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Imagine sitting down in front of your computer, settling into your chair. Comfortable, content... but as you type weblog entries, read email, work your way through the vast dataflow known as the EarthNet, you realize you are starting to get bored.
It is the year 2511, and boredom is easily solved. A few slight eye movements and your screen clears, a muttered command and you dive into the Net, looking for the age-old holy grail.
Rhett, I miss you. I'm... Hmm. I'm going to post this, but I will point out that it's not going to be pretty. I'm writing what I remember of a story someone told me a long time ago. Rewriting, rather, as I know he used the language far better than I.
At any rate, if you are:
A Nice Person
...then just turn around and go elsewhere. Seriously.
*shrug* Your own fault. *clicktaptapclick... lights dim, show begins*
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The camera flickers, changes angles, chasing after the delicate fingers and slender wrist that a moment ago were buried in still-warm flesh. The fingers tighten, curl into a fist, greenish-brown shit oozing from between them. The fist is lifted, opened, and the camera catches the moment all five fingers dive into the mouth they have been raised to.
The camera glides back, taking in the whole picture now, hair and skin streaked with blood, more-than-ample breasts displayed proudly for the watchers, their sheer size seeming to dwarf everything else. The girl's jaw is dislocated, her entire hand stuffed into her mouth while she licks and sucks the foul mix, only removing her fingers when she has swallowed all but the last few clumps. Those she gathers with her tongue, licking at each finger in turn until her mouth is finally full. Her jaw drops just a bit further, lips curved in a huge smile, eyes blank, dazed, seeming near-mindless as she drools and thus decorates her breasts with the mix of blood, shit, and saliva. Suddenly she coughs once, twice, and with a third hacking breath she spits out a tiny, delicate bit of glittering stone, still attached to a chunk of the ear it had started out on. The gem tumbles down, lost in the filthy stew that the table has become.
The girl leaned over, two fingers jammed up her throat, triggering her gag reflex. As quickly as possible she emptied her stomach of the filth that she'd eaten, vomiting the filthy stuff into the now-hollow chest of the dead bitch on the floor. When the coughs turned to dry heaves she rose quickly, already moving by the time the order to return to her pen was given.
The courtyard within the mock castle was quickly left behind, one of many sets, the lofty towers and fluttering banners quickly obscured by railway trains, honeycomb prison towers, tall cityscapes, and taller trees. Eventually all of that faded, left behind as she and more than a hundred of her littermates were transported back to their holding area.
The transfer car was quiet, no conversation, no friendly chatter, nothing but the occasional cough. Even the sound of so many mouths breathing was kept muffled. The girl stood in her assigned spot, packed tightly with the rest of her litter.
These moments, she stealthily treasured; contact, feeling others around her who would not kill her at the moment, seeing herself lost in the press of girlflesh until the massive breasts were almost invisible. As she often did, she ran her hands across the overlarge tits, feeling them sway and slosh. Fingers still darkened with smears of blood traced the edge of scarred, stretched nipples, filthy arms lifted equally filthy orbs enough to ease their weight on her shoulders, then released them again. She had managed to stay conscious for every portion of the procedures needed. When she overheard one of Them say that out of twenty sluts, only she performed so well, screaming through the entire thing, it was as close to pride as she ever came. It earned her nothing beyond another day to continue breathing, continue serving, and still she clung to it.
The surgeries had taken more than two months to complete; most of her original littermates were dead by the end of the first month, as expected. The videos made from each medical procedure sold well enough that she had been allowed to continue breathing, well enough that she would likely end up in the Under. Like the other girls in every litter she had begun her pitiful existance Underneath, gestation and development spun into furious motion, technology producing new, viable meat to replace those who had died that day.
She had been put with this new litter, ate with them, slept with them, worked with them... cleaned them, fucked them, killed them... still, she felt oddly alone. Her huge breasts and her age set her apart, made her even less comfortable. It was only in the tight-packed press of sweaty, filthy, battered bodies that she felt safe.
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