[Erenisch] Novella.

[xxfluffydeathxx]

Journey (Special issue: 33)​

“Miss Braucht! There you are!”

“Oh, hello again. How nice of you to visit me. But pleeeease, call me Elsa.”

“Sure, Elsa. We just went to the tasting-stalls to see you finish your… experience, and they sent us here.”

“Yes. I guess I lack the resilience these cowgirls have. These girls, they prepare for this all their lives, after all. They told me that I passed out during a particularly violent spitroast. I woke up here, in this Fem-Vet tent, only ten minutes ago.”

“I see. Sorry to hear that. How are you feeling now?”

“A bit sore, but quite re-energized. The doctor here gave me a strong rejuv-cocktail.”

“I thought these Fem-Vets weren’t real doctors.”

“Some of them are. They don’t need to be, though. I think it’s a two-year certificate program. Have you been to a Fem-Vet clinic before?”

“Yes, actually, I had the intense displeasure… I’m sure you had done a piece on Fem-Vets already, worked as a nurse for a day or something?”

“Oh my god! Nooo, but now I’ll definitely do it.”

“I was going to offer to buy you a coffee. Perhaps get you away from this madness for a brief respite? Miss Svinina recommended this no-sex cafe at the edge of town. You see, she was raised as a pampered daddy's princess, so she knows all the places you’re less likely to be raped at around here.”

“Sure, I’d love to talk to you more. You know, I might look cool and calm because of all the drugs circulating in my system right now, but in my head, I'm just an silly fangirl screaming constantly. I still cannot believe that the great Nora Jasiri is sitting next to me.”

“Ha-ha! You are too kind. I think what you do here is a lot more impressive. Given the world you live in, this oppressive, fasc-“

“Perhaps we can talk while we walk. This cafe you mentioned earlier, is it too far?”

“Oh. Just a few minutes from here, I’m told. You want to walk? You seem tired, and we have a car waiting for us.”

“I’d like to walk. I spent the better part of the day on my hands and knees, so…”

“Right. Okay, let’s walk then… Um… You want to put on something?”

“No, I’m fine like this. I just need my shoes… You know, in Pussiana, you’re a lot safer when you wear nothing. It’s a statistical fact. When you’re naked, men rarely look at you twice, and even if they do, they are likely to assume that you’re owned or reserved by another man.”

“I see. Naked means taken, huh?”

“Exactly. So… Maybe you want to get out of those clothes and join me?”

“Ah-hah! No, thank you. I think I’ll not attempt to blend in perfectly this evening.”

“No problem. Your giant friend over there will definitely deter unwanted attention anyway. I watched you guys from my stall for a while while you were talking to the customers. He seemed constantly alert and ready to jump in to protect you.”

“Yes, I always feel safe around Marcel. He saved me from very tricky situations more times than I can remember.”

“Uh-huh. And now he kinda wants to save that cute blonde who follows you around too.”

“Melody… That’s exactly right… You are very smart, aren’t you? Took a short glance at us and figured it out immediately.”

“Thank you very much. I might be wittier than I let people know, but it’s not really hard to guess. Three people working together in close quarters, their relationship inevitably devolves into an episode of “Harry’s Harem.”

“A popular TV show, I presume.”

“Popular? It’s only the best r-com ever. I appeared in an episode in its second season for about four seconds. I was cocksucker number five.”

“Another ‘on the road’ episode?”

“No-no, This was back when I first came to Pussiana as a journalism student. They were filming near the campus. I saw the casting call poster, sneaked into the set, and started sucking random cocks without even introducing myself.”

“That’s so… you know, not a short time ago, that story would have shocked me, Elsa. But after spending some time in this place, I think it was relatively… It kinda sounds normal, I’m afraid to admit.”

“Right. Coming from a pre-slavery country, you would find it hard to talk about topics like sex and gender, I guess.”

“Oh, I can talk about sex and gender all day, believe me.”

“Yeah? Perhaps not in the same way we do. We are kinda… what’s the word, ‘unburdened’ from an outdated sense of morality and decency.”

“Outdated sense of morality? I hope you’re not going to start quoting Agata Matryschek to me.”

“Oh my god! You interviewed her too, haven’t you?”

“Yes, we had… an interesting exchange of ideas… and fluids.”

“No! Don’t tell me you fucked the one and only Mother Matryschek!”

“Hush! Not so loud. My companions don’t know about that part.”

“Oh, they probably figured it out already, to be honest… But now you must fuck me too. I want to be able to tell the story about how I fucked a woman who fucked Agata Matryschek.”

“Ah-hah! Let’s see how our first date goes, eh?”

“Oh, I can be very convincing, believe me. You’ll not be able to fend off my advances at the end of the night.”

“I believe you. You have that rare disarming charm. You’re very intelligent too. A winning combination in our line of work, of course.”

“Thank you, Nora. It means a lot coming from you. Out here you have to be jovial and starry-eyed constantly. You cannot be caught with a stern expression.”

“I get it. I do look like a mean bitch most of the time, but I can turn on the charm when I need to.”

“I know you can. I remember your Bima Bangang interview. That moron thought you were flirting with him the entire time.”

“Ha-ha! Yes, yes, he did. Marcel often jokes that the man would have proposed to me had I stayed for another day at their camp. Luckily I was already on a flight back to SSC when the interview aired.”

“Sub-Saharan Confederacy?”

“Yes. Have you ever been?”

“No, never had the pleasure. It’s virtually impossible for a woman to leave the Androcratic bloc, even for celebrities like myself. They sometimes make exceptions for nominally non-aligned countries with a positive attitude towards FNA ideology. So far the only pre-slavery country I travelled to is Coşmaria, but I was surrounded by an insane number of “bodyguards” during my time there. All I was allowed to do was visit a movie set. A promo thing, you know? They managed to get me extraordinary travel papers because a couple of well-connected Pussianan investors were backing that movie. I also interviewed Ioana Curvaşcu and István Szolga. You know them?

“I’ve heard their names. I’m afraid I’m not into that whore-ror genre. I’ve seen a movie by Sophie Catin at a foreign film festival a few years ago. Didn’t like it at all.”

“Oooh, Sophie Catin! Was it ‘Pour le Poing et la Fleche?”

“No. That’s a political propaganda movie they pressured her into making right before her disappearance, right? The one I saw was an earlier indie flick she appeared in. It was one of those rape-revenge movies.”

“Got it. It must be ‘Jambes écartées.’ She runs a guy over with her car while passing through a small town. The entire town rapes her in revenge.”

“My god, no. It was nothing like that.”

“Oh, then it must be-”

“I’ll stop you there, Elsa. Maybe we’ll continue this guessing game later?

“Sure. So what kind of movies do you like?”

“It’ll sound lame, but I like period dramas. Mostly classics from 90s and early 2000s.

“Right. We don’t have them here. No artworks or literature produced before the revolution. Either destroyed or locked away, all of them.”

“I heard. But you managed to smuggle in my interviews, right? I’m sure you got your hands on a few pieces of pre-revolutionary media too?”

“…..”

“Maybe… Maybe I’m wrong?”

“I wouldn’t even think about committing such a foul crime, sister. That’s a capital offense for females.”

“Of course. Forgive my presumption.”

“No problem. Here we are. Is this the cafe you mentioned?”

“It must be. Says ‘no public female utilization” on the window. But that just means that they have private rooms at the back, right?

“As ordained by law, yes. I’m not sure if they abide by health ministry regulations up here in the north, though. The general perception among the public is that this region is rather backwards and lawless. The government granted a ton of legal exceptions to the so-called ‘broad-basket’ of the country back in the mid-20s to replenish national female stock. The men out here are allowed to marry multiple ‘wives’ to breed, for example. They don’t pay taxes for their slave-wives, and their rape-age daughters can stay free for up to two years, or until they’re sold. No permit fee required.”

“That’s very interesting. My host mentioned none of that. Instead he seems to prefer demonstrating his daughters' skills in throating fat dicks.”

“Master Svinin? I heard his name mentioned a few times. I felt like Master Cerdo wasn’t particularly fond of him.”

“I can guess why. Keep it between us, but I uncovered a secret love affair between their daughters.”

“Really? One of them is Abby Lynn, right? That’s why you asked about her earlier.”

“Right again. Mum’s the word, okay?

"Of course. Shall we sit over there?”

“Perfect.”

“Welcome to Moo-Crew, ladies. I’m Francine, and I’ll be your milkmaid tonight. What can I get you?”

“Hi Francine.”

“Um… Nora, you promised me coffee... but can I suggest something else, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure, what would you like us to have instead?

“Nights like these… when in good company… I like to have a glass of ‘Le Jus de Vierge’ or two.”

“…..”

“Oooor we can have coffee like you wanted. It’s all fine.”

“You know what? Sure. ‘Le Jus de Vierge’ it is. Let’s open a bottle, eh?”

 

[xxfluffydeathxx]

The Operation - 40​

“Chatter analysis. Fresh from the oven.”

Tamer held a bundle of printouts aloft for the group to see and dropped it in front of Lidia. She paused for a moment, finished chewing the last piece of her sandwich, then pulled the papers to examine.

“These are the most frequently used keywords and names our pals back home picked up in Pussianan military chatter after Martin’s ‘rescue mission.’

Lidia nodded. The list looked long and confusing, and nothing made sense at first glance, but she tried her best not to look completely clueless.

“You’re looking at the raw data,” explained the commander. “On the next page, you’ll find a shorter list the analysts find relevant to our mission. They eliminated the stuff we already know, leaving the names and keywords that popped up recently. You’ll see some clusters and connections between different groupings. I know it’s a lot. Take your time, see if you can find any-”

“Here!” exclaimed Lidia. “Found ‘em!”

“Found ‘em? Please, explain.”

“This cluster. I recognize two of the names. Yes, it makes perfect sense.” She looked at Tamer with excitement. “Anders. Master-Agent Anders, and special officer Minerva McKluge.”

“Anders? He was her handler,” remarked Katalin and turned on the Haimdaller device to bring up information about him.

“No, he’s not important,” said Lidia. “I mean, he’s just a field officer. A runnerhound. The fact that his name appears in high-level chatter shows that this group is probably tasked with pursuing me… us. I think we're certain that they now know that I’m travelling with a bunch of foreign spies, right?”

Tamer nodded. “Can it be a coincidence? He might be involved in an unrelated case. Or perhaps this is an entirely different Anders?”

Lidia dismissed his words with a hurried hand wave. “Forget about him. The other name is the important part. Minerva McKluge! I know her. She’s a high-ranking intelligence officer. She might be the only female who managed to get in that special boy’s club, actually. Can you imagine how hard it is to do that? A genius, they call her.”

“Is she Section Eight?”

“No, she’s not Anthill. She’s Hive. One of Nagel’s protégés.”

“What about the other names in that cluster?” asked Tamer. “Grant, Viltis, Helen, HSCD…”

Lidia pursed her lips and shook her head. “The abbreviation. Ends in CD. Most definitely a ‘cunt depository,’ but I’m not familiar with this particular facility. The names... don’t ring a bell.”

“Bingo!” smiled Katalin and showed the satellite map on her screen. “Our unconfirmed intel marked this location as High Security Cunt Depository a while ago. Only a couple blocks away from where Lidia identified as a military hospital yesterday.”

“Did we just find her? Just like that?” commented Ktinodis. “It cannot be that simple, right?”

“Look up the other names,” said Lidia. The rise of excitement among the group was palpable.


* * *


Master-Agent Kurtz turned his head lazily and looked at the new arrivals at the door.

“Ah! Singer. Finally. I was starting to wonder. Here to relieve me?”

“I think that’s your new brunette’s job, old man,” Singer snickered. He gave his colleague a friendly tap on his shoulder and winked at A-S Peachbitch. The slavecop nodded respectfully as she continued to slowsuck her handler’s cock. The other collapsed on the chair next to Kurtz and opened his legs. His own ayass Firelips quickly assumed the position and began serving him.

“So,” the other exhaled, “Finally back among us mortals, eh? How was your rotation at the Hive?”

“It was fine in the beginning. For the first few months I did routine Cunthound patrols between Banghaven and Bitcham. That’s the best gig ever, I tell you. Virtually no runners there. It’s like a paid vacation. I’d put the CH on autopilot and let Firelips work her magic all day. During my three months I picked up only one runner. One. Single. And she wasn’t even a slave. Just a young bride getting cold feet. But after that… they assigned me to Department 102.”

“Whoa! The infamous interrogation department? I thought you needed special training for that kind of thing?”

“No, you old fool! That’s Department 101 you're thinking of. I was sent to 102, which is tasked with cleaning after those fucking monsters. Literally, they’d rape and torture fluffers for days and weeks and then drop them down a chute that led to our cunt depository. Half of our team was Fem-vet contractors. Their job was to keep those poor wretches alive, and ours was to secure the survivors and place them in proper containment.”

“Dealing with fluffers all day, every day, eh? I’m sure you raped your share of those ungrateful bitches while you were there. Why are you complaining now?”

“Naah! It’s not all fun and rapes over there, man. It was real hard work, you know? Especially after they launched the ragdolling program.”

“Ah yes, I heard about that. Ragdolling. Not sure what that means exactly. Those yellow boxes, right?”

“Yellow boxes? Hah-hah! Yeah, that was it.” He leaned forward and slapped the panel in front of him. A few of the blank screens came alive and started to show live security feed from around the facility. “I cannot believe this fucking thing is still malfunctioning,” he snickered. “Exactly the way I left it six months ago.”

“You know how it is,” the other replied. “This is a joint operation between the SEFR and the fucking military. It’s the worst kind of bureaucratic nightmare. When there’s something needs fixed, they pass the buck endlessly. Nobody knows who’s in charge most of the time.”

“They seem to get along fine here.” Silver pointed at a screen that showed the main mess hall, where SEFR officers and soldiers were gangraping a group of young women tied spreadeagled to the tables. “Who are they messing up? Detainees?”

“Probably. They aren’t supposed to take fuckmeat out of their storage after hours, but you know how it works. Just don’t run a pointed Heimdaller scan if you notice such ‘extracurricular activity’ around here.”

“Sure, I know the drill. So, they fully integrated the all-seeing eye in the system here when I was away, eh? Can this piece of shit run such sophisticated software?”

“Ah-hah. Yeah. Check this out.” Kurtz slapped his girl to stop her and placed his ID card in the access slot. An extra screen rose out of the panel. “Take a look at the cells. Anyone you like?”

Singer turned his attention to the multitudes of smaller screens to his left that showed cells with bound women in them. Most of them were between rapes, sleeping or resting, but several were being ‘interrogated’ vigorously. “How about this one?”

“Nice.” Kurtz pressed a few buttons to run a scan in that specific room. The camera zoomed in to the young blonde woman being ruthlessly spitroasted by two burly men in military uniform. Her entire body was covered in purplish bruises, reddened stripes, and burn marks left by the electroshock batons soldiers loved to use liberally. Her primary and tertiary holes were stretched to the limit by big fat dicks. She seemed exhausted and barely conscious. The men kept waking her up with a series of slaps whenever she was about to pass out.

It took the recog software a second to determine the identity of the prisoner. Kurtz removed his glasses and squinted to read the result. “Harriette Olsen, 19.11 years-old A-grade bareneck, nursing student, detained for distributing subversive propaganda material a week ago. Court date set in… two months.”

“Ah!” singer exclaimed. “It’s a swan. Look at her age.”

Kurtz looked at his younger colleague with a puzzled expression, which prompted the other to explain. “You know, swans? That’s what kids these days call a freewoman close to her freedom permit expiration date. I think it comes from the expression ‘swan’s song.’ Anyway. Here’s what they do. They stalk these swans and kidnap them before they could have a chance to buy an extension. They keep them in a basement for a while and register them as slaves once their permit expires. Cheap slaves… sometimes completely free if they don’t have a CMR.”

“I know the practice, sure,” nodded the older guard. “One of my meat-headed cousins enslaves a new cunt every six months using that tactic. But this is the military. Why would they do that? These fuckers have an ‘extraordinary female confiscation licence' anyway. It overrides all permits when it’s classified as a national security issue. They just need to say that she's a terrorist sympatizer, or simply engages in subversiv-… Ooh, now I see.”

“Yeah,” the other chuckled. “You’re right though. It makes little sense. This is the HSCD. You don’t bring the neighborhood tease here. It’s almost all top-rank fluffers and miscellaneous high-profile pussy.”

“Who cares,” the old man said and leaned back. A-S Peachbitch immediately adjusted her posture to his new position and resumed the slowsuck. The two men enjoyed the ongoing rapes on their screens in silence for a while. Eventually Kurtz signalled his slavecop to pick up the pace and ejaculated in her mouth. She swallowed and sat back on her heels.”

“Anyway,” he said and stood up clumsily. “My shift ended almost ten minutes ago. I’m officially handing it over without incident. Enjoy.”

“Thanks a lot. So, any plans tonight?”

“Hell no. As you can see, I’m an old man, my boy. I’ll return this cunt to her shelf and head home.” He gave his colleague a sarcastic military salute and left with his ayass in tow. Singer waved him out and then slapped the panel again to give the ageing security system another jolt. A couple of the screens remained blank, but this time he didn’t care at all. He leaned back and relaxed with his dick in A-S Firelips’s skilled mouth. A few minutes later, he was sound asleep in his chair.

He jumped out of his nap after who knows how long, when the door slammed shut. Firelips was idling in the corner in basic kneeling position. An officer in PMP uniform was looking at him with a stern expression, with his sidecunt standing behind him. He was surprised to see military police barging into a SEFR office like that. Everyone in the security forces despised and feared the 'pumpers,' even if they weren't in the army.

“Agent Singer,” the officer read from the card he was holding. Singer realized that it was his own system access tag. “Sleeping on duty, losing your access card… Are you a total idiot?”

“Sorry… I was…” the man stammered and stood up. He attempted to take his access badge back, but the other pulled it out of his reach.

“I wonder what else you fucked up, Singer?” he pointed to the kneeling slavecop without looking at her. “You brought your ayass here, so I’ll assume that you followed the regulation and took the proper anti-GPAC dose ?”

“I… There was no need,” he said guiltily. “This is just a stupid nightwatchman duty. It’s not like we’re going out for CH patrol. My girl is loyal, and she isn’t even armed. Why would I need anti-GPAC?”

“Good.” The officer drew his tranq gun and shot Singer in the neck. His sidecunt did the same and shot Firelips before she could realize what happened. The slavecop slumped and fell on her side. Singer froze for a few seconds on his feet, then collapsed backwards like a crumbling tower.

“That will teach you to follow the rules, asshole,” snickered the girl and holstered her weapon. Tamer turned and raised an eyebrow. Katalin’s smile widened. She pointed to the communicator in her ear. “Don’t judge me, dear. I’m just repeating what our good friend back home said.”

Tamer pursed his lips and tapped on his own earpiece. The first thing he heard was Lidia laughing aloud back in their Old Hickory hideout. “Alright, good friend,” he said sarcastically. “We’re in. Now focus on the task and help us navigate, will you?” He handed Katalin the card he took from the guard. She placed it in the slot to take control of the system panel.

“What are we looking for?”

“Can you locate any members of the cluster? Grant, Viltis, Helen, McKluge, Anders.”

Katalin started to tap the keywords in the system and launched Heimdaller bots to scan the available security feeds and logs.

“There is no Grant in the system. An Agent Viltis was here about 4 hours ago. He stayed in the facility for a while… between 7:56 and 11:21. Agent-freewoman McKluge arrived with him, and… wait… She is still here! Sub-level 2.” She tapped a few buttons to find visual confirmation. Her face brightened suddenly.

“You found her?” asked Lidia. “You cannot miss her. She must be the one in the cool suit with a tit-window. Hey, what color is her hair nowadays?”

“No,” smiled Katalin. “She is in a black-box right now. No cameras in there.” She turned to Tamer and put her finger on the screen victoriously. “She is in that room labelled as ‘Helen.’ It’s our target. I’m sure of it. She’s here, in this building. Two levels below us.”

 

[xxfluffydeathxx]

The Operation - 41​

“Thank you, Miss.”

“No, thank you.” Minerva pushed the ‘happiness’ slider all the way up on Ayla’s remote control, then closed her legs and adjusted her skirt. Her well-licked pussy was still contracting. She loved her daily sessions with Ayla so much.

With her implant activated, the young dancer moaned aloud and exhaled in the sexiest way Minerva had ever seen. In spite of the constant rape and torture she was subjected to, she was still exceptionally beautiful and full of life. Every time Minerva visited this horrible place and opened that vault door, she was struck by the beauty she found behind it. It was always a surprise too. Sometimes she was welcomed by a blushing, cum-covered, well-raped mess on the floor, and sometimes she found her pale slender body covered in mean welts and bruises, lying unconscious on a flogging bench.

And she was never not incredibly attractive.

Of course, she was always tied up in some way. At this stage of her training, she no longer needed restraints, but even Minerva admitted that she just looked better in them.

The captive sat on her heels and waited silently while Minerva’s respiration rate slowly turned to normal. She looked uneasy for a moment, her lips trembling. Noticing her anxiety, the intelligence officer checked the remote to see if the slider was still on “happy.”

“You want to say something? You may.”

“T-thank you, Miss.” The young woman’s lips opened and closed, trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Take your time,” smiled Minerva.

The other swallowed and took a deep breath. She straightened her body, exhaled and looked into the agent’s eyes.

“I love you… I… This cunt, this cunt loves you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are the most beautiful woman ever. And you’re so good to me. I… I miss you all the time. I cannot stand it when you leave. I love you.”

“Oh dear lord!” exclaimed Minerva. “We met only a few days ago.” She looked at the remote and hurriedly pulled the slider back to the neutral ‘resting mode.’ “You are not in love with me. I’m here only to observe you. I’m almost as bad as all those assholes who regularly rape and torture you. It’s just… this horrible thing in your brain… It makes you believe… Oh my! This is incredible.” She put the remote down and leaned forward to place her palms on the kneeling slavegirl’s blushing cheeks. “You associate me with happiness and relief. I keep flooding your brain with endorphins, oxytocin, all that stuff that helps you emotionally bond with people. It messes up your brain chemistry, you understand?”

The brunette’s lips started trembling, and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t… I just know that I love you… more than anything.”

“Minerva sighed and leaned back. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Goldenwhore,” she managed to say.

A long, uneasy silence followed. Minerva remained frozen in her chair, unable to avert her gaze from Ayla’s hurt puppy eyes and trembling lips. She felt a strong urge to grab the remote and make the girl artificially happy again, but the scientist in her wouldn’t let her ruin the well-crafted routine.

Ayla managed to calm down after a while. “May this cunt ask… what’s your name?”

“Minerva,” the agent replied without missing a beat. “Minerva Mc Kluge… Minnie… if you…” She stopped. Nobody called her Minnie except her late parents. What made her divulge that precious information she kept to herself all those years? Guilt?

“Miss McKluge,” the other smiled with teary eyes. “This cunt is sorry for that stupid… love thing… Please ignore it. Please, don’t stop visiting… This cunt is so sorry.”

“No-no, don’t worry about it,” the agent reassured. “I won’t. It’s my job to…” She stopped again.

Another long silence. The two women remained in an awkward but inescapable eye-contact without saying anything.

A knock on the door made them jump out of their trance. “Agent-freewoman McKluge?”

Agent-freewoman? Nobody says that. Perhaps a weirdo with an obsession to follow the regulations to the latter. “Who’s this?” Minerva asked, checking her watch. “It’s still her interrape time. I’m not letting you in. You aren’t utilizing her for another 23 minutes.”

The lock beeped and the door opened. Only a high ranking officer’s access card could override the lock code minerva punched in. “I’m Agent Clarkson,” said the man in all black military police uniform. “We’re with the PMP. There was a security breach. We are here to transfer the prisoner to another facility.” He entered the cell and stepped aside to let a shorter, more muscular man with a duffel bag in. A PMP-sidecunt stood at the threshold with arms boxed at her back.

“What other facility?” asked Minerva. “I wasn’t informed about this. Where is Agent Viltis?”

“The location is not disclosed yet, Agent-freewoman. Agent Viltis’s Cunthound is on its way to the secured facility right now,” said the young woman at the door in a northern accent, and pointed at the communicator in her ear. “This cunt is in constant contact with his navigator. We are going to follow the instructions and meet him there.”

“His Cunthound?” Minerva asked calmly. “He is flying to this secret location?”

“Yes miss.”

Minerva took a deep breath and and casually scanned their faces and weapons.

“I’ll be coming with you, of course.”

“As you wish,” the first man replied with a phony, barely noticeable smile and nodded to the other officer. “Agent Gunn will secure the package.” The stocky man put his duffel bag down, took out a female carrying kit and spread it on the floor. Aside from the high tech AFT-prevention gadgets attached to it, it looked like a standard body bag.

“Goldenwhore,” she said, before the man made his move to grab the trembling young woman still kneeling in the middle of the cell. “Follow the officers’ instructions and get in the carrier. There is nothing to be scared of.”

“Yes Miss.” The slave crawled towards the officer, lay down in the bag and let him zip it up. He lifted the bag like it weighed nothing and put her over his shoulder without saying anything.

“Very well,” Clarkson said, and gestured towards the tall woman at the door. “Please follow Sidecunt Pinklips to our vehicle.”

The brunette sidecunt turned around on her heels and set off down the hallway. Minerva followed. She quickly scanned the place. Not a single personnel in sight. The special containment section that housed ‘Project Helen’ never had a lot of foot traffic, of course, but this was exceptionally quiet.

“Why aren’t we taking the elevator?” she asked when the sidecunt opened the door to the staircase

“Out of order, ma’am.”

“All four of them?”

“Must be a system-wide issue.”

“I see.” The alarm button in the elevator cabin was now out of the question. Minerva tried to remember if there was an alarm panel on the path she was being led along. Her brain was working at full speed, but not efficiently enough. It was the pressure. This was the first time in her life she was in a real life-or-death situation.

She was ninety-nine percent certain that these three were the spies they had been looking for. Their appearances fit the blurry images FTZ camera took and the description Nagel provided before he fell into a coma. And of course, all the little mistakes they made in the past few minutes supported her initial suspicion.

She just couldn’t believe that they were able to locate and infiltrate Project Helen this quickly and easily. A secret high-security SEFR/Army facility? What a joke!

She followed. Her companions seemed to know the exact path to avoid com-terminals and guard locations. The fact that they didn’t come across a single person was incredible. They must have studied the schedules perfectly… or alternatively, removed all the possible obstacles beforehand. The thought made her shiver. She estimated that at least a dozen highly-trained personnel had to be eliminated in some way, quietly, without triggering scans or alarms… Unless… They must have taken control of the systems in the first place, and that means… She shook her head to get rid of the internal movie her brain automatically started to piece together. How they got in wasn’t her priority at that moment. She had to figure out a way to alert security without getting shot by the goons walking behind him.

“Aren’t we going to inform the base commander?” she asked as calmly as possible.

“He was informed,” the girl replied. “He was kind enough to pull base security out of our way too.”

Minerva nodded. As they approached another intersection, she heard a faint moaning in the distance. Screams and male laughter too. Multiple women being gangraped, possibly in the mess hall. If she could hear them, they could hear her, perhaps. It was still risky. She could run and hope that their aim was bad. It was highly unlikely of course. Spies good enough to end up here would be more than capable of tagging her with a tranq-dart in the butt, or perhaps with a real bullet in the back of the head.

She had to calculate quickly. If they managed to take her out of this place, her chances of survival would diminish considerably. She wasn’t their target, only a hostage. Her value, if any, was time-and location-dependent. The only reason they didn’t immediately kill her back in the cell was the slight chance that she could be useful on their way out. She was just a “familiar face” to put guards at ease, or open a few doors if they had to improvise for some reason. Once they were out, she’d be dead weight. She’d most likely end up in a ditch hours later, if not immediately.

The choice was clear. Foil their plan somehow, run and hide if possible, alert those uniformed meatheads she despised so much and let them deal with the problem. This intersection was possibly her last chance for her to do so. She could dive in the first room she can find and blockade it, and then…

Her muscles contracted. Her respiration quickened. She wasn’t a real field agent. She lacked the athleticism her comrades in blue-and-white shared. But she wasn’t a delicate flower either. She tried to calm her self down. They were almost there.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

“Hmm?”
The sidecunt stopped and turned to face her. She effectively blocked Minerva’s escape path towards the intersection by doing so. The sidestep didn’t seem deliberate, but Minerva immediately knew that it was meant to preempt her half-baked escape plan. She exhaled in desperation, barely managing to maintain her cool.

“You look pale, and your breathing is irregular. Would you like to take a moment?”

“Thank you for concern, sidecunt Pinklips,” Minerva smiled. “Pinklips. Pink-lips.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“That’s an unusual servonym. Makes me think that you were named by an affectionate lover, and not an army confiscation officer.” She turned around and looked at the two men, her gaze focusing on Clarkson’s stern face before turning back to the sidecunt.

The brunette opened her mouth to respond, but froze as if a voice in her head stopped her. She paused for a long moment, then dropped her chin and exhaled. She took the com-link out of her ear and presented it to Minerva.

“Our navigator wants to talk to you.”

Minerva took the device and placed it in her own ear.

“Hello Cumgulper. It’s been a while.”

 

[xxfluffydeathxx]

The Operation - 42​

“First of all, I want to say, I was glad to learn that you survived.”

“Thank you Agent McKluge,” replied Lidia. “Likewise.”

“Oh, I wasn’t at the Hive when the… ‘gas explosion’ occurred. Nagel took me to a meeting at the High-Council. He was raping me at the cafeteria when he got the news.”

“I see. I didn't know he regularized you. In that case, you’re welcome.”

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “You? Personally?” She looked at Clarkson again. He remained motionless. Minerva took it as affirmation. “Well, at this point, any additional crimes you commit will have little impact on the extraordinarily heavy punishment you’ve accrued anyway... I guess It’s good that you got it out of your system.”

She paused for a moment. “And… Thank you, Ayass Cumgulper.”

“You can call me Lidia,” the other replied softly.

“Of course, Lidia, I apologize. Old habits die hard, don’t they?”

“Listen,” interjected the ex-slavecop. “I know you. I know that you have already done the calculations and decided on a course of action based on the information available to you. And that’s the problem. The information available to you is fatally insufficient. I’ll do my best to add to it, so you can make a better, well-informed decision.”

“I’m listening,” said the intelligence officer nervously.

“You think that my friends over there will summarily execute you once they leave the facility. I assure you. They will not. I have shared everything I know about you with them before the mission, and I was able to convince them that you’re a very valuable asset. They were very impressed by your background, that algorithm of yours... In fact, you're now more valuable than that dancer in the bag. They're fully prepared to execute her if extracting her alive is not possible. It was their mission from the beginning. But you, they need you alive. They want to take you home, Minerva.”

Minerva turned to Clarkson again to see his affirmative nod. She was now sure that he was the leader of the team.

“I implore you, Minerva. Cooperate with my new friends over there. I have spent time with them. They are good people. They want you to have what you want.”

“What’s that, Lidia? What do I want?”

“Freedom…” Lidia paused for a long moment and listened to the intelligence officer’s breathing. “... redemption… and revenge,” she added.

Minerva didn’t respond.

“You know what you want more than I do. You spent your entire life to keep your neck bare. And you know, deep down, you know that it's a mission doomed to fail. As SEFR officers, we've seen how things work in the real world. Failure is inevitable no matter how clever your strategy is, no matter what you do to appease men... If you stay and follow the rules, you’ll end up in a cage. But there is another way. One you never considered a possibility. I bet your algorithm doesn't even take such exogenous factors into account. This mission renders your model obsolete, Minerva. You can just throw it away. You can simply come with us and remain a bareneck till the end of your life. Hell, the word ‘bareneck’ doesn’t even have any meaning over there.”

Minerva took a deep breath. She felt like her brain was overheating.

“I had a taste of freedom, and I’ll do my best to feel it again,” continued the ex-slavecop on the other end. “It’s… it’s intoxicating.”

“Some of us prefer to stay sober,” mumbled Minerva. “But… I understand. I will… I will not do anything rash. I promise.” She turned to Clarkson.

He nodded and pointed ahead. “Please. We wasted enough time, Agent-freewoman McKluge.”

“Nobody says Agent-freewoman,” said Minerva and set off towards the direction he showed. “I knew something was off the moment you knocked on the door.”

“Thank you Agent,” the man responded robotically. “I appreciate the feedback.”

In spite of her genuine promise to cooperate, Minerva noticed that the brunette stayed between her and her possible escape route until they fully cleared the intersection.

“You’re a perfect S-grade,” she said without looking at the young woman. “Your accent is very good too. Makes me wonder. Are you a Pussianan turncoat, or an Ottohun specifically bred to impersonate one?”

“Bred to impersonate a Pussianan?” the girl chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m-”

“Sidecunt Pinklips is a very private person,” Clarkson interrupted before she could divulge any information. “Nobody in the outfit knows much about her.”

Minerva smiled nervously. The notion of a slavegirl being a ‘private person’ was amusing enough to cut through the intense stress she was feeling. Of course, this gorgeous brunette wasn’t a slave at all.


* * *


“Thank you for everything, Master-Agent Viltis, Sir. It was a great honor to serve with you. This cunt highly benefited from the experience.”

Bouncytits stood in the middle of the room in perfect posture, waiting to be relieved from her duty by the man sitting behind the desk. He ignored her, apparently lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the file he was holding. He turned to her after a few seconds and smiled in his signature ambiguous manner. The smile was certainly fake, as usual, but the meaning it conveyed was not clear to the redhead. She never had a good sense of the man even after closely serving him as a de-facto sexretary-slash-guard for the past few weeks. He was a strange sort. He was the only superior who had never utilized her, and yet, the one who made her nervous the most.

The redhead was scared out of her mind when she was first assigned to this temporary post after the attack. She knew nothing about this guy from the "province." He was a rising star, thanks to his recent success in a high profile case. The details of said case was well above a simple slavecop's clearance level, but she was able to piece together from hints and double talk that it was some kind of data breach, a BFA asset turning rogue and running wild, a betrayal.

Another betrayal!

Her shock was immesuarable when she heard about the intel about Lidia. At first, she was relieved to hear that her good friend and long-time comrade survived the blast and subsequent executions, of course. But then the team learned that she was helping the fluffers all this time, and now running with these foreign spies they were after.

Lidia, a turncoat? It was absolutely unbelievable. Bouncie wondered if her comrade was compromised before the attack. Perhaps she was responsible for it, even. No, that was too outrageous a notion. She assumed that it was simpler than that. Taken as a prisoner, Lidia must have found herself free of her duties and responsibilities to her handler, her comrades, and father Androcracy. Such sudden loss of purpose often pushed good agents to unforeseen extremes.

Obedience and Service! That was their motto. One could not possibly exist in the absence of the other.

“A-S Bouncytits!” Viltis exclaimed as if he just noticed her presence. “So… Our brief but fruitful collaboration comes to an end today. A bummer for sure. I just received the official order for your recall. Little bee going back to the Hive, eh? I understand your handler has made a surprise recovery and now back in uniform?”

“Yes Master-Agent, Sir,” she replied.

“Excited, are we?”

“Yes Master-Agent.”

“Very well. I have already sent a commendation letter to your section chief. I hope you’ll be rewarded properly for the good work you’ve done with us.”

“Thank you Master-Agent Viltis,” she smiled. Her retrieval number was close to another leveling threshold. Perhaps this could earn her another stripe?

“Alright then. Off you go. You can catch the next flying coffin back to Maidenfair if you hurry.”

“Yes Sir,” she said and turned on her heels in a soldierly manner. Just as she was stepping out of the room, her tablet lit up with a notification.

“Uh… you should see this, Master-Agent.” she said, and brought the tablet back to his desk. “This is strange. I don’t think we approved a prisoner transfer… but…”

Viltis grabbed the tablet and looked at the video. It was the isolated direct stream from the HSCD black box where Project Helen was contained. The video showed uniformed military police entering the room and leaving with the dancer a few minutes later. “Get me the base commander on the com,” he commanded sternly, as he hurriedly accessed the external camera feeds to track the group. “I don’t see… They are not in any other feeds. How’s that possible?”

“This footage isn’t live, Master-Agent,” said Bouncytits after taking a glance. “Look.” She put her finger on the screen showing the feed from the cunt containment units. “That’s me in the corner, and this is you talking to the warden. This was taken while we were there. About six hours ago.”

“The HSCD security system is compromised,” Viltis hissed. “Is the moron in charge of that circus on the line yet?

“The commander or his men… none are responding, Master-Agent.”

“Get Hoshiyaar here. Get Anders. Get everyone!” He took a deep breath. “And get me one of those flying coffins... No, a squadron of them!”


(Side note: There are no images created for this chapter due to E~ being on vacation)

 

[xxfluffydeathxx]

The Operation - 43​

“Cunts, with me!”

Gloria Bouncytits jumped out of the Cunthound and ran after Master-Agent Anders towards the HSCD bay. The two rookie bluepuss followed her with nervous feet.

Ayasses Spermswallow and Dumbharlot were fresh graduates of the SEFR Cadet School at Cunton. They were the two candidates Anders was considering as his new sidecunt. He was test-raping them when the alarm rang, so he decided to bring them along.

Two rookies who had never seen action watching her six? Gloria didn’t like it at all.

Of course, those two were no match for an eighter like Lidia. Gloria wasn’t sure if she herself could take her fallen comrade if they came to face to face after all this time. Cumgulper was already one of the best fighters in the entire corps, and it was possible that she learned new techniques not included in SEFR manuals since her supposed “death.” Techniques specifically developed at the “Nest” to counter the bluepuss...

The redhead didn’t want to face Lidia at all. It wasn’t the fear of being unmatched. She just didn’t like the idea of fighting her old comrade, even though she was revealed to be a traitor. She didn’t share the zeal for revenge others like Anders felt. That man definitely took it personally. Gloria, on the other hand, didn’t feel that hurt by Lidia’s shocking betrayal.

Perhaps she wouldn’t have to face her at all. Lidia was not in the isolated black box video footage they had seen. Come to think of it, bringing her along would be a stupid move anyway.

Their task was not easy. For starters, they didn’t know for sure if the spies were still in the facility. The vast roof area of the sprawling compound was virtually one giant landing bay. It had multiple pads and an unmanageable number of access points, and their line of sight was broken by vehicles and equipment scattered around the place. Even though the 11 Cunthounds Viltis could gather in a few minutes covered all the entrances and a couple remained in the air for surveillance, the fugitives still had a great advantage. The military medical facility that housed the HSCD was still very much active. Air ambulances kept coming and going, and medics were running around like busy bees, doing their jobs. The place was a chaotic maze.

They didn’t have enough time to brief the agents, of course. On the short flight here, Bouncie told Anders everything they had seen on the video feed and Viltis’s theory about how the infiltration might have taken place. “You’re positive they were posing as PMP officers?” he asked as he unlocked the heavy access door. She opened her mouth to affirm, but froze when the sun illuminated an imposing figure in military police uniform standing at the other side of the door.

Her momentary befuddlement prompted Anders to turn around. Time came to a screeching halt. Everybody remained motionless for a brief moment, then each reached for their sidearms at the same time. A series of pops were heard. The imposter was slightly quicker than Anders, who was immediately struck by two bullets in the chest and one on his left cheek. The master-agent barely had the chance to fire his gun once before his lifeless body turned, stumbled sideways, and collapsed awkwardly. The other guy was hit in the arm, but merely a graze, it looked like.

Despite her initial shock, Bouncie’s well-trained body automatically sprang into action. She leaped backwards like a startled cat, raised her tranq gun, and pulled the trigger. She didn’t even realize that she was doing the unthinkable, attacking a male. The world slowed down around her. Three darts flew out of the muzzle in slow motion and struck the man in the chest in perfect triangle pattern. The impact made him take a step back to maintain his balance, but he seemed unaffected by the GPAC ampoules instantaneously emptying into his bloodstream.

She was used to seeing her targets collapse within seconds. His time, nothing happened. Gloria swore under her breath. It was immediately obvious that the enemy was immunized by chemical countermeasures, not unlike her handlers at the SEFR. All she had done was give him a mild headache that would go away in a few hours.

Unfazed, the man raised his arm once more to shoot back. Gloria desperately pulled the trigger again, attempting to hit him in the face, but somehow missed the huge man entirely this time. She exhaled in defeat. It was over. A strange, eerie calm gripped her mind. Her muscles surrendered and she braced for the spy’s bullet to end it all.

“No, not her!” A female hand grabbed the man’s arm and pulled it away before he could fire again. Gloria recognized Agent Minerva McKluge’s voice. It was surprising that she wasn’t restrained. She didn’t look like a hostage at all. “Please,” the intelligence officer pleaded calmly, “spare the girls.”

“As you wish.” The man holstered his gun and stepped aside. As he did, a young woman in uniform appeared from behind and fired her own tranq-gun several times without hesitation. Gloria got hit in the neck, stumbled backwards and fell down. Her paralyzed body hit the ground and rolled over like a plastic mannequin. She only remembered about the two rookies behind her when they shared the same fate half a second later. Some help they were.

Gloria was unlucky. She was paralyzed with her eyes open. That meant that she could stay like that for hours if nobody found her, unable to blink. Having tranq-ed her fair share of runners, she knew well what would happen. Her cornea would swell. Her vision would get blurry. It would be painful as hell. Luckily, the three slavecops were lying in front of a medical facility. Surely someone would find them soon.

She watched helplessly as the group jumped over their bodies and rushed towards a Cunthound snugly placed between two army transports. Gloria could read its registration number from where she lay. It was a Randyville code. The vehicle looked real, possibly stolen or commandeered recently. It made sense. It was from the area the task force attempted to lure the spies to with the Harvest Festival trap. Viltis and McKluge assumed that the trap failed because the Ottohuns somehow located and assaulted an unrelated SEFR safehouse two days before the operation, disrupting their plans. Little did they know that it would get a lot worse than the loss of a simple criminal scheduled to be RX-ed.

It was an outstanding failure alright. After all that hard work, these bastards were about to escape and disappear with Project Helen, Lidia, and Minerva. She didn’t even have the chance to alert the rest of the assault party. Anders was most probably dead, and the three already ill-equipped slavecops accompanying him were lying incapacitated. If the Ottohuns made it to the Cunthound and took off, it was game over.

An epic fail! A total and utter humiliation for the Pussianan security services. The SEFR chief lay “emasculated” in a coma, Project Helen lost, crucial intelligence assets compromised, agents dead, secure locations infiltrated. Tomorrow, heads would roll. Some big wigs would be demoted, even get fired perhaps.

But the women involved, they would definitely suffer the most. They were not part of the decision-making process, they literally had no agency throughout, they weren’t even allowed to carry real weapons. Still, she knew full well that she and a few of her pussied comrades would be torn apart by the angry jackals thirsting for retribution.

Gloria swore at her bad luck. About an hour ago, she was this close to leaving the task force without a major incident. She was officially recalled. She was one step away from returning to that relatively uneventful drudgery at the Hive with a letter of commendation from the commander. But no, she had to show that fucking tablet to Viltis, instead of passing it to the new sexretary waiting outside. Stupidest move of her life.

Now, she was going to be one of the scapegoats for this major fuckup.

The dread she felt gave her an unexpected jolt. The world slowed down again, her mind started chugging faster. Her drying eyeballs were fixed at a distant ambulance, but in her peripheral vision she could see the fugitives making their way towards their getaway vehicle in slow motion. They were about to pass the pile of crates her tranq gun was pointed at. The gun was still in her hand and finger was on the trigger. If only she could move the tip of her finger one more time.

Not that an unlikely lucky hit would slow them down, of course. She just wanted to make those bastards feel one last bite of the dart. She concentrated. Tried to clench her muscles. No response. She tried again. Nothing. She tried one last time.

It worked, somehow, to her surprise. Her eyelids closed and gave her agitated eyes some relief… and her finger squeezed the trigger. She heard a series of pops. Her wrist moved around with the recoil and stopped when it hit Dumbharlot’s leg. She was almost certain that last effort was in vain, but she felt some sort of satisfaction anyway.


* * *


“Get her up as quickly as you can. Work your magic. I want to talk to her.”

She felt a touch on her arm, then the sting of an injector. She knew it was nothing, but she shuddered in sheer pain as her GPAC-ridden mind registered it as a violent stabbing with a serrated blade. Her brain sent the command to scream in order to ease the intense pain, but her paralyzed body did not respond. That was the main point of GPAC. The miracle chem rendered its victim defenseless and multiplied the effects of external stimuli on her senses. Since it was created by an evil genius back in the early 20s, the SEFR used the drug in its many forms, mostly to capture, interrogate, torture, and sometimes execute the enemies of the regime.

It was the first time Gloria felt the effect of the drug since her introduction to it at cadet school. As part of their tranq-gun training, they were lined-up and shot with a lower-dose dart once, and then were raped by the camp personnel afterwards. It was one of the worst experiences of her life… until today. That intense feeling paled in comparison to the havoc the real thing was causing in her system now. The realization immediately made her feel horrible for using it on the countless runners she chased down throughout the years.

Thankfully, she wasn’t going to be gangraped for hours this time. The injection hurt like hell at first, but the pain started to diminish immediately. She slowly regained motor functions. But only up to a point. Her joints were still not responding fully. It felt like she was trying to move in a swimming pool, just like the manuals described.

“When will she be able to speak?” Asked Viltis without looking at the doctor who was shuffling through his med cabinet.

“This cunt can talk, Master-Agent Viltis,” slurred the slavecop before the doc could give his professional opinion.

“Good. Talk!”

Gloria recounted the encounter efficiently in a few sentences. There wasn’t much to tell anyway. The entire thing was all over in several seconds.

“You said Agent McKluge intervened to save your life. She wasn’t restrained?”

“No Master-Agent,” she replied. “I believe she was being held at gunpoint. Their sidecunt was standing behind her. The one who later shot us with tranqs.” She swallowed. She wanted to believe her statement, but she wasn’t entirely sure if Minerva was a hostage or not. She just had a feeling that something was off.

“This cunt is sorry for failing to stop the fugitives, Master-Agent,” she added, hoping to see in his usually emotionless face if she was going o be punished or not. Her eyes were drawn to the two rookie slavecops lying on cots next to hers. Apparently they weren’t lucky enough to receive their anti-GPAC chems yet. Then she noticed Anders lying at the far end of the ward. “Um… Is Master Anders-”

“Dead,” replied Viltis, coldly.

“This cunt is sorry o hear that. He was a-”

“He was a waste of oxygen,” interrupted Viltis. “Still, regrettable, his unexpected loss,” he added awkwardly after a moment, as if he was reading from a protocol manual. “You may not be aware, but we also lost a Cunthound during the chase. They crashed into a civilian vehicle. Agent Harris and A-S Spankwhore are in critical condition. I had to request additional personnel to reinforce our strike teams.”

“The task force… was not dispersed?” Gloria asked in surprise. “This cunt assumed.. after this failure…”

“The mission wasn’t a total failure,” Viltis interjected once more. “We might still salvage it.” He looked at the redhead in the eyes for the first time since the beginning of their conversation. “Can you walk, A-S Bouncytits?”

“Yes Sir!” Gloria jumped down and followed Agent Viltis dragging her shaky legs. The man walked out of the ward and called the elevator. They descended to the containment level. “They were exceptionally efficient,” he said as he exited the cabin. “They hacked the system first. Then they took out 14 personnel, SEFR operatives and soldiers, before they reached the black box. No more or no less than they needed to. Eight dead, six rendered unconscious. Truly remarkable. Then of course, the four of you, and lastly the Cunthound crash. Not to mention the loss of our prized experiment and…” He hesitated half a second before mentioning Agent McKluge. Gloria could swear that the soulless robot had a tinge of sadness in his voice when he did. Viltis held Minerva in high regard, which was odd already. The redhead always suspected that the relationship between the two was something beyond mutual professional respect.

“This cunt doesn’t think they’ll execute Agent McKluge,” she said after an awkward pause. Her voice lacked confidence.

“I’m sure of that,” he replied. “You’ll see why.” He knocked on the black box entrance that housed Project Helen only a few hours ago. The heavy vault door opened and revealed a bunch of SEFR officers, Section-Eighters by the looks of them. They stepped aside to let Viltis pass, revealing the naked form of a beautiful young woman, heavily restrained on an inclined rape-frame.

Gloria immediately recognized the imposter PMP sidecunt who shot her at the entrance. “You got her?”

“Thanks to you, A-S Bouncytits. It seems you’ve somehow managed to fire your gun in spite of the GPAC in your system, and got her in the ankle. They tell me that it was an impossible shot too. Well done!”

“B-but…” stammered Gloria in shock, “wasn’t she-”

“Immunized? Yes. She had countermeasures in her system against the chems, but she wasn’t immunized against gravity. Apparently you hit her the moment their Cunthound took off, before she managed to enter the vehicle and close the hatch. You made her lose balance and she fell from a height of 6 meters. Her comrades had to leave her behind in order to escape. Can’t blame them, to be honest.”

He walked over to the brunette and put his hand on her forehead, almost lovingly. The woman inhaled nervously through her ring gag. She was struggling hard to appear calm and together, but she could fool nobody.

“We’ll not start raping and torturing her just yet,” the agent said coldly, “ just for a few hours. I want to give her comrades some time to consider their situation. Perhaps we can still use her to recoup some of our losses.”

“A prisoner exchange? For Goldenwhore and Minerva”

“No, ayass Bouncytits,” he smiled, “I don’t think we can convince them to give up Project Helen. Hey would rather kill her themselves.”

“Just Minerva, then. An operative for an operative?”

Viltis raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps,” he said and walked around the rape-frame with his fingers grazing around he captive’s defenseless erogenous zones. “Personally, I’d be happy if they make that offer. You know how much I admire Agent McKluge. She is indispensable for our mission.”

The redhead nodded.

“But of course, as a SEFR officer and a loyal servant of Pussiana, I’d never give up this extraordinary piece of rapemeat. Not for Minerva, not even for both of them.” He slapped the restrained woman hard. “You see, Gloria, this poor thing here is much better and bigger than Goldenwhore. That woman they took, she was just a stupid dancer. A minor celebrity. The state-of-the-art medical stuff we put in her brain aside, breaking that slut was easy. Nothing unusual or impressive.”

He stopped by the gorgeous spy’s head and caressed her cheek gently this time. “Now imagine what would happen if we manage to turn their highly trained operative into an eager fucktoy. Imagine making her crawl on her hands and knees around the globe, making her beg, serve, humiliate herself and the obsolete moral system she was created by. Documenting her absolute surrender to Father Androcracy, televized 24/7…”

He slapped her again.

“You see, we didn’t fail, Gloria. Far from it. We had a sad puppy in our hands, and they handed us a lioness instead. Certainly an upgrade. All things considered, I say we have won!”


(Side Note: There are no images for this chapter due to E~ being on vacation)

 

[xxfluffydeathxx]

Sweet Angelcunt​

She raised her head and listened. Her ears were now fully attuned to the subtle sounds of her new home. Recognizing his footsteps approaching, she jumped from her pillow and rushed towards the door on her hands and knees. She reached her spot just before the key turned in the lock. The door opened, and she rose on her knees with her paws pressing her big tits together, the way he liked to see them presented.

“Woof!” she yapped to welcome her master and shook her butt to wag the tail firmly plugged in her ass. He walked in and smiled, dropped his briefcase in the corner, and patted her on the head.

“Hello my Sweet Angelcunt,” he said lovingly as he removed his necktie. She beamed with joy at the mention of her caninym.

Wondering what he wanted her to do, she adjusted her posture and focused on his right hand. A finger pointing to his belt simply meant “suck.” If he made a circle in the air instead, it meant “turn around, put your head on the floor, and raise your butt for a quick assrape.”

She loved doing both, serving her master and relaxing him after a hard day at work in any way he wanted, but she had an order preference. If she could slop it up first, it would be less painful for her. Luckily, it was his preference too, usually.

He parted his legs a bit and pointed to his belt. She let out a happy woof and leaned in to open his zipper with her teeth. This was the only permissible use of a slave’s teeth, of course. Too excited, she struggled to find the zipper, so she put her paws on his thighs in order to stretch his pants and catch the damn thing. It worked. When she pulled his briefs down, his big member sprang out of the flap and lightly smacked her on the forehead. She yipped with mild surprise and started to lick the semi-erect organ enthusiastically.

This beautiful cock, it was her life. She existed to serve it.

Once she managed to bring it to full-hardness with her talented tongue, she pressed her paws onto her nipples, joined her knees and adjusted her height, then took the organ in her eager mouth. She started by sucking on the tip until he thrust his hip forward ever so slightly. She picked up on the subtle signal and increased the depth bit by bit. Soon she was speed-deepthroating him with ease. Her gag reflex was long gone.

As usual, he soon grabbed her by her cute pigtail buns to ram his rod down her throat, turning her pretty head into a jerk-off toy. It hurt a lot when he did that, but she took it as a compliment. She was what he wanted her to be, and that very moment, she was just a pretty fuckhole and nothing more. It was a wonderful, warm, liberating feeling.

He picked up the pace until his balls gave up. He hugged her head and buried the entire length of his cock in her face. His godly instrument stretched her full lips to the limit, parted her jaw painfully, punched her tongue and uvula out of the way, and squeezed into her throat like a crazed anaconda.

Thankfully she was no longer that stupid virgin who was kept in a dark basement as a rapetoy. She was now a well-trained and experienced fuckpuppy, and she knew how to handle this kind of abuse without choking or passing out. She held her breath and let his glorious essence flow down her gullet. It was sweet, salty, viscous, and fulfilling. It tasted like a warm “attagirl!”

She assumed the proper paws-up position and swallowed her reward, hoping for his finger to make a circle. He didn’t. He zipped up his pants, patted her on the head, then walked into the kitchen. She fell on her hands and knees and followed. He grabbed the last pack of girlfeed from the cupboard and emptied it into her bowl. She patiently waited for his signal to eat. He went to the fridge and picked up a can of beer, sat down, and finally pointed to the bowl. No stop-clock this time? She was glad she didn’t have to rush to finish her feed within a minute. Regardless, habit kicked in and she quickly bowed down to lap up her pig-cum flavored nutritional balls designed to keep her pretty and fuckable.

She happened to know exactly what was in this stuff. After all, she used to be a nutritionist and happened to be a part of the team that designed the very girlfeed she was eating.

That was before her kidnapping, enslavement, and eventual puppification, of course.

No, her master was not the asshole who kidnapped her. It was one of her colleagues at the lab she worked at. One day she made the mistake of agreeing to get a cup of coffee with the creep, and woke up in his basement the next day. She was tied-up, completely naked, and raped god knows how many times. He kept her there for more than a year, heavily restrained and gagged, until her freedom permit ran out, then registered her as a slave. She was already broken in by then. She didn’t even try to complain as he dragged her in and out of the registration office.

It turned out to be both the worst and the best day of her life. Her kidnapper, rapist, and now owner wasn't planning to keep her any longer. He immediately took her to a second-hand cunt bazaar and sold her to the first man who was interested in well-used body.

For the first time in her life, she got lucky. That man was her current master, the man she came to love and cherish.

Martin Miller was a wonderful man and a gentle cunt-owner. No random beatings, no starvation, no heavy punishments, no heavy restraints. Just a dog-leash and daily threeholing. She spent her days slow-blowing him as he worked or rested. She served him extensively before bed, and did the full rituals in the mornings.

Sweet Angelcunt wasn’t as miserable as she were in the rape dungeon she was broken in by that asshole. She found her new life quite comfortable, satisfying even. She learned to enjoy serving her new owner. But no matter how well she served, he looked depressed most of the time. She later found out that his wife was killed in a car accident some time ago, alongside with their beloved family dog. So when he took her to the local cuntpound one day, it dawned on her: She was supposed to replace both. A fucktoy and a puppy, all in one.

She didn’t know if he already had the idea when he purchased her, or it came to him later, but the moment they entered the training house was the moment her life changed forever. It was her last day as a human, and first day as a dog.

The local cuntpound, Wagger-Shaggers it was called, was basically a slave boutique specializing in petgirls. They had a very popular puppy daycare service, and they provided basic pet training for enslaved and yet-to-be-enslaved women. Her owner would leave her there in the morning on his way to the office and pick her up after work.

The training wasn’t that demanding or exhausting, nothing like an intensive Cummypaws or BFA bitchschool program. She was not utilized by her trainers either. She and her fellow trainees were taught bitchwalking, basic dog-commands, woof-language, no-paws service, stuff like that. They fed her and spanked her properly before her owner arrived, and she happily followed him home on her hands and knees.

She accepted her new identity surprisingly quickly. It all came natural to her. The leash, crawling on all fours, eating girlfeed from a dog bowl, drinking from the toilet… Only part she didn’t initially like was being dragged around the city completely naked. By then she was used to being naked all the time of course, but not in public. And the worst part was having to relieve herself outside. As a dog, she was no longer allowed to use the facilities at home.

All that was almost two years ago. Today, she was her beloved master’s perfect fuckpuppy. Always happy and eager to please.

She finished her girlfeed and licked the bowl clean. He gave the close fist signal and pointed towards the corner. She picked the bowl in her mouth and carried the bowl where he pointed at, then returned to her former spot to wait for her next command. She waited calmly on her knees as he drank the rest of his beer and checked his messages on his phone.

“Ah!” He exclaimed. “It was today? I totally forgot about your Fem-Vet appointment.”

“Woof!” yapped Sweet Angelcunt, wagging her tail. She both hated and loved the Fem-Vet. Specifically, she loved the waiting room with all the other petgirls. She liked watching them. Sometimes she even got to play with them. Her FV was a nice old man, but the examination itself wasn’t always a pleasant affair. They sometimes poked and penetrated her for half an hour with all those scary gadgets. Not in a fun way.

Master replaced her lightweight home collar with a thick leather one and attached a short leash to its metal ring. It was coincidentally her favorite too. One might assume that a puppygirl would prefer a longer leash that allows more freedom of movement, but she liked to be on a short leash. She liked to be close to him, crawl by his heel. She liked the feeling when he yanked her leash whenever she failed to match his speed or messed up her gait. She liked being tightly controlled by her god-master as much as serving him. She felt liberated under his rule.

A tap on his hip followed by a gentle pull of her leash. She quickly heeled. He led her to the SUV and opened the back door, where her travel cage waited for her. She jumped in and lay down on the blanket. The cage was rather small, since it originally belonged to her owner’s real dog that passed away years ago. Her petite body fit in there alright, but it certainly wasn’t very comfortable. Luckily their Fem-Vet was only a few minutes away by car.

Unless he stopped for grocery shopping on his way, of course. This time, he had to. They were out of girlfeed and beer. He let her follow him to the supermarket entrance and locked her leash to the slave parking-bar next to the gate. He gave the open palm stay sign before disappearing into the store. She waited like a good girl on her knees with a few other young women.

She counted two slavegirls, three puppies, one catgirl, and a leashed bareneck. A restrained freewoman at a market entrance was a rare sight, but not shocking at all. Sweet Angelcunt knew well that not all fucktoys carried BFA bands.

He was done in a jiffy. She was back In the cage, on the road, and finally at the door of the Fem-Vet clinic within a few minutes.

A slave sexretary opened the door and welcomed them. Master picked a seat in the waiting area away from the crowd of pets and owners lined along the opposite wall. Angelcunt knew that her owner was not the most sociable person. He didn’t like strangers, pleasantries, or small talk. She didn’t actually know if he had any close friends. He sometime went out and left her home alone, so she assumed that he had some social life. The petgirl just wasn’t a part of it.

She sat with paws on the floor on his right side, ready to get in fellatio position, but he chose to pick up a magazine and gave her a palm down. This wasn’t one of the hand signals she was taught at Wagger-Shaggers. It was what her master did to tell her keep her distance. He did it when he needed some space. She understood, of course. Sometimes she could be too clingy, suffocating even. It felt like rejection in the beginning, but she came to appreciate these cool-down periods. In time, she learned to relax and rest during these interrape breaks.

Temporarily released from her duties as a fuckpuppy, she was now free to do what she loved most at the Fem-Vet: Pupwatching!

She spotted some familiar faces in the group right away. The Spoling twins Jane and Jean, now caninized as Butterboobs and Sugarbutt, were kneeling at the feet of their owner Master Trener. They looked calm and cosy with their heads resting on his thighs. Angelcunt knew them from the training school.

She also immediately recognized Lady Spankbuns’ distinctive slurping sounds even before she turned to the nook at the corner. The redhead was well known among the men of the neighborhood for the cutesy moans and slurps she made while sucking cock. Angelcunt had no idea whether the pup was actually good at fellatio or not, but she certainly loved listening to her melodious moaning like everyone else.

There was another fuckpuppy she wasn’t familiar with playing with her toys right in front of them. Her young pussy looked unusually pristine. A recent addition to the family kennel perhaps?

While Angel was watching the fresh little bitchling nibble on her plastic bone, Dr. Upton emerged from one of the examination rooms with a petwoman in her late twenties, gave her a treat, and send her away with a big smile. The man was in his early sixties, balding, had a slight hunch, but he also had an unusually warm fatherly smile that could calm the most nervous puppy within a couple seconds. It certainly worked on Angelcunt when her owner first brought her here after her full puppification.

Unlike many of her colleagues who completed two-year certificate programs, Upton was a real medical doctor. Angel remembered him telling her master that he used to be a gynaecologist before the glorious revolution. When his patient profile started to change radically after the enactment of the Compulsory Female Slavery Law, the man quickly realized that he had to transition to post-rape care business. He opened this clinic with a trauma surgeon friend, and quickly made a name as one of the best Fem-Vets in the region.

“Sweet Angelcunt!” He exclaimed with his gravelly voice and took her pretty head between his calloused palms. “How is my favorite patient doing? Tell me, have you been a good girl?”

“Woof!” She yapped proudly. Of course, her owner would be the final arbiter on that.

“She’s been a wonderful pup,” he affirmed. She blushed like a ripe tomato.

“Fantastic! Come on in. Let’s take a good look at this lassie, eh?”


to be continued...

 

[xxfluffydeathxx]

The Fem-Vet​

Angelcunt happily followed the old man to examination room three. He tapped on the table and waited for her to climb on it using the puppy ladder on the side. He gave her a treat and quickly examined her eyes and ears. He then cupped her big breasts and squeezed, gently slapped them around to observe how they moved, and let out a groan of admiration. “Very good,” he said and walked around to examine her bottom. He removed the tail plug, squeezed her asscheeks, inserted his fingers in her primary and secondary and moved them around to test her musculature. “Wonderful!” He exclaimed this time. “Very tight and highly responsive. As fuckable as ever. What a wonderful fuckmeat you are, Sweet Angelcunt.”

She beamed with pride once again. Was a there a bigger compliment a woman could receive?

“You don’t share her, if I remember correctly. Any changes in her utilization schedule since your last visit?”

Miller shook his head no. The Fem-Vet picked a blank inspection form from the cabinet and started to fill it in.

“Exclusive slave, one-hole-at-a time use, won’t get much wear-and-tear. Personally, I don’t have a problem with that, but you know, the BFA recommends regular spitroastings and threeholings for females in her age group. Legally, all females, privately owned or not, belong to the national rapestock and must be trained well enough to meet the FSO criteria.”

“Yes, you gave me the same talk a few times before, doc. I still think these state guidelines are pointless bullshit, but I get it. I even bought a spitroasting machine to train her after our last appointment. Didn’t have a chance to take it out of the box yet.”

Dr. Upton gave Miller a friendly squeeze on the arm. “Fine. You fire that thing up once in a month. A couple hours of double penetration will do wonders on this little beauty. I know you youngsters feel like it’s man insult, but there is no shame in this.” He slapped the girl’s round bottom hard. “These things solely exist to accommodate cocks. One man cannot possibly fuck a girl as much as she needs to be fucked.”

“That’s debatable,” dismissed the man. “Anyway, just do your tests, doc. Let’s get this over with.”

Upton threw his hands in the air in surrender and called in one of his assistants. A technician rolled in two penetration dummies and attached them to either side of the examination table. Angelcunt’s happy expression was quickly replaced by an anxious frown at the sight to the devices. She didn’t like these soulless automatons at all. Their dildo attachments had a very rough texture and a repulsive smell. The machine itself had many speeds and modes, many of them randomized to simulate a real rape, but all felt like brutal beatings instead. She didn’t understand why her beloved owner and the good doctor regularly hurt her this way, but she took it like a good girl anyway. After all, they knew what was best for her. It was for her own good.

The technician adjusted the height of the pistons, attached the dildos, and inserted them halfway in her primary and secondary fuckholes. She opened her mouth and waited obediently as he did the same with the tertiary penetrator. Once the dildo was in place, she quickly took it into her mouth before she was ordered to. She was familiar with the procedure by now. She expected an attagirl, but the technician didn’t seem to care. He waited for Upton’s green light, then pressed the big red button.

The pistons in her pussy and asshole started to move first, slowly in the beginning, but soon picked up the pace. The oral penetrator came alive next. It was milder and slower, but she hated the smell and the taste.

As the mechanized threeholing progressed, the doctor continued to walk around the pup's strained body and examine her reactions. He gave her a few squeezes and smacks on her perky round bottom, a couple pinch-and-pulls on her engorged nipples, and gentle strokes on her rosy cheeks. She smiled as the plastic dildo continued to fuck her pretty face and throat mercilessly.

Dr. Upton smiled back. “Everything looks perfect. I'm sure she’ll be fine even if the FSO storms your home and drags her to a test gangrape tonight. What an absolute sweetheart! I trust she is taking her obedience meds regularly?”

“Sure,” the man replied. “Like you said, she improved so much since you prescribed the stuff. No more sulking or weeping. She barely remembers her first year in that asshole's basement, I believe. She is energetic, enthusiastic, always eager to please.”

“Wonderful,” the FV said and picked up a box of Submicin from a nearby drug cabinet. “This stuff is nothing short of a miracle. Makes them docile, happy, and well-lubricated. Here, you must be almost out.” He handed the box to her owner.

He nodded to the technician again. The man deactivated the machines and rolled them out. Angelcunt exhaled in relief, and beamed proudly when she got congratulatory pats on the head from both men. She was officially a good girl.

Upton stroke her nose gently and raised her chin with his finger. “Tell me, Angelcunt, do you ever feel any urge to stand up?” She shook her head no. “Goooood giiiiirl! Puppies always keep their knees on the floor, don’t they?”

“Woof!” she affirmed.

“That’s my good girl. I love the smart ones who follow the rules. I hate having to cut any tendons or break any toes.” He let her chin go and turned to the man once more. “So, anything else? Any modifications you had in mind? We recently acquired a new delimbing machine to remove unnecessary parts, if you need something like that done. You know, she doesn’t really need anything below the knee, fingers, hands…”

“No, no, I like ’em intact, doc,” said the man. “I’m a traditionalist, you know. Actually, I kinda want the opposite. I want to add to her, not remove from her.”

“Ah! Breast enlargement, neck lengthening, spinal arching, vaginal deepening?”

“No, nothing like that. I ‘m considering breeding her. You know, my late wife and I were trying for a child, but she passed away before we could… So I thought, I’ll try again with Angelcunt.”

Her eyes opened wide in shock. Her master wanted to breed her? Her chemically subdued mind exploded with excitement. Her limbs started to shake.

“Very good,” said the doctor and reached under her to stroke her belly. “She is a prime specimen. Perfect for breeding. We can start prepping her immediately if you want.”

“What do we need to do?”

“First of all, we’ll have to change her diet completely. As you know, everything we let females eat or drink is laced with contraceptives. You need to switch to a special girlfeed without ‘undisrupted female utilization safeguards.’ Look for a ‘UFUS-free’ label on the feed packs. Same with water. No tap water. UFUS-free drinks only.” He pointed to the box of meds he handed him earlier. “Those are safe to use, but no GPAC-derivatives, if you are using them.”

“Alright, no problem.”

The petgirl caught herself nodding. As a trained nutritionist, she knew all about UFUS. She just never imagined herself on an UFUS-free diet. It was of course forbidden for females to purchase or consume such products without CMR or owner consent. Slave or free, female reproductive organs belonged to men, not the women themselves. It was, after all, strictly a matter of state security and national survival. Women were a natural resource, perhaps the most important one, and they had to be tightly controlled and responsibly utilized.

“After that, we can do a number of things,” Doctor Upton continued. “One option, the simplest one, you just keep doing what you do. Continue raping her regularly and keep your fingers crossed. Of course, in the post-Calamity world, it’s considerably more difficult to conceive a child in the natural way. Even if you somehow manage to impregnate her, the chances of having a male child is roughly one-in-seven.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, it’s wrong of me to assume… I have to ask what you had in mind first. Is this legacy or investment?”

“Legacy or investment?”

“I mean, do you want a male child to ensure the continuation of your lineage, or a long-term investment that would pay in eighteen years. If it’s the latter what you want, we can easily do twins, triplets, even quadruplets nowadays.”

“Right. It doesn’t matter,” replied the man, and made a face. “Quadruplets? A whole litter, seriously? Do I look like a girlfarmer from the north, doc?”

“Ah-hah! Fine. I’m just saying that we have the technology to do it. Very profitable, this business. Movie studios pay astronomical numbers for talented identical multiplets these days.”

“Yes, I heard about that. Not interested in that type of thing,” the man dismissed.

“I understand. You can go with the first option and hope for the best, but my recommendation will be in-vitro fertilization. We’ll harvest her eggs, fertilize them with your sperm, select male zygotes, and insert them in her uterus. I know, it does take the fun out of it, but it’s the only way to guarantee the sex of the offspring.”

“No fun, eh? What about that show on TV? What was it called? Ah, Deeper Violation.”

“Haven’t seen it. Is that a medical show?”

“Partly. They take a woman, generally a bareneck, restrain her on a medieval torture rack, inject her with hallucinogenic drugs and pain-inducers like GPAC, rape and torture her for hours of course, and sometimes place fertilized eggs in her uterus to render her pregnant. They add a different gimmick every week. Quite entertaining.”

“How awful,” the doctor replied. “What was the name of the show again?”

“Deeper Violation. Channel 3, Wednesdays at 8.”

“Eh? Maybe I’ll check it out tomorrow. Anyway, If you had made up your mind, we can immediately start with the injections. Forgot to mention that, you’ll have to bring her here for regular injections.”

“That’s fine. My Sweet Angel loves our Fem-Vet visits… don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Woof!” She barked.

Dr. Upton gave her another attagirl treat before starting to prepare the fertility cocktail. “This will increase the sensitivity of her erogenous zones a bit too,” he warned. “Labia, clit, areolas… Are you a fan of the flogger, Mr. Miller?”

“Not really, no.”

“You don’t beat this pretty thing up? Not even for a few hours a week?”

Miller shook his head.

“You know,” the doctor wagged his finger with a mischievous smile, “you have to do it once in a while. No matter how obedient she is. It’s the law.” He cleaned the petgirl’s left butt-cheek with a wipe and stabbed her with the injector without warning. Angelcunt let out a pained yelp.

“What are you talking about doc?” the man pursed his lips. “The law? Nobody can tell me how to train and utilize my property.”

“Actually, they can,” said the FV and stabbed her in the left tit this time. A bigger, more surprised yelp escaped the girl’s mouth. “The CFSL specifies a minimum amount of ‘disciplinary action’ you have to take.”

“Disciplinary action? Sounds rather vague to me. Fine, I sometimes take her toys away when she misbehaves. How about that?”

“Ah-hah! sure, that might work,” chuckled the old man. “Still, my medical report will say you’re administering daily half-hour-long floggings. Regular beatings on CVB - Chest, vulva, buttocks. Just to be safe, eh?”

“You’re the expert, doc,” shrugged Miller.

“Fist round of fertility injections are done, and you know what to do with her diet. She is ready to be bred,” the doctor said with an upbeat tone. “So, what’s the decision? You want to do the in-vitro?”

Miller paused for a moment. “Naah!” he declined eventually. “I think I’ll do it the fun way.”

(Side Note: There are no images for this chapter due to E~ being on vacation)

 

[sexy10]

The Fem-Vet​

Angelcunt happily followed the old man to examination room three. He tapped on the table and waited for her to climb on it using the puppy ladder on the side. He gave her a treat and quickly examined her eyes and ears. He then cupped her big breasts and squeezed, gently slapped them around to observe how they moved, and let out a groan of admiration. “Very good,” he said and walked around to examine her bottom. He removed the tail plug, squeezed her asscheeks, inserted his fingers in her primary and secondary and moved them around to test her musculature. “Wonderful!” He exclaimed this time. “Very tight and highly responsive. As fuckable as ever. What a wonderful fuckmeat you are, Sweet Angelcunt.”

She beamed with pride once again. Was a there a bigger compliment a woman could receive?

“You don’t share her, if I remember correctly. Any changes in her utilization schedule since your last visit?”

Miller shook his head no. The Fem-Vet picked a blank inspection form from the cabinet and started to fill it in.

“Exclusive slave, one-hole-at-a time use, won’t get much wear-and-tear. Personally, I don’t have a problem with that, but you know, the BFA recommends regular spitroastings and threeholings for females in her age group. Legally, all females, privately owned or not, belong to the national rapestock and must be trained well enough to meet the FSO criteria.”

“Yes, you gave me the same talk a few times before, doc. I still think these state guidelines are pointless bullshit, but I get it. I even bought a spitroasting machine to train her after our last appointment. Didn’t have a chance to take it out of the box yet.”

Dr. Upton gave Miller a friendly squeeze on the arm. “Fine. You fire that thing up once in a month. A couple hours of double penetration will do wonders on this little beauty. I know you youngsters feel like it’s man insult, but there is no shame in this.” He slapped the girl’s round bottom hard. “These things solely exist to accommodate cocks. One man cannot possibly fuck a girl as much as she needs to be fucked.”

“That’s debatable,” dismissed the man. “Anyway, just do your tests, doc. Let’s get this over with.”

Upton threw his hands in the air in surrender and called in one of his assistants. A technician rolled in two penetration dummies and attached them to either side of the examination table. Angelcunt’s happy expression was quickly replaced by an anxious frown at the sight to the devices. She didn’t like these soulless automatons at all. Their dildo attachments had a very rough texture and a repulsive smell. The machine itself had many speeds and modes, many of them randomized to simulate a real rape, but all felt like brutal beatings instead. She didn’t understand why her beloved owner and the good doctor regularly hurt her this way, but she took it like a good girl anyway. After all, they knew what was best for her. It was for her own good.

The technician adjusted the height of the pistons, attached the dildos, and inserted them halfway in her primary and secondary fuckholes. She opened her mouth and waited obediently as he did the same with the tertiary penetrator. Once the dildo was in place, she quickly took it into her mouth before she was ordered to. She was familiar with the procedure by now. She expected an attagirl, but the technician didn’t seem to care. He waited for Upton’s green light, then pressed the big red button.

The pistons in her pussy and asshole started to move first, slowly in the beginning, but soon picked up the pace. The oral penetrator came alive next. It was milder and slower, but she hated the smell and the taste.

As the mechanized threeholing progressed, the doctor continued to walk around the pup's strained body and examine her reactions. He gave her a few squeezes and smacks on her perky round bottom, a couple pinch-and-pulls on her engorged nipples, and gentle strokes on her rosy cheeks. She smiled as the plastic dildo continued to fuck her pretty face and throat mercilessly.

Dr. Upton smiled back. “Everything looks perfect. I'm sure she’ll be fine even if the FSO storms your home and drags her to a test gangrape tonight. What an absolute sweetheart! I trust she is taking her obedience meds regularly?”

“Sure,” the man replied. “Like you said, she improved so much since you prescribed the stuff. No more sulking or weeping. She barely remembers her first year in that asshole's basement, I believe. She is energetic, enthusiastic, always eager to please.”

“Wonderful,” the FV said and picked up a box of Submicin from a nearby drug cabinet. “This stuff is nothing short of a miracle. Makes them docile, happy, and well-lubricated. Here, you must be almost out.” He handed the box to her owner.

He nodded to the technician again. The man deactivated the machines and rolled them out. Angelcunt exhaled in relief, and beamed proudly when she got congratulatory pats on the head from both men. She was officially a good girl.

Upton stroke her nose gently and raised her chin with his finger. “Tell me, Angelcunt, do you ever feel any urge to stand up?” She shook her head no. “Goooood giiiiirl! Puppies always keep their knees on the floor, don’t they?”

“Woof!” she affirmed.

“That’s my good girl. I love the smart ones who follow the rules. I hate having to cut any tendons or break any toes.” He let her chin go and turned to the man once more. “So, anything else? Any modifications you had in mind? We recently acquired a new delimbing machine to remove unnecessary parts, if you need something like that done. You know, she doesn’t really need anything below the knee, fingers, hands…”

“No, no, I like ’em intact, doc,” said the man. “I’m a traditionalist, you know. Actually, I kinda want the opposite. I want to add to her, not remove from her.”

“Ah! Breast enlargement, neck lengthening, spinal arching, vaginal deepening?”

“No, nothing like that. I ‘m considering breeding her. You know, my late wife and I were trying for a child, but she passed away before we could… So I thought, I’ll try again with Angelcunt.”

Her eyes opened wide in shock. Her master wanted to breed her? Her chemically subdued mind exploded with excitement. Her limbs started to shake.

“Very good,” said the doctor and reached under her to stroke her belly. “She is a prime specimen. Perfect for breeding. We can start prepping her immediately if you want.”

“What do we need to do?”

“First of all, we’ll have to change her diet completely. As you know, everything we let females eat or drink is laced with contraceptives. You need to switch to a special girlfeed without ‘undisrupted female utilization safeguards.’ Look for a ‘UFUS-free’ label on the feed packs. Same with water. No tap water. UFUS-free drinks only.” He pointed to the box of meds he handed him earlier. “Those are safe to use, but no GPAC-derivatives, if you are using them.”

“Alright, no problem.”

The petgirl caught herself nodding. As a trained nutritionist, she knew all about UFUS. She just never imagined herself on an UFUS-free diet. It was of course forbidden for females to purchase or consume such products without CMR or owner consent. Slave or free, female reproductive organs belonged to men, not the women themselves. It was, after all, strictly a matter of state security and national survival. Women were a natural resource, perhaps the most important one, and they had to be tightly controlled and responsibly utilized.

“After that, we can do a number of things,” Doctor Upton continued. “One option, the simplest one, you just keep doing what you do. Continue raping her regularly and keep your fingers crossed. Of course, in the post-Calamity world, it’s considerably more difficult to conceive a child in the natural way. Even if you somehow manage to impregnate her, the chances of having a male child is roughly one-in-seven.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, it’s wrong of me to assume… I have to ask what you had in mind first. Is this legacy or investment?”

“Legacy or investment?”

“I mean, do you want a male child to ensure the continuation of your lineage, or a long-term investment that would pay in eighteen years. If it’s the latter what you want, we can easily do twins, triplets, even quadruplets nowadays.”

“Right. It doesn’t matter,” replied the man, and made a face. “Quadruplets? A whole litter, seriously? Do I look like a girlfarmer from the north, doc?”

“Ah-hah! Fine. I’m just saying that we have the technology to do it. Very profitable, this business. Movie studios pay astronomical numbers for talented identical multiplets these days.”

“Yes, I heard about that. Not interested in that type of thing,” the man dismissed.

“I understand. You can go with the first option and hope for the best, but my recommendation will be in-vitro fertilization. We’ll harvest her eggs, fertilize them with your sperm, select male zygotes, and insert them in her uterus. I know, it does take the fun out of it, but it’s the only way to guarantee the sex of the offspring.”

“No fun, eh? What about that show on TV? What was it called? Ah, Deeper Violation.”

“Haven’t seen it. Is that a medical show?”

“Partly. They take a woman, generally a bareneck, restrain her on a medieval torture rack, inject her with hallucinogenic drugs and pain-inducers like GPAC, rape and torture her for hours of course, and sometimes place fertilized eggs in her uterus to render her pregnant. They add a different gimmick every week. Quite entertaining.”

“How awful,” the doctor replied. “What was the name of the show again?”

“Deeper Violation. Channel 3, Wednesdays at 8.”

“Eh? Maybe I’ll check it out tomorrow. Anyway, If you had made up your mind, we can immediately start with the injections. Forgot to mention that, you’ll have to bring her here for regular injections.”

“That’s fine. My Sweet Angel loves our Fem-Vet visits… don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Woof!” She barked.

Dr. Upton gave her another attagirl treat before starting to prepare the fertility cocktail. “This will increase the sensitivity of her erogenous zones a bit too,” he warned. “Labia, clit, areolas… Are you a fan of the flogger, Mr. Miller?”

“Not really, no.”

“You don’t beat this pretty thing up? Not even for a few hours a week?”

Miller shook his head.

“You know,” the doctor wagged his finger with a mischievous smile, “you have to do it once in a while. No matter how obedient she is. It’s the law.” He cleaned the petgirl’s left butt-cheek with a wipe and stabbed her with the injector without warning. Angelcunt let out a pained yelp.

“What are you talking about doc?” the man pursed his lips. “The law? Nobody can tell me how to train and utilize my property.”

“Actually, they can,” said the FV and stabbed her in the left tit this time. A bigger, more surprised yelp escaped the girl’s mouth. “The CFSL specifies a minimum amount of ‘disciplinary action’ you have to take.”

“Disciplinary action? Sounds rather vague to me. Fine, I sometimes take her toys away when she misbehaves. How about that?”

“Ah-hah! sure, that might work,” chuckled the old man. “Still, my medical report will say you’re administering daily half-hour-long floggings. Regular beatings on CVB - Chest, vulva, buttocks. Just to be safe, eh?”

“You’re the expert, doc,” shrugged Miller.

“Fist round of fertility injections are done, and you know what to do with her diet. She is ready to be bred,” the doctor said with an upbeat tone. “So, what’s the decision? You want to do the in-vitro?”

Miller paused for a moment. “Naah!” he declined eventually. “I think I’ll do it the fun way.”


(Side Note: There are no images for this chapter due to E~ being on vacation)

Thx for upload these stories, I believe this one just got photo's added

 

[timbob]

Thx for upload these stories, I believe this one just got photo's added

Hopefully...

 

[timbob]

Dear Fellow Fans, there used to be an esteemed Member doing E-Books out of the Sharings... I`m getting a bit confused with all the "Specials" etc.. I mean, great Member Wivers gave Advice on how to read it in an Order to relate, but... Would be nice. I save it as Text Docs with the Pics up to now. Never created an E-Book and I`m short in time actually... Would be great

 

[wivers]

Dear Fellow Fans, there used to be an esteemed Member doing E-Books out of the Sharings... I`m getting a bit confused with all the "Specials" etc.. I mean, great Member Wivers gave Advice on how to read it in an Order to relate, but... Would be nice. I save it as Text Docs with the Pics up to now. Never created an E-Book and I`m short in time actually... Would be great

I'll Compile the short stories into an Ebook this WE.

I'll also add this image from E's Twitter to "the Fem-vet":

 

[timbob]

I'll Compile the short stories into an Ebook this WE.

I'll also add this image from E's Twitter to "the Fem-vet":


View attachment 1793078

1st "Fem-Vet" Pic was a clear Reminiscense to BG-Plot with nice Cameos... wonderfull (talking too much here, sorry)

 

[timbob]

To make it plain... Remake and original Plot: "The Kennels" - Heather at the Left, Kim being "transformed" in the Treatment Room.. Who else there?

 

[xxfluffydeathxx]

Thx for upload these stories, I believe this one just got photo's added

updated.

 

[wivers]

Erenisch short stories compilations​

I compiled all the short stories from Erenisch I have into one ebook. The Ebook contains:

Conception (1 chapter - Completed): A new Sister-Wife's womanhood is consecrated in a rural community - Prequel to 'Revolution'​

Diary (1 chapter): Wanda Pearson was captured by FISTers. They gave her a Diary - 'Prequel'. References"the Stevensons", pp.1017-1024​

The Victim (2 Chapters): a girl fantasizes about being kidnapped - Standalone/independent​

The Call (1 Chapter): a puppy you might recognize answer a phone call to her master. - After "Sluts in Training 02"​

Horrowtide (2 chapters): It's Horrowtide in the neighborhood. A time of sharing one's riches with one's neighbor - After "The Birthday Gift 11"​

The Pilot (1 Chapter): A talented artist's struggle with the publishing industry? - After "Reckless"​

The Main ingredient (1 Chapter): Maria DiFrotze checks up on her investment at Stallion Milk - After "Karma 2"​

Third Time's The Charm (2 Chapters): A girl who was seduced and enslaved got bought back by her loving ex - After "the Stevensons" p.1076​

End of Shift (1 Chapter): Two colleagues from 'Campus Coffee' catch-up while they switch shift - After 'The Stevensons' p.1096​

Sweet Angelcunt (3 Chapters): A glimpse at the life of puppygirl Sweet Angelbutt and her nice Master - Standalone/independent​

added 2026-03-29:

6th Anniversary Special*: 6 years ago, an angel fell from the sky into the woods, and lost her memory - Standalone?​

Eleven Sufferings of Ileadhra*: An Excerpt of Vesya religion - After "The Stevensons" pp. 1226-1235​

The Law Office* (2 Chapters): "the Choice" & "The Contract" - After the novella "the Lawsuit"​

These stories are companion pieces/side stories to Erenisch's comics; in particular to "The Stevensons" and its prequel "Birthday Gift". They takes place in the 'Erenisch-verse" where society is organized around the (sexual) enslavement of women.

And here's a post with a list of Erenisch's stories, more or less in order

2025-11: Added "Conception". I might end up removing it and adding it to the "Revolution" book though.
2026-01-17: Added "Sweet Angelcunt" Chapter 03. If more chapters are added, It will get its own ebook.

 

[xxfluffydeathxx]

Erenisch short stories compilations​

I compiled all the short stories from Erenisch I have into one ebook. The Ebook contains:

Diary (1 chapter): Wanda Pearson was captured by FISTers. They gave her a Diary - 'Prequel'. References"the Stevensons", pp.1017-1024
The Victim (2 Chapters): a girl fantasizes about being kidnapped - Standalone/independent
The Call (1 Chapter): a puppy you might recognize answer a phone call to her master. - After "Sluts in Training 02"
Horrowtide (2 chapters): It's Horrowtide in the neighborhood. A time of sharing one's riches with one's neighbor - After "The Birthday Gift 11"
The Pilot (1 Chapter): A talented artist's struggle with the publishing industry? - After "Reckless"
The Main ingredient (1 Chapter): Maria DiFrotze checks up on her investment at Stallion Milk - After "Karma 2"
Third Time's The Charm (2 Chapters): A girl who was seduced and enslaved got bought back by her loving ex - After "the Stevensons" p.1076
End of Shift (1 Chapter): Two colleagues from 'Campus Coffee' catch-up while they switch shift - After 'The Stevensons' p.1096
Sweet Angelcunt (2 Chapters): A glimpse at the life of puppygirl Sweet Angelbutt and her nice Master - Standalone/independent

These stories are companion pieces/side stories to Erenisch's comics; in particular to "The Stevensons" and its prequel "Birthday Gift". They takes place in the 'Erenisch-verse" where society is organized around the (sexual) enslavement of women.

Thank you.

 

[wivers]

Revolution by Erenisch​

For now, the story has 16 chapters, and it seems to be 'on hold'/'not a priority'.

This story takes place in the Year 2021 of the Erenischverse, one generation before "Birthday Girl" and "Mastery", and about a year before many countries would pass the 'Compulsory Female Slavery Law'.
It follows Aggie, who is studying Psychology in Snatchfield.

Here's a cover I made for the ebook. It's a bit Spoilery (arguably), but I couldn't find better art for it

Spoiler: The Cover

And here's a post with a list of Erenisch's stories, more or less in order

 

[wivers]

The Prey, by Erenisch​

For now, the story has 6 chapters, and seems to be 'on hold'. It does not seem to reference any other story so far.

The story follows Fawn, who has been sentenced to sign up for the 'Hunt-r' program, where she "play" the prey of would-be "hunters".

I've made two alternative covers. In my opinion one is too tame, and the other too messy, but I couldn't find any 'in-between' drawing:


And here's a post with a list of Erenisch's stories, more or less in order

 

[wivers]

Milk, by Erenisch​

For now the story has 12 chapters, and seems to be worked on irregularly. It takes places some time after Bianca 'Milkynips' Watson met Eddie Mestring in "Mastery" Ch.02.

Milkynips is a middle-aged, lactating ex-Teacher who gets bought by a group of ex-students (bad ones)

as of the addition of chapter 13, I've made 2 version. One containing strictly the "Milk" chapters, one with additional chapters from "Lawsuit".
Going forward, I likely will only update the version with the additional Lawsuit chapters

Here's a cover:


And here's a post with a list of Erenisch's stories, more or less in order

2026-05-29: Added Ch13-15 and a version with additional related chapters from "the Lawsuit"

 

[timbob]

The Prey, by Erenisch​

For now, the story has 6 chapters, and seems to be 'on hold'. It does not seem to reference any other story so far.

The story follows Fawn, who has been sentenced to sign up for the 'Hunt-r' program, where she "play" the prey of would-be "hunters".

I've made two alternative covers. In my opinion one is too tame, and the other too messy, but I couldn't find any 'in-between' drawing:
View attachment 1796237View attachment 1796238

And here's a post with a list of Erenisch's stories, more or less in order

Gave you a "Like" by Mistake. Wanted to say "WOW" + "love it". Great. This Story far to short in my Taste. Time to launch a Wivers special Folder in my E Collection.