But we had Girl shank!”

Her father’s hands went through his hair. She knew he was upset and holding something back. “Silvi. Girl meat can sit for up to a week or more on the shelves.”

“But it could have been her!” she insisted, her certainty unshakable in the way only a her 13 year old stubbornness could manage.

He sighed. “So what, Silvi?” her dad said, his voice resigned but steady. “What difference does it make? She was dead. Gone. Her Girl meat was distributed to supermarkets. People ate her. And yes… maybe that shank had been hers—extremely unlikely, but possible. Did it taste any different?”

Silvia hesitated. “No,” she admitted quietly, shrinking into herself. It hadn’t tasted any different from the shanks they’d eaten together with her mother before. That realisation hit her like a second punch to the gut.

As she stewed over the taste of Girl shank, something else finally clicked.

“Will I be eaten too?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “When I’m grown up?”

Her father’s expression softened with sadness. “Maybe,” he said gently. Her father might not always have told her everything, but he never lied to her. “When you enter the slaughterable age, you’ll be in the Lottery. Just like every other woman. But the odds are better now. The cull rates are coming down steadily. The lower they get, the less chance there is you’ll ever have to go to a Processing Centre.”

He glanced at her, his voice rough.

“I really don’t want to lose you too. I want you to have a long and happy life.”

Silvia didn’t entirely understand what he meant—it was all abstract, distant. Later that night, as she lay in her bed, she couldn’t sleep. It all needed to make sense. She had to find out more for it to make sense. Yes, find out more. And that resolve finally let her fall asleep.

She started to learn. She researched. She asked careful questions.

When her class took a school trip to a Processing Centre, everything finally fell into place.

The centre wasn’t actively running, but Silvia saw everything: the clean, orderly changing room, the sterile waiting room, the machinery-packed processing lines, and finally, the cold storage.

In the freezing air of the cold storage, Silvia’s life changed. The cavernous room, chilled to the bone, was filled with rows of hanging carcasses swaying gently on meat hooks. They weren’t recognisable as people anymore. Halved torsos—headless, armless, and legless. Without their tits and cunts, you couldn’t even tell they had been women. Just Girl meat. This was where her mother had ended up. This was where she could end up.

She had to understand more about this. The why, the how. She wanted to know what her mother had gone through and what might lie ahead of her. The more she knew, the less she would be afraid of it. Just like her mother, who had walked into a Centre without looking back.

By the time she was of slaughterable age and officially entered the Lottery, the reality hit harder. She could get her Letter any day. The thought horrified and fascinated her in equal measure.

Silvia understood that the Lottery system was deeply rooted in their society, as entrenched as Girl meat itself. The genetic alteration from the Purple Spots that unbalanced their population couldn’t be undone—they’d tried, they were still trying, but currently there was no solution. The reality was that less then 30% of all births were male and female twins were common. Change wasn’t coming, at least not in her lifetime.

Cull rates were dropping, but they were levelling off slowly. She understood the maths: a constant, predictable number of women would always be slaughtered. People would keep eating Girl meat, and one day, she might be waiting in line to be slaughtered, just like her mother.

She couldn’t stop thinking about her. How calm her mother had been, walking into that building, knowing exactly what awaited her.

Had she been afraid? Nervous? Had she cried? Would it hurt? The questions haunted Silvia, horrifying her—and yet, they fascinated her.

What would it feel like, if her Letter came? How would she handle it? How would it feel to stand naked in a line of women and wait for her death?

She spent hours lingering in the cold section at the store, staring at Girl meat. Tits. Ass. Cunt. Shank. Shoulder. The speciality shelves with liver, Girl sausage, ribs, and more. The stew section, lined with soup feet and hands. Neatly packed and stacked. She wondered: how would her parts look, sitting there, waiting to be picked up? What had her mother’s parts looked like? And what about the rest? The head—where did that go?

Sometimes, her morbid curiosity disgusted her. It wasn’t normal. None of her thoughts were normal. Her mother had been slaughtered. How could she think about it so coldly? But the harder she tried to suppress it, the stronger the pull became.

She found herself studying her own reflection in the mirror—her pussy, her breasts, her butt. What would they look like as packaged cuts? When they were taken off her body? How did you take them off? How did it work? How did you carve out a Cunt? Slice off a Tit?

She studied biology books that showed the human body—its muscles, its bones. But they didn’t answer her questions. How did this work? How did this feel?

Somehow, her thoughts started to shift from how it would feel to how it was done. How did you butcher a woman’s body? And with that came another realisation: How do you kill someone fast without causing pain?

She was in the Lottery, and she knew that the waiting was the worst. She had been frightened for months, every time she checked the mailbox. It would be even worse to stand naked in line, waiting for her death. She had realised that she wasn’t afraid of dying. It would be over, and if her Letter came, what other choice was there? She knew the law.

The other girls in University prep school tried to just ignore it. Nobody really talked about it. Once, there had been the announcement that an older student had been selected, and that had been that.

She had stopped talking about it to her girlfriends. They had been repulsed and started to pull away. They didn’t want to know. Silvia didn’t blame them; ignorance would have been easier. So, she kept her fascination with Girl butchering to herself.

By the time she was almost nineteen and the end of University prep school approached, her best friend had received her Letter.

Nancy hadn’t shown up at school that day, so Silvia called her after class, figuring she was sick or just playing hooky.

“Hey, Nancy, sick or can’t be bothered again?” she asked when the call connected.

The voice that answered ran a chill down her spine. “I got my Letter.”

Nancy sounded detached, cold, emotionally withdrawn. Silvia froze, unsure what to say, before mumbling the sentence everyone was expected to use. “Thanks for your contribution to a better tomorrow.”

The words felt hollow and wrong. She caught herself quickly. “Sorry, Nancy. That’s horrible. How do you feel... How...” She couldn’t find the words. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Please.”

Silvia grabbed her bag and left immediately, her heart pounding. Nancy’s voice echoed in her mind—flat, hollow. She had to be there for her.

Nancy’s dad opened the door, looking like a zombie. His eyes were bloodshot, his movements mechanical.

“Silvia... uh, it’s not a good time now.” His voice was somewhere else.

“She asked me to come,” Silvia insisted.

There was a visible relief on his face. He nodded and stepped aside. “She’s in her room.”

“Thanks, Mr. Halbart,” Silvia said quietly, walking down the hall. What did you say to people? That stupid sentence just didn’t cut it.

Nancy was sitting at her desk, doing homework. Silvia stopped cold. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined the call. Then Nancy turned, her face a mess of dried tears, fresh ones still dripping onto her books.

“Hi, Silvi—” Her voice cracked. She turned back to her desk, grabbed something, and handed it to Silvia.

It was her Letter. Wet with her tears.

Silvia’s eyes scanned the clinical, bureaucratic sentences. Nancy had to report to a Centre for slaughter within a week of today.

"It came with this too," Nancy said, handing over a small booklet and a second sheet of paper.

The second letter was her official death certificate—Date of death: today. Cause of death: Slaughter.

A shiver ran down Silvia’s spine.

She opened the booklet. It was glossy and neatly organised, filled with step-by-step instructions: how to prepare, what to bring, what to wear, even how to say goodbye.

Silvia had never seen this booklet before, and as horrible as it was, it made her think about the details of the whole process.

She shook her head, clearing her mind. This was still Nancy, not Girl meat. She had to help her friend.

She sat down on Nancy’s bed, holding the letter and looking at her, not knowing what to say. She tried to keep her wayward thoughts in check.

“I want to know,” said Nancy, her voice raw from crying but determined nonetheless. “I know you know. I want to know. Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Silvia asked, confused.

“What will happen to me. I want to know the details. Everything. I know you know.”

“I don’t know much more than you,” Silvia said, more confused. What did Nancy think she knew? They were all taught the same things in school. They’d visited the Centre together.

“Shut... up!” Nancy said, as she always did when she wanted Silvia to listen, and for the first time, she sounded like her friend again. “You’ve been looking into this. I know, even if you don’t talk about it anymore. I saw your bookshelf. So, tell me. How will I be slaughtered? What will happen then?”

“They use a device that fires a tungsten bolt directly into the medulla oblongata. It causes immediate unconsciousness and likely brain death.”

Silvia shook herself and looked at her friend. What had she just said? So cold, so clinical, so uncaring.

“I’m sorry, Nancy...” Silvia began, her eyes filling with tears.

“No! I want to know. Nobody is telling me anything.” Nancy took her hands. “Please tell me. What happens then? Will it hurt?”

Silvia blinked. She didn’t know what to feel. She just stared at her friend.

“Silvia, tell me. Come on. Please. I need to know. I’m afraid of it,” Nancy pleaded.

“Don’t be afraid. It will be over in a heartbeat. You won’t feel a thing. The…” She stopped, looking at her friend again, seeing how badly Nancy wanted to know. Silvia took a deep breath. “The butcher will hold the device to your head, and you will be gone. The hardest part will be the wait. But after that, it’s done. You’re gone. Painless. By every account I’ve read.”

Nancy hesitated. “Do I have to wait long? How does it work?”

“You undress, you shower, and you will be asked to clean out your bowels.”

“Naked? Clean my bowels?” Nancy asked, astounded and confused.

“Yes, women are slaughtered naked, and you have to clean your colon. It’s not an execution, it’s a slaughter. Food and health regulations require all this. When a body dies, it relaxes all its muscles… and the sphincter opens... and...”

“Yuck!” Nancy shrank back, disgusted. “But cleaning myself out is yuck too.”

“I guess.” Silvia didn’t have to guess—she had tried it out. It wasn’t that bad. Maybe a bit messy, but not really that bad.

Nancy looked at her inquisitively. “You know how to do that.” It was not a question but a statement. “You tried it!”

Silvia nodded, embarrassed. Nancy knew her too well. “Yes. I do. It’s not that bad.”

“But I have to be naked also, right?” asked Nancy under her breath, looking down, embarrassed.

Her embarrassment pushed Silvia’s buttons. “Nancy, you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time—how I would handle it. One thing that stuck with me was this: whatever you do until your...” She hesitated, but she knew she needed to say it. “...until your slaughter doesn’t matter. You’ll be gone. You can do whatever you want. Nothing will matter anymore. You’ll be Girl meat, whether you do it or not, whether you’re embarrassed or not. It doesn’t matter.”

Nancy drew back, shocked, her mouth open as her brain processed what Silvia had said.

Then her face changed, and a bit of the old Nancy returned. “You’re right.” She blinked. “You are right. I will be...” She took a deep breath. “...I will be Girl meat anyway.”

She stood up, grabbed her phone off her desk, and dialled.

“Hey, Peter. It’s Nancy. Would you like to fuck me? Because I want to. What? Yeah, I’m serious. Come over in two hours.” She smiled. “Cool.” She hung up.

Silvia stared at her friend like she had two heads.

“What? You’re right. Doesn’t happen often, but it does,” Nancy said with a teasing grin.

Silvia rolled her eyes. Nancy continued, unfazed. “I want sex, so I’m getting some. If I don’t fuck him now, I never will. I always wanted him, but I was too shy to do something about it. So I’m doing it now.”

“Fair enough,” Silvia said. She was right. Silvia had never pushed her thoughts that far, but yes. Why not? She would want that too.

Nancy sat back on the bed with her, taking Silvia’s hands. “So, I clean myself out, and then?”

This was hard. Silvia had thought about all this in theory, about how it would be and how she would handle it. Now Nancy had to go through with it. She didn’t want her to go, but the only option left to her was to help her friend. Be there for her as much as she could.

Nancy badgered her, as always, to tell her everything she knew and then show her how to clean her bowels. Silvia even helped her shave herself completely clean.

Nancy decided to stay naked to get used to it. She looked at herself in the mirror, stroking her boobs, her pussy, her stomach, and her legs.

“What do you think?”

“You look stunning, that’s for sure. You’re not as afraid anymore.”

She dropped her arms and turned away. “I am... but also less. I don’t know...” Her words faltered, and she drew in a shaky breath. “I feel less frozen. I want to do things before I’m...” She exhaled sharply, struggling with the word. “...slaughtered. This is so hard.”

Tears spilled down her face again, and Silvia took her in her arms, holding her. Silvia had read about this—mood swings, the rush of anger, grief, and acceptance—but witnessing them was something else entirely.

After a long moment, Nancy pulled back, her eyes red and puffy. Her voice, though, had a spark of determination. “Thanks, Silvi. I’ve decided something.”

“What?” Silvia asked cautiously. You never knew with Nancy.

“I’m going to the beach tomorrow. I want to spend the whole day there, soaking up the sun. And then, the day after... I’ll go to the Processing Centre.” She swallowed, her voice cracking. “I want it over... fast. I don’t think I can wait a week without going mental. It’s hard enough right now. Will you come help me again and drive me? And say goodbye?”

Silvia hesitated, her heart tightening painfully in her chest. “Of course. Screw school. Let’s make tomorrow a day to remember. But don’t your dads want to drive you?”

Nancy shook her head. “No. I want you to talk to me, keep me calm. My dads aren’t taking it very well. I may be adopted, but...”

“I’ll drive you that day,” Silvia confirmed resolutely. “And I’ll come with you to the beach tomorrow. Pick me up?”

Nancy smiled faintly, her lips trembling. “You’re a good friend.” She paused, wiping her tears. “Thanks for telling me everything earlier. It… helped. I was so scared of what I didn’t know.”

Silvia nodded, feeling the weight of Nancy’s words. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You know what bothers me the most? The...” She breathed in deeply. “The butchers are probably male and I will be naked... and they won’t care about me. I’m just the next in line.”

Silvia nodded. She had never thought of it like that before. Yes, in the processing line, it was about speed. The more women slaughtered, the fewer the others had to wait and watch.

“I’m sorry about that. I wish I could change it.”

Nancy looked at her, searching for something, and then said, “I think I can do this. I don’t want to, but I have to, and now I think I can. Because of you.”

It was nice to hear that her morbid fascination had been good for something. She would miss Nancy so much. Briefly, she wondered how many other friends she would lose—or if they would lose her.

“I’m glad I could help you. I’m just going to mis—”

“Nope. Shut... up! Don’t go all gooey and soft on me now. You can cry your heart out in two days. Until then... shut... UP!” Her eyes blazed, putting emphasis on the last words, but there was a small smile on her face.

Silvia could see Nancy pulling herself together, using humour as a shield. It was so her.

Silvia opened her mouth, ready to tell her to ‘shut... up!’ when a knock on the door interrupted them.

Her dad said through the closed door, “There’s a boy here called Peter... said you called him?” His voice was slightly irritated.

“Thanks, Dad. Let him in. I’ll be having sex—a lot—and loud.” She winked at Silvia. Shocking her poor dad was Nancy’s favourite sport. Her father was harder to rattle.

“Nancy! You...” He was about to say something more but stopped. You could hear the stunned silence on the other side of the door. It must not be easy for the parents, either. Silvia had never asked her father how it had been for him. She felt a bit ashamed about that.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll go out and buy some nice dinner for us all. Your father will be home shortly. I’ll leave a note on the door. You want anything special?” His voice sounded steadier now, like he’d found something to do to keep himself from falling apart.

“Can I have my favourite chilli-fried chips? The ones I love. From the Chinese shop.”

After a moment of silence, he simply said, resigned, “Sure. Why not? If that makes you happy.” And Silvia could hear him leave.

“Dad needs something to do. Without Father, he’s always a nervous wreck.”

Silvia grinned. “You have fun and tell me everything tomorrow. Okay?”

Nancy flopped on the bed, naked, propping herself up on the pillows and opening her legs suggestively. Trying to look all sexy. “You bet. I’ll make you all jealous.”

“Ah, Nancy... you’re trying to make him cum in his pants first?” Silvia teased.

Nancy threw a pillow at her. “Close the door behind you. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Don’t tell anyone about my Letter. Please. I don’t want a pity party.”

Silvia left and said “hi and bye” to Peter as they met in the hall.

Yes… Nancy was doing the only right thing. Silvia was glad she could help her.

“Are you mental?” her mother screamed, her voice cracking.

“No, I’m not. I’ve been selected, and they’re going to slaughter me, so at least I can go out the way I want,” Rose replied resolutely, her arms crossed under her chest.

“Strangled? Slowly? What’s wrong with you?” her father added, his voice filled with horror.

“Lots. But it’s my choice. I have to die—not you. I want it this way. So, are you coming to watch or not?”

Her parents stared at her wide-eyed. Rose regretted telling them immediately. Stupid idea. She’d only told her brother and sisters that she’d got her Letter. Why did she think her parents would handle it any better?

“Not! I don’t want to watch you being slowly strangled to death,” her mother spat.

“Me neither,” her father added, shaking his head. “Sorry, Rose. It’s hard enough knowing you have to leave us.”

“Well, will you at least drop me off?”

“Yes, of course I’ll drive you,” her father said, his voice thick with emotion. “But, Rose...” He hesitated, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t watch that. I’m sorry.”

“I get it. I’m sorry, too. Would you watch if it was the fast and painless one? You know, where they hang you upside down, make you cum, and then slit your throat?”

Her parents exchanged uneasy glances. Her mother opened her mouth to say something but closed it again.

“I didn’t think you’d want to watch,” Rose said softly. “I just want to die on my own terms. But... I’d really appreciate a ride.”

“They don’t have a pickup service?” her father asked, his voice breaking. “You spent all your meat compensation on this, and they don’t even come to get you? We could have used that money.”

“I know,” Rose said, shrugging. Her tone was light but deliberate. “But it’s my meat and my slaughter. I get to decide. Besides...” She paused for effect, letting the silence stretch. “With the package I selected, you get free cuts of me. So...”

She twirled around playfully and lifted her boobs with a grin. “...what do you want?”

“How can you be so cold about this? I’m just glad I’m out of the lottery,” her mother said, sounding utterly drained.

“I always knew I’d be selected. Don’t ask me how—I just knew. So, I’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea. I’m not afraid. I just want it to be on my terms. So, Mom... what parts do you want? Tit? Cunt? Ass? Those are the expensive cuts.”

Her mother sighed, shaking her head as she looked her up and down. “Ass and tits.”

Rose scrunched her nose. “You don’t want my cunt? It’s a premium cut.”

“It is, but I wouldn’t know how to prepare it properly. Tits and ass last longer. We have a family to feed.”

“Fair enough. Tits and ass it is,” Rose said with a smirk. “If you don’t want to wait for me to be processed, they’ll ship it out the next day.”

Her mother looked away, swallowing hard. Her father stepped closer. “We love you. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry, but I need this to be my way.”

“You’re mad, but I love you,” he said, his voice thick. “I’ll miss you.”

What really pissed her off was that her parents wouldn’t let her skip her job for her remaining days. What the fuck. She was dead meat! But she understood they needed the money and they wouldn’t get any from her body.

As her final day arrived, she felt nervous—not about dying, but about whether this really would work out the way she had dreamed it would. Maybe this had all been a stupid fantasy. She would find out soon enough. She had spent her last night with her girlfriend and had made love to her. Not just fucked around, but made love to her.

She hadn’t told her about her plans either. She would have just freaked out. She would miss her; she really loved her.

It had taken all her convincing to make sure her girlfriend didn’t volunteer to join her. As much as she loved her, it would’ve ruined everything.

Strangulation had been something she’d gotten into somehow. She couldn’t even remember where she’d seen it first—probably some random video. She’d tried it herself, looping a belt around her neck while flipping her pearl. The orgasm had been incredible. After that, she was hooked.

Later, she’d badgered her girlfriend into choking her while fucking her with a strap-on. Rose had passed out, and the orgasm? Out of this world. But her girlfriend had never done it again—too scared she’d kill her.

Rose hoped her slaughter would be just as good. Better, even. This was her last one, after all. She wanted to go out with the biggest orgasm of her life.

The facility had given her a safe word—well, a signal. If it got to be too much, she could tap out and just die. She liked that. It made her feel secure, like they actually cared about getting it right—for her.

When the email with customisation options came, she just stared at the screen. The possibilities were... something else... She had no idea.

Slow and painless? No, thanks. Hanging? Too fast, and she wanted to struggle. Strangulation seemed perfect. It would let her scream, hopefully. She really wanted to go out loud. In her apartment and in her girlfriend’s place, they could not really be that loud. The only option she had considered was being fucked doggy by a guy while he cut her throat. But she wanted to struggle, fight. She wanted to be restrained. Also, she had never been with a guy and was not sure she would like it.

The other options were morbidly fascinating but not her thing... at all. Drowning. Maybe, but she had never played with that option before. Beheaded? Too fast. And it only went downhill from there. Electrocution, Dismemberment, Gutted alive, Flayed alive! Did anyone really choose any of that? Well... there must be a reason it was in the catalogue.

And her mom thought she was mental. Maybe she should forward the email to her. No—stupid idea. Almost as stupid as this whole idea might turn out to be.

But dead was dead. She remembered the one orgasm when her girlfriend had choked her out. It had been beyond. How much worse could it really be?

She wasn’t afraid to die, just to be disappointed by it. It was strange; maybe something was wrong with her. But nothing that could be fixed anymore.

Anyway. She took a long shower, massaged her pearl, and then dressed in an old hoodie and jeans, stuff that nobody wanted anymore. She would leave it there.

“Dad! I’m ready!” Rose shouted.

When she stepped out of her room, her entire family was waiting for her. Fuck. Not what she wanted.

“We’ll make it short. I know you don’t want a big goodbye... but we need it,” her mother said, her voice barely holding together.

Rose sighed. Her mom was right. She’d be gone—dead. They’d have to keep living.

She knelt and pulled her little sister into a tight hug. “I love you, little scoundrel,” she whispered. Her sister clung to her, sobbing into her hoodie.

One by one, she hugged her siblings. “You have a better chance now of not winning the lottery. Make the most of it, okay? Promise me.”

Her mother hugged her last. “I won’t come with you. It’s... I just can’t...”

“I love you, Mom. I get it. My choice doesn’t change that.”

Her mom exhaled shakily. “That’s true. This way, at least, you get what you want. I’ll try to be happy for you.”

“That means a lot to me. Thanks, Mom,” Rose replied softly.

Her dad broke in. “Okay, we need to get going. Don’t want to be late.” His voice cracked. They both knew it was bullshit—just a way to keep things moving.

Rose took a deep breath and walked to the door. “My ass and tits will be back for tomorrow’s dinner. Enjoy!” The gasp behind her made her smile.

In the car, her dad finally spoke. “Was that really necessary? Your little sister probably won’t eat for days now.”

“She’ll eat. She has to. You have to make her. It’s better for her this way. She needs to understand what could happen—and that she doesn’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he muttered. “I just... I can’t understand how you’re not afraid.”

“I don’t know. I’m actually looking forward to it a little,” she admitted. “You’re probably right—there’s something wrong with me.”

They drove in silence, the tension heavy between them.

At Clapton Private Processing, Rose turned to her father. “I’m going in alone, okay? Please... take care of my sisters. Make sure they have long, happy lives.”

He inhaled sharply. “I love you. I don’t think you’re mad. Just... determined.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” Then, before he could say another word, she stepped out of the car and walked straight into the building without looking back.

The building was really classy. She was impressed. After looking around, she went up directly to the receptionist.

“Hi, I’m here for my slaughter,” she said, and handed her the letter. She almost sounded chipper; it made her smile.

The receptionist’s eyebrows went up in astonishment. But she checked her in, scanned her chip, and asked her to sit in the waiting room. Waiting room. Fuck, they were boring. A mother and her daughter were already waiting there. Poor girl, she looked pale and afraid.

After a while, a family joined them. The daughter looked more composed, and her mother was nervously chatting.

Looking at them, she wished her parents had come and shared her vision, but she understood.

They started to chat, and the older daughter flipped out when she told her she had customised. She had selected the quick and painless path. Most people went for the quick and painless options. Rose wasn’t like most people. She wanted to feel every moment—every ounce of pain and pleasure.

What astounded her was the mother and young daughter. To volunteer to die with your child, her stepdaughter... that took guts.

Finally, it started, and they were led into the first room to undress. She put everything into the containers as it wasn’t worth anything anyhow.

The next room was for cleaning. Shaving? She looked down at herself and then at Jessica. She had not thought about that. Her girlfriend liked a bush, so she had never really shaved.

“Anne, I would take that offer, please,” she said. “Sure, happy to help you. Let’s get you on the extractor first, and then I will help you, okay?”

“Sure.” Rose got onto the thing and watched as Jessica was hooked up. Easy enough, her girlfriend had fucked her butt often enough. That tube was nothing. She probably didn’t need it. She had cleaned her butt out before. The last thing she wanted was to shit herself when she went.

Anne was nice and older, but she would do her in a heartbeat. It turned her on to no end to be shaved by her, and the result was extremely nice. She had never seen her pussy bald like that; she could see every fold and the wetness that had started developing. She liked it, something different, something very sexy.

“There you are. That looks much better now, don’t you think?” Anne asked, sitting back.

Rose looked down and stroked her newly bare, suddenly oversensitive pussy, and that made her shudder.

The last room was for waiting. She felt heartbroken about Eve, but she had a brave mother, and their Butcher seemed nice, too. She hoped it would go easy for both of them.

When Anne came back, she said, “Rose, we are ready for you. Please follow me. Jessica, I’m sorry you will have to wait a moment longer. Eve and Lisa… we need more time. Sorry.”

Rose turned to Jessica. “I wish you a quick and painless slaughter.” And she meant it.

“I don’t know what to wish you; I just hope you find what you are looking for,” Jessica replied, and Rose blinked, astounded. That was probably the kindest thing anyone had said to her. “Thanks. That’s nice.” She stood and followed Anne, her gaze lingering on her nice butt.

“Anne, is it too late to book some extra sex in?” she asked, her voice light but hopeful.

“Probably. We’ve got a guy who does that; he really gets off on it.”

“Oh… I’ve never been with a guy before. I’d try that.”

“Ask your Butcher. You’ve got a long session ahead, so maybe she can arrange something. All right, here we are.”

Anne stopped and opened the door for her, revealing a small, utilitarian room with a bench and a spreader bar on chains. It wasn’t at all how Rose had imagined it.

“Hi, I’m Alexandra, and I’ll be taking care of you today. This is Melissa, my assistant,” said a woman with sharp eyes and a commanding presence. Both women wore white aprons.

“Hi. You’re… my Butchers, right?” Rose asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

“Yes, we are,” Alexandra replied with a slight smile. “We’ll make sure you’re properly slaughtered, exactly as per your specifications.” Alexandra paused and smiled. “No. This bench isn’t for you. We only do the check-in here with you. After that, we’ll head to your slaughter room and begin.”

“Good. I was worried for a second,” Rose said with a smile, then turned around. “You probably need my chip?”

Alexandra smirked and scanned Rose’s chip. “All right, identity confirmed. Now, I need to go over your customisations, and I need you to confirm each point with a clear Yes or No. Ready?”

“Sure.” Rose blurted out.

Alexandra’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing like a strict teacher about to scold.

“Yes,” Rose corrected herself quickly, swallowing hard.

“Better.” Alexandra continued down her list. “You selected strangulation.”

“Yes.”

“You specified you want it slow and to cum until you can’t take it anymore. Then you want to end it.”

“Yes.”

“You want to be restrained so you can fight against it. But you won’t fight us.”

“Yes.”

“You want to bleed.”

“No.” Rose shook her head firmly. She hadn’t included that on her list.

“Good. Just checking that you are paying attention,” Alexandra said.

It was reassuring that they double-checked. It made her feel like they really had paid attention to her.

Alexandra continued her list. “You prefer women as sexual partners.”

“Yes,” she said—but she wouldn’t mind trying that guy. Last chance, after all.

“You want to be forced if possible.” Alexandra’s gaze swept over her. “I can’t guarantee that. My safety comes first.”

“Understood.” Alexandra’s eyes narrowed again. “Sorry. Yes.” And she felt more like a stupid schoolgirl than ever before.

Alexandra continued, but her voice became slightly edgy. “What’s your safe word and signal?”

“Pepperoni, or I shake my head up and down.”

“Correct. You understand that if you use your safe word, I’ll kill you as fast as possible. It might not be pleasant, but it will be quick. You will be dead.”

Rose swallowed hard. “Yes.” There was no turning back. Even if it hurt, it would be over.

“Are you sure about all your selections?”

“Yes.”

“All right, that’s it. Anything you’d like to add?”

“Anne mentioned you had a guy who could fuck me?”

Alexandra tilted her head. “Yeah, but it’s too late to set that up now. Sorry.”

Rose shrugged. “That’s fine. I’m a bit nervous… sorry. I just…”

Alexandra held up her finger, and to her own surprise, Rose shut up immediately. “Anne, thank you. Go sit with Jessica. I will get started on Rose and then do her in between when I give Rose a little break so she lasts longer.”

“Thank you for your contribution to a better tomorrow,” Anne said as she closed the door. Rose could never understand what that sentence actually was supposed to accomplish. Probably something that people could say to make them feel better.

Alexandra turned back to Rose, her expression curious. “Sexual fantasy?”

Rose smiled faintly. “Oh yes. Very much so.”

Alexandra nodded, her expression shifting abruptly, becoming sterner. She focused on her, and Rose felt like she was under a massive spotlight. She froze. Alexandra stepped forward slowly, reached out and began grabbing her hair. Rose held her breath but didn’t move. Alexandra intensified her grip and then yanked her head back hard. A passionate gasp escaped Rose’s lips as arousal shot through her.

“Hands behind your back!” Alexandra commanded, her voice sharp and unyielding. Rose obeyed instantly. She could feel how much this turned her on; her pussy was already wet.

With her grip still firm on Rose’s hair, Alexandra dragged her through the small room toward the door Melissa held open. Rose’s heart pounded in her chest with excitement. Nobody had ever pulled her hair before—it felt like she was being owned.

The next room was much larger. At its centre stood a massive St Andrew’s Cross mounted at a slight angle, its arms equipped with restraints. Machinery was positioned at neck level, its purpose both ominous and intriguing.

“Kneel,” Alexandra ordered, her tone sharp, pointing in front of the cross.

Rose dropped to her knees without hesitation. This was so much better than she had imagined. As she knelt there, the thought struck her—this would be the first and last time she’d experience anything like this. A pang of sadness swelled in her chest, but she pushed it aside. At least she was experiencing it. That was something.

As she raised her eyes to meet Alexandra’s, she felt something. A connection she couldn’t explain but felt in every nerve of her body. She swallowed hard; there was electricity between them.

“Melissa, raise the cross. This one wants to die crying—right, bitch?”

Oh, my! Her words sent a shiver down Rose’s spine. She hadn’t realised how much she’d like being talked to like that—how much she wanted it. All of it.

“Yes, Mistress,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Not Mistress,” Alexandra snapped, her voice cold and cutting. “Butcher.”

Alexandra’s expression turned blank for a second—then cold. “Because that’s what I’ll do to you. I’ll gut you like the sow you are—cut your tits off, carve out your cunt, and take anything else of value. But...” Her butcher’s eyes dragged over her body, unimpressed. “Honestly. You’re mostly dog food.”

“Please… Butcher. My tits and ass—I promised them to my family. Please,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. For the first time, she wasn’t sure whether her Butcher meant it or not. Whether this was a game or real.

“Making promises you can’t keep?” Her Butcher smirked. “We’ll see if you cry loud enough in pain for me. Maybe. Otherwise, I’ll throw your whole body in the shredder and save myself the trouble. Dogs eat everything.”

Rose shivered at the thought. Dog food? The words echoed in her head, chilling her to the core. Was her meat really worthless?

“Now get your stinking muff over there. I don’t have all day.” The cold, harsh tone of her Butcher’s voice twisted something deep inside her. She couldn’t explain it, but her pussy was dripping wet.

Rose stood and moved toward the cross, her legs trembling. Melissa grabbed her right hand harshly, pulling her forward and forcing her onto her toes before strapping her in. Then, she did the same with her left hand. The position was uncomfortable—Rose had to stand perfectly straight, or the straps would dig painfully into her wrists.

Melissa looped a leather strap around her neck, threading it back into something behind her. The strap tightened suddenly with an electric whir, and Rose gasped, her throat constricting. She needed to stand on her toes, desperate to keep the pressure off her neck.

Her Butcher sauntered into view, a bullwhip dangling from her hand. She stopped in front of Rose, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Listen, little bitch. As long as you look me in the eyes, I’ll whip you mercilessly. Understood?”

Rose bit her lip, her body trembling with something she couldn’t name. Her pussy was so obscenely wet that her fluids began sliding down the inside of her leg. Her breathing hitched, but she nodded and locked eyes with her Butcher.

The whip uncoiled with a sharp hiss, and with a flick of her wrist, it lashed across Rose’s stomach. A burst of pain radiated through her body, and she cried out, tears springing to her eyes.

“Good, little bitch. Cry for me.”

The whip cracked again, this time striking her breasts. Rose screamed, her body jerking against the restraints. Her breast felt like it was on fire where she had hit it, but she kept her gaze fixed on her Butcher’s cold, steady eyes.

Another strike followed, landing just above her pussy. The pain was blinding, and Rose’s legs jerked upward instinctively, lifting her off her toes. The leather strap around her neck bit into her throat, cutting off her scream in a wet gurgle. Her body twisted as she struggled to get her feet back under her, her head turning red as she fought for breath.

Finally, she found the ground, her toes barely holding her weight. She coughed violently, tears running down her face as sobs wracked her body.

“Giving up already, little bitch?” her Butcher taunted, circling her slowly. “Come on. The fun’s just started.”

Her Butcher stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. Without warning, she forced a hand between Rose’s legs, plunging deep into her obscenely wet pussy. Rose gasped, instinctively spreading her legs, even as the leather strap bit into her throat. She fought against the strangulation, her body writhing, but she didn’t want the hand to leave. Especially as it found her pearl and teased it with cruel precision. A loud, broken moan escaped her lips.

“Come, little bitch... look me in the eyes. Do it, and I’ll let you cum.”

Rose was sobbing, her body shaking as she struggled to keep the weight off her neck. The strap dug in relentlessly, leaving her gasping for air. Through the blur of tears, she forced herself to look up, meeting her Butcher’s piercing gaze again.

“Better,” her Butcher said, a cruel smirk curling her lips. “Much better. Maybe I won’t make dog food out of you after all.”

The whip cracked again, this time slashing across her other breast. Rose screamed as loudly as she could, her cries echoing in the room. To scream like that felt so good. She had never been able to scream in her life before, and now her Butcher demanded it from her.

“Open your legs. The next one’s for your pussy. Come on, bitch. Open them,” her Butcher barked, her voice sharp and commanding. The whip struck her breast again, and Rose screamed desperately again.

“Open them, or I’ll ruin your tits, and the only thing your family will eat is Tit Tartare.”

No. Please, no. The thought unlocked a wave of cold panic. She couldn’t let that happen. Her family had to have her tits—especially her little sister. She loved baked tits. Rose took a shuddering breath and spread her legs, lifting them off the ground. Her full weight hung from her wrists and neck, the leather strap biting viciously into her throat.

Her whole world narrowed to the fight for air and the strain on her arms. Then the whip cracked. Pain exploded between her legs, radiating out from her pussy like a wildfire. She tried to scream, but the strap strangled the sound, leaving her choking and gasping. Her head spun as the searing agony overwhelmed her. Nothing had ever hurt like this.

She kicked and thrashed, her body convulsing, then she was hit again. Her head spun from the lack of oxygen and the pain. She couldn’t take it anymore; she put her legs back down onto the ground. The instant her toes touched the floor, air rushed into her lungs. She coughed and heaved, her entire body shaking.

Her Butcher’s hand slid back between Rose’s legs, pressing firmly against her clit. The contact sent a shockwave through her body, like an electric jolt. Rose jerked, her breath hitching as the fingers moved with precision, knowing exactly what to do where. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, the orgasm hit her like a freight train.

It tore through her like a flood wave, uncontrollable. Her body bucked, her head fell back, her vision blurred. She came so hard, so fast, that the world around her seemed to dissolve into nothing.

The strap dug into her again as her body relaxed, and it jolted her back to reality.

She panted, her chest heaving, trying to catch her breath. A hand stroked her cheek—soft, almost tender.

“Kiss me if you like what I’m doing to you,” Alexandra whispered, her voice soft and alluringly feminine. Her face hovered close, her breath warm against Rose’s lips.

Rose wanted to kiss her, needed to, but the strap around her neck made her hesitate. To reach Alexandra, she would have to let it tighten again. She swallowed hard and leaned forward, letting the strap bite into her throat. The pressure stole her breath, but the kiss... the kiss was worth it. Alexandra’s lips moved slowly, lovingly, as her tongue gently sought Rose’s. The intimacy was electric, a lifeline amidst the anguish before. Alexandra pushed her head back slightly with the kiss, easing the tension on the strap just enough for Rose to draw a shallow, desperate breath.

When Alexandra pulled back, the softness disappeared. Her voice became cold and detached, cutting through the moment like a knife. Her Butcher was back.

“I’m going to slaughter your little friend now. It will take some time. I’ll leave you here. I hope for your sake she dies quickly enough. Try not to die of boredom in the meantime; you wouldn’t want to miss all the fun we still have left together.”

Rose couldn’t see behind her, but she heard the door click shut and then silence. She was alone. Nobody was there. For the first time, fear crept in.

The straps kept her tied so tightly that she had to stand on her toes just to get air. Without anyone watching, without Alexandra’s presence, she could die here—and no one would notice until it was too late. She didn’t want to go like this!

Her heart raced as she tried to calm herself. She could feel the burning welts left by the whip radiating pain, her pussy burning with the whip lashes, but beneath that was the echo of her orgasm, the ghost of Alexandra’s kiss.

What if no one came? What if she passed out and died here, not from pleasure or pain, but from fucking neglect?

She shifted her weight, raising one foot, relaxing it, then the other. It helped, but not for long.

Her thoughts returned, clearer now, and with them came a wave of loss. She realised she would never feel anything like that again—never experience anything again. For the first time, she grieved for her life. She wished her girlfriend were here. She wanted to kiss her one last time.

She wasn’t afraid to die, not really. She was afraid of not feeling anything anymore.

But now her legs were trembling, her toes cramping. She shifted again, but it only bought her seconds. She hadn’t noticed that Melissa had gone too. Fuck... Jessica, please just die. Please! She needed Alexandra back, her Butcher... Anyone!

Desperation clawed at her as she took a deep breath and let her feet hang free, trying to relax her cramping muscles. The leather strap bit into her throat, and she gurgled, struggling as her neck muscles fought to bear the weight of her body. Her lungs burned, her vision darkened. With a last, desperate effort, she managed to plant her feet back on the floor and coughed violently, dragging air back into her lungs. Her legs had relaxed a bit, but not enough.

She hadn’t thought it would be like this. Not ever. Tears started to run down her cheeks.

She did her little dance, lifting one leg and then the other. It helped only for a short time. More tears ran down her face as the futility started to overwhelm her.

Her voice cracked as she howled into the empty room, “Jessica, fucking die already!” She didn’t want to go like this. Not like this.

Her toes cramped again, and she tried to hold out, but her legs gave way. She dropped, the strap tightening instantly. She hadn’t taken a breath, and her body convulsed as she struggled desperately to find air, to get her feet back under her.

She didn’t want to die like this. Not like this.

As the darkness crept closer and she lost all hope, a mechanical whir sounded behind her, and the strap around her neck loosened. She collapsed forward, gasping, her feet barely able to hold her up. Her lungs burned as she sucked in air, her wrists biting into the straps above her. But she was alive.

She coughed, her legs trembling, barely able to stand. There had to be some kind of safety mechanism in the strangulation device—something that released when she was close to death. But even as she thought that, three electronic beeps sounded, and the strap began to tighten again.

“Shit! Shit!” she gasped, rising onto her toes once more.

Back to square one.

“Fucking hell, Jess. DIE!” she screamed, her voice raw with frustration and anger.

Her body began to shake uncontrollably, and she danced between strangling herself and trying to relieve the strain on her legs and toes. Tears of exhaustion and rage streamed down her face.

The door opened. Alexandra’s voice was calm, almost amused. “Oh... you are still alive. That’s good. I like you.”

Rose sobbed, her body trembling. “I don’t want to go like this. Please. Not like this.”

“Bitch, you don’t have any control anymore,” her Butcher replied coldly. “Except for your safe word. Want to use it?”

“No! Just... just not like that. Not alone.”

Alexandra sounded closer to her. Her hand touched her lightly and carefully stroked her tears away.

Alexandra’s mouth was close to hers, and Rose yearned for her lips. Then they touched hers, and Alexandra’s tongue opened her mouth. Rose melted away. The femininity and softness of Alexandra were more than she had ever found with her girlfriend.

Alexandra stepped back and her Butcher smirked. “I’ll let you down for a while, if I can whip your pussy again.”

“Yes. Okay.”

“I think you need to beg properly.” Her stern voice echoed.

“Please, Butcher, let me down.”

“Wrong. Bitch.”

The strap around Rose’s throat tightened with the sharp hum of the electric motor. Her breath caught as she struggled against the growing pressure. Her thoughts blurred into panic.

“Please, Butcher, whip my pussy. Please! I’m begging you! Whip my pussy.”

Instantly, the strap released, and the St Andrew’s Cross tilted backward. Slowly, the tension on her arms and neck eased.

Her Butcher stepped forward, strapping one of Rose’s legs to the lower end of the cross, then the other. She was now spread-eagle, completely exposed.

“Now I have good access to everything,” her Butcher murmured, satisfied as she stroked her leg.

The whip cracked, striking her pussy with a sharp, searing pain that radiated through her body like a shockwave. Rose screamed, the sound raw and primal. Another strike followed. And then another. The pain grew overwhelming, her world spinning as she cried out incoherently, her screams dissolving into sobs.

“You’re too loud,” her Butcher said, her voice calm and detached. The electric motor hummed again, and the strap around Rose’s throat tightened. Her screams turned into wet gurgles, her eyes wide as her vision blurred. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, as two more blows landed between her legs.

The strap loosened abruptly, and Rose collapsed, coughing and gasping for air. Tears streamed down her face as her body shook uncontrollably. She whimpered, her voice barely audible, her mind a haze of pain and submission.

Then something changed. A wave of pleasure rippled between her legs, sharp and undeniable. Rose looked down, her breath hitching. Alexandra smiled at her and blew her a kiss while she held a vibrator against her clit, its rhythmic pulses cutting through the lingering pain. She had taken off her top, and the view of her angelic breasts made Rose all woozy.

A guttural moan escaped Rose as Alexandra found her pearl. She had thought the whip had destroyed her pussy, that she couldn’t feel anything but agony. But now—this—pleasure overtook her, building into something unstoppable. Her body arched, her hips bucking against the sensation as a massive orgasm ripped through her. She jerked violently, her cries a mix of pleasure and pain, the climax drowning out everything else.

And then the strap tightened again.

The pressure on her throat pushed the orgasm to an unthinkable height, turning it into something wild and uncontrollable. Her vision swam, her body bucking and convulsing. The lack of oxygen and the endorphin release sent waves of ecstasy crashing through her, making her cum harder than ever before.

She panted, struggling to regain even a shred of consciousness. Her chest heaved as she fought for air, but it wasn’t enough. The whip struck again—across her breasts, her stomach—sharp lines of fire cutting through the haze.

Pleasure? Pain? Rose didn’t know anymore. The sensations blurred together, an endless loop of whip, strangulation, orgasm, and soft kisses. She was floating, untethered, somewhere between agony and ecstasy, life and death. She wasn’t sure if she had been here for hours or days. Time didn’t exist anymore, only the relentless cycle of pleasure and pain.

A wetness on her face snapped her back to some kind of reality. The scent hit her first—heady and sweet. A woman’s pussy lowered onto her mouth, warm and slick. Rose’s throat was parched, and she began lapping at the salty-sweet juices, her tongue moving hungrily, trying to quench her thirst. The taste grounded her, giving her something tangible to hold onto. She could’ve cried from joy.

Somewhere below, the vibrator roared to life against her own pussy. A moan escaped Rose, muffled by the pussy grinding against her face. The vibrations tore through her, ripping apart what little hold on reality remained in her mind. Pleasure, pain, and exhaustion had swirled together into a single, overwhelming force she could not tell apart anymore.

“Goodbye, Rose,” she heard Alexandra’s voice, soft and feminine. Just like her kiss.

The strap tightened.

Rose’s body fought instinctively, pulling against the restraints, her lungs screaming for air. But amidst the chaos, there was no hesitation in her mind.

Yes... like this.

It was everything she’d wanted—everything she couldn’t find on her own. The warmth of the pussy on her face, the vibrator driving her higher, the leather strap stealing her breath—it all aligned in perfect harmony.

She let herself go, surrendering completely. The scent, the taste, the sounds of Alexandra’s moans filled her world. The leather strap bit deeper, cutting off her air and her blood. Her vision blurred, her body trembled, her thoughts dissolved into nothingness. Pleasure crashed through her one last time, unstoppable and all-consuming.

As her final breath caught in her closed throat, the world exploded into light, heat, and sensation. And then, at last, it faded to black.

Alexandra stayed seated on Rose’s face, her chest heaving as she came down from her climax. She knew Rose was gone, but she had to make sure. Rose’s last breath had been into her pussy, just like many others before her, but it still felt special every time. She had been able to give Rose that—make her death feel better.

“Melissa, check her chip, please,” Alexandra said, her voice still unsteady.

She heard Melissa type on her remote. A soft beep followed. “Birth chip shows no brain activity. Heart stopped. She’s gone.”

Alexandra nodded and slid off Rose, bending down to kiss her lips and gently close her eyes. “Thank you for contributing to a better tomorrow,” she whispered. “I hope this was all you ever wanted.”

She leaned back against the wall of the slaughter room, closing her eyes and taking deep, slow breaths to calm herself. She needed to get her head back together, to distance herself from what she had just shared with Rose. She always enjoyed the games, the connection, the closeness, the submission—until it was time to kill the woman. That part was the hardest.

She was a Butcher. It was her job to kill, to slaughter. But for Alexandra, there was a difference. To slaughter them quickly and painlessly was a kindness, a service. But making their dream come true, killing them the way they wanted? That was different. It required something else. You had to be part of their experience. Lower your defences. Make love to them through pain. And then take their life.

“Okay, Melissa,” Alexandra said, her voice still shaky. “You butcher her. I’ll supervise. You know what you are doing.” She glanced at Rose’s lifeless body, her expression softening for a moment. “She wanted her ass and tits to go to her family. Pack her cunt, too. She earned it.”

Before Melissa could grab the knife, there was a knock at the door, and Helena walked in, Silvia trailing behind her. Helena looked emotionally drained, her shoulders low. Silvia was quiet, deep in thought.

“How did it go?” Helena asked softly.

Alexandra didn’t answer. She stepped forward and walked straight into Helena’s arms. She didn’t even try to hold back the tears. The sobs came hard, her body shaking as she clung to her friend.

“So, it was good for Rose,” Helena murmured, stroking Alexandra’s back gently. “Shh, Alex. It’s okay. I know you hate killing them. I know.”

Alexandra’s voice was muffled against Helena’s shoulder. “It was good for her. I made it good. She... she bloomed.”

“I know. You’re amazing at it. There’s nothing like that next week. Just a quick beheading with a bit of roleplay—I’ll handle it,” Helena said, her voice soft but steady as she held her friend close.

“I had a shitty day, too,” Helena continued. She turned her head toward Silvia. “Silvia, assist Melissa. Let’s clean this up and then we all go and get wasted. We’ll help finish butchering her and Jessica tomorrow. We gutted Lisa and Eve. We are doing the rest tomorrow morning.”

Alexandra nodded against Helena’s shoulder, her grip still firm. Helena held her tighter, letting her cry and grieve for the lover she had just lost.

The END

-----From next week on, we will start with "Silvia's Apprenticeship" and have a very close look at the other side of the blade.