The Last Dream

The last dream.
Warning: This is not for the faint of Heart or

Stomach.
I again dreamed about the future. This time it was
beyond the outline of the previous dreams. This
was years later. A different entity, a female one
came to me. She told me that the previous entity
"the inventor", not the computer, was processed
into meat years before when he refused the
implant and she was his daughter. She had
escaped to a more primitive area. She was
continuing the tale and was reusing her fathers
bio-computer equipment. She knew it was only a
short time before she would be taken. She wanted
to verify her fathers work and send some eye
witness data to prove it.
The situation had gotten worse. There were no
longer enough criminals, unbelievers, and
unmarked, caught to satisfy the hungry population.
The strategy had to be changed. The population
was informed of the source of the meat, the
concentration camps were closed, and the
equipment was moved to the cities' abandoned
factories.
The hungry people were so glad to eat, that they
really did not care who it was. A meat lottery was
setup, similar to the ancient Draft Boards.
Everybody of a certain age and of good health was
forced to register and selections were made by
lottery and how vital they were to the economy.
The rich and important were exempt. The women
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were selected more than men. There was a
perverse motive in play, the more unmarked that
were caught and sent to the slaughter houses, the
lower the meat lottery quota. The people were too
scared to eat the sick, dying, or the dead of
unknown causes, because of contamination and
super bugs. Escape was not an option, the implant
tracked you, and when caught, you were assured
the longest, most painful death.
She said the attached "movie" was downloaded
from a pornographic web sight. The new entity
said that this was recorded through the brain
interface of a woman who was being processed.
This was a full sensory snuff film. The people
would pay to view this girls processing and see,
hear, and feel all her pain, and her fear, as if it was
happening to them, but they would not die or be
mutilated. I was warned that this was really
graphic.
The effect was much better than the previous
dreams. I was this girl, I saw, heard, felt, smelled,
and tasted everything as if this was my body. I
thought her thoughts, I felt her emotions, but I had
no control, this was a stored movie, not a video
game. I would experience her life, but I could not
change anything.
The story the entity played is described below, as
best I could.
The Conversion
Chapter 1
I arrived home at my apartment, after a long day
on the job. The grey haired and bespectacled,
superintendent, met me at the glass security door.
Hello dear, she said, greeting me with an
apologetic smile.
Hi June, I replied, intuitively noting Junes
expression. How was your day? she smiled,
glancing at the mail box.
Fine dear, was the response, as she held up a
handful of envelopes. I have your mail here. She
allowed her tenant to take it before continuing.
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there was
a special delivery today for you and I signed for it,
she waited as my eyes came to rest on the top
manila envelope. Its from the State Selection
Agency. She supplied as I began to comprehend
what she held in her hands.
Opening the envelope and unfolding the neatly
folded paper within, I scanned the top of it and my
eyes went wide. I gasped reading the top notation.
State Meat Selection Agency, Selection for
Conversion. My jaw dropped as I read further; it
was my name, my address, my social security
number. There was no mistake. I was ordered to
report for conversion, a manner of saying that my
designation had gone from being a woman to being
considered surplus, and now I was to be converted
to meat. It stunned me, an icy wave of fear and
panic swept over me, I knew mentally, that anyone
could be declared surplus by the state and sent to
slaughter, but I still didnt believe it would happen
to me. Should I run away?
Ive always thought you would make a beautiful
meal dear, June cooed, giving me an appraising
look and squeezing my arm.
Th-thanks, I stammered, still holding the letter. I
guess I should go get ready, I said, looking at the
elderly woman.
Certainly, Junes eyes followed my form as she
walked past me.
Oh; whos packing you? June called after me.
Oscar Meyer, I replied simply, half-turning to
speak to her. Im sure theyll do a fine job, they
specialize in packing women, now, June nodded
to herself, shuffling back into her apartment.
My keys jingled in the lock as I pushed the door
inward. The thought struck that this would be one
of the last times that I ever entered my home.
Kicking off my shoes and setting down my purse
on the entryway table, I strode into the interior of
the apartment. A long sigh escaped my lips as I
flopped into an armchair quickly flipping through
the remainder of my mail - not that it mattered
much. When I registered at 18, a sort of will had
been drawn up for this contingency; my things
would be taken care of. June would allow my
father into my apartment to do what was
necessary.
Among the rest of my mail was a flier for a grocery
store, a glaring reminder of my fate. It advertised a
sale on fillets for 11.99 a pound on the front page. I
sighed again, considering my own for a moment
and deciding to rise to check my body. Putting
down the mail, I trailed off into my bedroom to
strip and examine myself in the mirror.
I was attractive, slim with long subtle curves, taut
from almost daily work-outs at the gym. Teaching
aerobics on the side had kept me toned and in
shape. My pubic mound was smooth as I found
more men liked me that way, I fluttered my fingers
along my sex lips and found to my surprise that I
was, despite my new circumstances, just a little
damp. I recalled the stories of what it was like in a
factory from my days of college. Tales of earth-
shattering final orgasms, also tales of being
treated like property by emotionless workers. I
didnt know what to believe, sighing I lifted and
weighed my breasts, before letting them drop; pert
and well-formed I was not buxom like many women
strove to be.
Before I went to sleep, I remembered an
advertising ditty from long ago. Children were
singing: "I wish I was an Oscar Meyer wiener,
etc.". Now days, they would get their wish.
Chapter 2
I paid my fare, tipping the driver generously before
going to an outside door separate from the
packer's reception area. The door I stood at
displayed the rather unceremonious sign,
'receiving'. I glanced up to the enormous sign at
the driveway entrance and saw the Oscar Meyer
Logo, plastered over a plate of roasted fillet.
Turning my back on the sign, I went in.
The place was set up like a government license
bureau with multiple clerks working windows at a
long counter. There was a line up at the right to
the door that was pushing forward at a steady
pace, I was relieved I didn't have to wait too long.
The girls in the line were of various descriptions,
some lithe like me, others voluptuous, some
athletic, some tall, some short, white, black,
Asian, Hispanic, blonds, brunettes, red-heads, the
place didn't discriminate, I mused to herself.
Most were dressed nicely, some were elegant,
others were casual, I wore a more casual outfit of
a white tee and light blue mini skirt, white
stockings and light blue stiletto heels that brought
my height to almost to 6 feet and emphasized the
curves of my long legs. A part of me hoped that
how I was dressed would make some kind of
difference in my reception and treatment.
Moving up in line, I was met at one of the kiosks by
a middle-aged matronly looking woman, curly
haired and prim she asked for my conversion letter
and quickly received it. "You're Kim?" she asked,
looking at the form letter.
"Yes," I nodded, swallowing, studying my face with
curiosity, wondering how many girls she had to
keep track of through a day. She checked my
name, social security number and registration
number against a computer screen. "Alright,
you've come to the right place. Step back against
that screen and look at the red light of the
camera."
I complied immediately, stepping back as my
picture was snapped in two rapid flashes, from two
lenses. One focusing on my form the shoulders up
and the other the length of me.
The receptionist didn't bother to explain the
reason for the photographs, she just typed in a few
keys as the digital photos appeared on her
computer screen and handed me back my letter.
"Get in that line there and step up at to the first
available processor," she pointed to a line only a
few feet away, that lead up a set of stairs to
another desk. The women in line were chatting
quietly, the girl at the desk, a curvy, athletic blond
was undressing, depositing her coverings in
various hampers, shoes in one, lingerie in another
and her outer garments in a third.
I was forced to shift in my place in line and could
no longer see the top of the stairs where the
activity was going on, there was a whiff of cool air
and the smell of raw meat in the air every few
moments as I stepped up the stairs, my heels
clicking and scraping on each of their concrete
surfaces. I thought I could hear distant, muffled
screams, but the elevator music being played
covered them up. There was conversation among
the girls on how long it would take and what would
happen to them, speculation on how it would be
done and what grades they would each get. I
wasn't sure where I would end up or how long it
would take to get there.
I watched impassively as the girl in front of me
was processed. Petite and with sand colored hair,
she tried to guess where she would end up as she
stripped nude at the desk of the clerk closest to
her. I didn't have time to speculate very long as a
light appeared over a desk further along the line of
registration desks, signaling the desk was open to
process the next conversion, in this case, it was
me.
Walking past three other desks with girls before
them in various states of undress and conversion, I
looked at the face of the man behind the desk. He
was swarthy, middle-aged and slightly overweight,
wearing a navy uniform work shirt. I was on pins
and needles as he sat typing something into his
computer.
Barely looking up to acknowledge me, he held out
his hand, "Paper please."
I complied immediately placing it in his hand,
nibbling my lower lip nervously as I did so. I waited
as he worked, my heart speeding up, butterflies in
my stomach.
He scanned the registration number, typing it with
practiced dexterity on the computer's number pad.
"You're Kim?" he asked, looking at the digital
photos that came up and then up at me.
"Yes," I replied softly, my voice seeming to have
disappeared in my throat.
"By order of the state you are hereby converted,"
he announced to me without anymore ceremony
than to loudly stamp the letter I had presented him
and add it to a pile in box to be processed by some
other clerk. "Remove all clothing, and place them
in the hampers as labeled. Any jewelry give to me
and it will be sent back to any beneficiaries you
have on file."
He had a sheaf of manila envelopes on a shelf at
his desk, ready to be pulled out and stapled to my
form if need be. My eyes fluttered, the stamping
sound thundering in my ears, "Ok..." I replied
softly. Stepping out of my shoes I stood in my
stockings, the concrete cold on the soles of my
feet. I glanced around to see if anyone was paying
attention before I began by unbuttoning and
unzipping my skirt to let it slip down my sleek
thighs and shapely calves, before stepping out of it
and dropping it into the basket.
"Come on sow, we don't have all day. You're meat
now, no need for modesty," the man remarked
impatiently from the desk.
I froze in mid-step, my eyes going wide at being
called 'sow'. Had I gone to college and kept myself
in shape to end up as a sow? I caught my breath
and glanced sideways at the other women who
were hastily undressing and I mimicked them, my
other clothing quickly being drawn off and
deposited in the hampers.
I turned around, shivering with the cool and with
fear, my eyes wide as my hands fidgeted, unsure to
cover myself or not. My skin tingled with fear, but
he seemed preoccupied with matters before him
on the desk. I figured he probably saw so many
naked women in a day that I was like any other to
him. Plucking the earrings from my ears, I dropped
my hands to my sides, I waited for a few seconds
before he looked up at me.
Wordlessly, he took the earrings and dropped them
into an envelope and stapled it to my form before
he pressed the enter key on his console and there
was a quick buzzing sound as a number and code
was printed onto a plastic tag that dropped out a
slot from a press behind him.
Step up to the desk and turn to the left, the clerk
commanded; I promptly complied. He loaded the
yellow plastic tag into a piercing gun and placed it
to my right earlobe, with a click and a grunt of
discomfort from the girl converted to sow, a yellow
tag now hung from my ear. Feet in the two holes
sow, he commanded gruffly, as I, dumbly looked
to the floor. I looked at him wide eyed, before
obeying. I stepped down into two ankle deep holes
set in the floor. I struggled to keep my balance as I
stretched my legs out wide into two yellow colored
indentations on the floor which in fact were
pressure pads. After a few seconds, rubber lined
manacles closed on my slender ankles from the
sides of depressions with an audible click. My
legs quivered as the muscles strained to support
me.
I felt a hand on the back of my neck, compelling
my face downward. I realized, with sows on either
side of me in a similar position that he wanted me
in the lunette for inspection. I relented, bending at
the waist, my legs quivering to support and
balance me as my neck came to rest on the rubber
covered lunette. I cringed as its top was slammed
down with a clang. I caught my breath, realizing
my sex was now fully exposed. My mouth gaped
open as I tried calm myself, starring at the cinder
block wall in front of me, wondering what would
happen next.
Uh; I mewed softly, getting my answer, feeling a
cold metal instrument pressed against and through
my sex lips. The device made my heart flutter with
the cold that was now inside me. I realized it was
a speculum. Feeling them manipulated, I was pried
open, as an inspector stood behind me, gazing with
practiced eye inside me. I could hear his baritone
voice. "Healthy, good coloration, prime fillet."
The speculum was closed and pulled free without
ceremony. A hand was placed on my bottom; it
was neither sensual nor harsh, only clinical. It
squeezed and then tugged, before releasing.
"Good rump, well-formed."
Then the owner of the voice appeared in my view.
He was black, and shaved bald, he wore a white
smock over a white uniform beneath. His fingers
were on my lips, "Open," he commanded.
I breathed an assent that came out almost as mew
as he slipped two fingers into my mouth, running
them around the circumference of her lips,
checking my teeth and mouth. I felt like an animal
and realized that I was! His fingers were
withdrawn and he wrote with a stylus on a
wireless notepad. The hand slid under my chin,
feeling before tracing along my spine, before
reaching up and rising up along my satiny tummy.
The hand reached my breast, they pressed them
and rolled them, before finding a nipple. It was
tugged, I grunted, feeling something attached and
a soft suction. There was a gurgling sound, and I
tensed, my nose crinkled up as I grimaced at the
sensation. The same happened to my other breast.
I could feel the presence of the inspector, though I
could not see him, standing beside me. The suction
last less than 10 seconds, before the vacuum cups
were removed.
"Looks like this one's not a milker," he said to
someone else unseen.
"Too bad, we have room in the dairy for 3 more,"
another voice replied, as my eyes darted left to
right. I cursed my "b" cup breasts, wishing I was a
"c" or "d" or whatever it took.
"This one's good, grade A" the black inspector
said, a UPC scanning pen was pulled across me.
I felt a flicker of pride, then I grunted, feeling
something pressed against my left buttock.
"What's the routing on this sow?" he asked as I
listened, still bent over in the inspection station.
My heart trembled, I was still getting used to being
called 'sow'.
"They 'got tourist buses in this afternoon, the
restaurant needs roasters," the reply came as I
gasped, remembering a time when I had taken a
tour of Hills and what it meant for me.
"Damn tourists;" her inspector cursed. "Still, they
pay our Bobs."
"Looks like spitting bay 3 is opening up in a
minute," the other voice said. His announcement
eliciting another gasp from their sow. I was
already scared shit-less, like a prisoner on
execution day, I was just holding myself together. I
lost it. My body revolted, waves of panic and horror
swept over me. I heaved, convulsed, and pissed
myself. My sentence went from a quick death, to
torture and being burned alive.
Other sows lost it when their bush and other
coarse body hair was singed off by a laser shaver.
They hosed me off. "Ok, this one has been cleaned
and ready to go, I'll walk her through."
I felt the lunette around my neck release, a hand
roughly took my shoulder and pulled me upright,
the manacles around my ankles released and I was
allowed to stand upright, my legs trembling from
the strain of the inspection. I felt a little dizzy as
the blood ran from my head.
"Ok Jake, don't forget the poker game tonight," the
owner of the second voice said, his face finally
visible to me. He was older than my inspector, but
otherwise unremarkable.
"I'll be there," Jake said, taking hold of my elbow.
I was stunned that a poker game was more
important than me. I was to be tortured and burned
alive to be fed to tourists, so they would buy more
meat. There is no justice.
Chapter 3
"Ok sow, let's get you on the spit. It's my lunch
time soon," Jake said, directing me away the
inspecting area and through a doorway with a sign
reading 'spitting' over it.
My heart really began to race, and I was unsure
whether it was the cold concrete floor beneath my
bare feet that chilled me to the bone, or how real
my fate was becoming. I was so scared I was
shaking and my teeth chattered.
I allowed myself to be lead, like a scared dog,
trembling, my hands tied behind my back with
twine, to a work stall, a light, much like the one at
the station where I was converted, signaled it was
now available. They came to its opening and my
eyes widened, I froze in fright, my eyes darting
from a gleaming spitting machine, to the most
recent occupant. She was being lifted off the
machine, a long pole through her sex, stretching it.
The spit emerged through her full lips. Her belly
was distended and sewn up. Her breasts were
heavy and a stabilizer had been thrust inside her
between the curves of her round buttocks. She
glistened with perspiration. I was startled when I
looked into the blond's pained, pleading eyes and
recognized her from the line. She was quickly
carried past me, her flesh jiggling as she swayed.
My attention was drawn back to my own
predicament by the machine's operator.
"Ok Jake, bring that one in here. Let's do her
before the lunch whistle," the operator beckoned,
waving them in.
"Sure Bob," Jake said, giving me a push forward,
guiding me into the work station. "We'd hate to
leave her strapped to this thing over lunch."
I disagreed inwardly but said nothing, I shook with
icy fear, staring at the gleaming spitting machine
as I stepped forward to the center of the stall.
"Ok sow, put your feet on the marks," Bob directed
me as I placed my feet on a pair of yellow circles
painted on the concrete at end of the machine. I
glanced behind me at the racks of spits and the
motor that pushed them. Their gleaming presence
sent another chill through me. Turning, I regarded
the metallic monster and the padded rest for my
chest and neck as a button was pushed on a set of
controls hanging by a cord from the ceiling.
"Uh!" I grunted as a metal bar swung down from
behind my knees, knocking me forward onto pads
for my knees. The steel bar pressed firmly into soft
flesh above the curves of my calves and behind my
knees. It held me firm, locking in place as I
struggled to keep my balance. Seconds after a
second bar, less dramatic then the first, pressed
me forward with a padded roller. The fall forward
onto the chest rest left me breathless.
The pad separated my breasts as the two men
moved to secure me. I gurgled as a strap was
pulled across the back of my neck, stretching it
forward.
A second strap stretched across my upper back as
the bar that pressed me down pulled away, back to
its station in the ceiling.
Two more straps were wrapped about my legs,
encircling each of my thighs, just above the knee.
The straps tugged my thighs forward, pulling my
bottom open, exposing my sex and secret button
completely. I gasped and grunted feeling the
straps tug my legs. My eyes fluttered, feeling so
exposed, vulnerable, and scared of what was next,
even more than the inspection.
My sex dampened with the anticipation of the spit,
the stories of college coming back to mind as my
time drew near.
"Start the breast filling cycle," I heard the operator
command to her inspector, Jake.
"Right," came the reply.
Jake stepped up alongside of me, I could see him
out of the corner of my eye. There was the click of
a button being pushed then my breasts were taken
in the man's large hands. I felt a suction on my
nipple as what felt like milking tester was applied
to my nipple. It gurgled and then ended with a
'thunk' tugging at my nipple in its center. I felt the
operator's presence on the other side of me doing
the same. A second button was pushed and I let
out a groan of pain, wincing, feeling a sharp, hot
pain press through my nipples into my breasts.
There was a click followed by a sound of an
electric motor as my breasts began to heat up,
being filled with heated butter and seasoning.
They grew heavy and full, stretching until they
hung plump. The machine seemed to have a built in
gauge and stopped automatically. The needles
were withdrawn and hands gave me test squeezes,
forcing a few droplets of butter from my nipples. I
moaned, my breasts were tender and swollen.
I gasped, my mood shifting rapidly as my eyes
went wide with realization.
Ok, load a number 2, Bob directed as Jake
disappeared from my view.
The tall black man went to a rack of spits on the
wall, gazing them for only a moment before
selecting one, its well used surface was polished
from cleaning but hardly new. It clanged as he
dropped it into place behind my protesting form
and into the spit driver, readying it to auger
through its next job.
Ready, Jake acknowledged the operator.
Right, Bob replied, pressing a button on control
box as the spit began first to spin, whirring in
place before, it began to advance, with measured
clicks, each one punctuated by a few seconds of
time to allow the machine to bore through quickly
and cleanly. I, its target attempted to squirm in my
bonds but could do nothing to stop the coming
spitting.
It was not long I felt the cold hard tip of the spit
touch my warm open lips.
I sobbed, catching my breath, my eyes going wide
at the queer spinning sensation, pressing into me,
the spinning vibrating my sex lips, and my body.
The men watched as the large metal shaft moved
relentlessly forward. Slowly stretching this sow's
hole wider than any cock I had ever had.
I held my breath, trying to pull away from the
pointed tip, feeling it pressing inside me, the cold
surface rolling and stroking the sides of my sex
lips. Unsuccessfully I willed it out of myself, my
labia wrapping around it, grasping it as it entered
my warm meat.
There was a squishing sound as it pressed inwards
and a tell tale sign of excessive moisture
collecting where the shaft penetrated. "ughhh..." I
groaned, my eyes open wide, feeling as if my sex
was about to split.
"OK, starting gutting cycle," Bob stated, watching
with practiced eye as the spit augured in.
Oh shit, I gasped, I am going to be gutted like a
fish. There was a sharp snapping sound as the
button released a short, stubby, and very sharp
blade from the housing between my breasts. I felt
a sudden pain as it bit below my breast bone.
Simultaneously the shaft shuttered as it met some
resistance at the back of my womb, it stopped
moving forward spinning in place. I grimaced,
letting out a cry from the sharp blade, the
stretching of my sex, and the constant pressure of
the spit.
I screamed as the sharp pain under my chest
suddenly moved in a straight line down my flat
tummy to the top of my venus mound, pressing and
separating the flesh in one motion. My faced
screwed up with question, a deep pain sensation
struck me, the sound of what seemed to be wet
rags hitting the metal tray beneath me. I shrieked
again as each organ was cut away, I felt a deep,
burning, cutting pain, like a hot poker, and smelled
burning flesh. I would never drink, eat, pee, or shit
again. Even if I was rescued, I would not be able to
live long. But, I could breathe and was still alive. I
felt a sudden chill as Bob spoke.
"OK, she's emptying
out real good. Just
another second." My
internal organs slid
down the disposal
chute beneath me
disappearing into a
revolving hatch. He
motioned to Jake to
take hold of a hose,
rolled up on the stall's wall.
"Right. Insert cleaning tube."
I felt something hard and thin slide into my anus
and grunted. There was a sound of rushing water
and a cool in my midsection; then sound of water
pinging against metal.
I was panting with fear my heavy breasts jostling,
feeling the chill go completely through me.
"OK, done, get it moving again'," Jake said to Bob,
pulling the hose free of my bottom. Bob nodded,
gripping the box and restarting the spit's motion
forward. With a click and a sharp pain, it punctured
my abdominal wall, started moving through my
empty belly.
I whined as my body shuddered from the spit's
push. A tear ran down my flushed cheek.
"OK I see it moving in the stomach cavity. You can
seal 'er up now, Jake said, kneeling beside me and
gazing up at my open abdomen.
Bob manipulated the controls again as the housing
released a second instrument that made a hundred
piercings from a curved needle along my belly and
a string pulled through as I was sewn shut. He
noticed my tear. "Don't worry sow, we'll have you
on the coals in no time." He chuckled at his self-
imagined wit. He watched as the needle completed
it's work, and tugging and stitching, the spit
pressing on.
"OK. She closed. Fill 'er"
"Right," Jake responded, there was steady 'ca-
chucking of a pump operating. I felt something
being pumped in again through my anus; that
wasn't water, something heavier. I felt it in the
bottom of my hollow belly, straining against the
stitches. The stinging pain along my tummy was
like acid being poured into my open wounds. I
almost passed out.
I was being stuffed.
Bob watched as the spit spun up the back of my
throat as my belly's stitching strained with the
stuffing. "Any last words sow?" he asked.
I felt my head swim, the spit pressing up through
my throat, I looked up to see Bob standing over
me.
"Any second now," Jake murmured, his hand
cupping the underside of my chin. He watched as
my lips slowly parted and the tip of the spit
protruded, pressing it's way out as my lips sealed
around it, cleaning it's silvery surface as I tasted
steel on my tongue.
I stared at the silvery shaft, having a hard time
believing that I was spitted and still alive. My
flushed skin glowed with perspiration as the spit
finally came to a stop, fully through my trembling
form. It was hard to breath with this pole in my
throat.
"Almost, done," Bob murmured, motioning to Jake.
"OK, let's get the anal stabilizer in."
The filling tube was pulled from my winking anus, a
bit of stuffing leaking out and dribbling down over
my stretched sex.
Seconds later there was the sound of metal
scraping along metal setting their teeth on edge as
a large rod was pushed into the weeping Junette
of my anus
"There we're done." Bob, nodded releasing the
straps from my spitted body. I blinked, feeling my
twitching legs being tied to the back of the spit
rod. Then sharp pains as I was pierced by a rod
between each of my ankles and calves.
I heard a voice at the opening of the work stall
behind me, "You guys ready yet?" Then Jake
replying, "Yeah, this sow is going to the coals right
now" I felt myself being lifted by the rod, I was
meat hanging from it. I could not bend my body or
move my head, it was perfect bondage from the
inside. The jostling caused the burning pain in my
tummy to throb.
I continued to perspire, straining to hear anything
that might be said, My face stretched by the pole
parting my lips. The men turned me toward the
stall's opening, there was another attendant
standing there, holding a trembling nude sow, her
gaze fixed in horror at my spitted body. I returned
her gaze, blinking, remembering the girl that had
been spitted before me.
My body jostled with each step, my breasts
swaying from side to side, heavy with the buttery
filling. They carried me down a corridor towards a
door with the sign 'Roasting Grotto' over the
frame.
Chapter 4
"Alright everyone;" the tour guide began,
clambering back onto the bus. "I got us three
sows," he said, looking down at the photocopies
on his clipboard of three separate profiles. "Two
whites and an Asian. I'll hand out their pictures
profiles and pictures as you get off the bus. Let me
know if you have any preferences, but the
restaurant hostess assures me that they are all
equally delicious. I think they're just getting them
ready to put on the coals now. We have numbers
980, 987, and 989; we can see them put on and
after we're done the tour they'll be ready. It's cool
in parts of the plant so please remember your
sweaters and jackets," he suggested. "Any
questions?" He scanned the crowd of an
enthusiastic faces and saw a hand shot up.
"Who gets the fillets?" a pasty faced fat man
asked.
"We'll be drawing for them," the guide chuckled as
the tour group began to file off beside him.
"Remember everyone stick together!" he directed
over the din as cameras were checked and
sweaters and jackets were folded over arms.
* * *
There was the smell of meat cooking on the air,
and it was heavenly.
I realized with horror that I was enjoying the smell
as it brought me back to roasts and meals I had
been to and soon that it would be the scent of my
meat on the air. The door opened to the Roasting
Grotto and revealed rows of sows turning over
beds of coals. Some were violently squirming;
others were a calm brown, dripping on the coals.
Along one side was an observation deck where
tourists looked down as I, a fresh, naked sow, was
carried along below them. I could hear their voices
as I saw the spitted meat, knowing my own skin
would soon begin to brown up like theirs.
"Mommy is that our
pig?" One little girl
cried. "I think so
honey, the man said
our sows going to be
put in number 17"
The mother replied
looking at my ear
tag. "Yes, that one's
ours." "Our piggy
looks really good. I hope I win the draw!" They
could see my enlarged breasts, my swollen belly.
"Me too Hun," her mother commented, stroking her
hair gently.
The comments shook me as I tried to emphasize
that I still lived, blinking my eyes, wiggling my toes
and fingers, feeling the twine around the wrists
and ankles keeping me from doing more.
I was carried past several numbered roasting pits
before they came to one labeled 'Number 17'.
"Here it is Jake,"
Bob said. He turned
to a nearby group of
attendants, "Hey get
this one out of
here," he gestured
with a pointing
finger to the golden
brown sow, turning
peacefully over the
coals. Two men hurried over immediately, gripping
the spit in thick mittens and lifting it off. I was face
to face with the roasted sow, it stared blankly
back at me, steam escaping from around the spit
protruding from its mouth.
I shook inwardly, my fate finally hitting me fully.
The sounds of the popping and hissing from
drippings hitting the coals around me, resounded
in my ears. I could hear tourists chattering away
above me.
A man in a chef's hat entered my vision.
"Hold on boys, let me baste this sow," he directed
plopping a mop into bucket and slathering sauce
on my helpless body. He pressed it between my
legs and over my face, I felt the mop slap against
my clitoris, the excess running off my curves.
I could smell garlic and spices, realizing I was
being seasoned as food. I could feel the slimy
mixture drip off me, my button quivering against
the spit and the mop top.
"There you go little pig, you will taste so good with
my special sauce," the attendant said, dropping
the mop back into the bucket. Taking a pair of
cutters, he cut the plastic tag from my ear. "There
you are. You are now longer a sow, you are now
meat. Put it on the fire boys;" he ordered, striding
away, pushing the wheeled bucket of sauce.
I heard the word 'meat' and it shook me. I did not
have time to consider the words as I was jostled,
wincing at the hard metal bumped through me. I
cringed feeling the heat grow close. My eyes
fluttered with fear that stared straight ahead with
disbelief as the men positioned me over the fire.
That was the sound of metal clanging against
metal as the ends of the spit dropped into the
uprights. A gear was attached to the rod and I felt
herself start to turn. Jake and Bob turned without
a second glance to go back to the factory floor and
continue their days.
Waves of heat
welled up, snapping
at me like a hungry
beast. I remembered
getting burned
before by picking up
hot pots or holding
my hand too long
over a fire. This was
worse, and now it
was all over me. The basting stuff stung my eyes.
I drew in deep breaths, as best I could, my nostrils
flaring, filling my lungs with super-heated air. My
belly wounds stung with each breath, as I
squirmed, and as I turned. As I turned, I could see
a sow next to me squirming on her spit but losing
her battle with the fire.
As my stomach rolled to the ceiling and the heat
reddened my backside, I could see a little girl next
to her mother pointing excitedly at her. I knew that
their teeth would soon be devouring my cooked
flesh. Little girl; in a few years, you to may be on
this spit.
I was meat now, no one would help me.
It was so hot, like hundreds of red hot pokers
touching me at random. I could not scream. I
writhed in pain, wiggling and squirming against the
pain and my bonds. I thought about what was next.
After I died, where would my soul go? I was afraid
that I might land in Hell and have this pain go on
for all eternity. First there was the searing pain
like being scalded, then parts of outer exposed
skin went numb but others continued to hurt. A
deeper pain started and it was harder to move
because my muscles ached. I felt hot inside, like
with a high fever and felt so dry I was dizzy. Then
some muscles no longer responded. Breathing was
getting even harder with this rod in my mouth. The
hot air seared my lungs and smoke made me feel
like I was having an asthma attack. As I strained
to catch my breath, my mind went crazy with all
kinds of irrational thoughts.
The fire did it's work. I could feel myself
transforming, my conversion nearing completion. I
lost all feeling in my arms and legs. I could see the
smiling faces of the tourists as I turned from pink
to red, to golden, the taste of the sauce on my lips
letting me know what they would be getting.
I could hear my heart in my ears, and the sounds of
sizzling, realizing it was the butter filling in my
breasts. It spattered and hissed on the coals
below as it leaked and dripped from my roasted
breasts. I felt a pang in my side as a chef stood
over me with a long meat fork.
"Number 17 is cooking nicely," he commented,
basting me again before walking away.
My eyes squinted with some "stinging stuff"
getting in my eyes and I could not remove it. I was
hearing him walk away on the tiled floor but I was
having a hard time hearing anyone or anything
now. I was now roast 17, one of 24, my breaths
fewer and fewer, smaller and smaller, my sight
failing. I passed out.
I was outside her body, now. She stared straight
ahead, not hearing anymore, not seeing anymore,
not feeling anymore, peacefully turning over the
coals; she had become meat, a roast sow. Hours
later she would be served to the tourists.
I felt death, pain, terror, and suffering that few
actually live to recount to others. It seemed so
real, I was really on that spit. It was more than a
nightmare, and I could not just wake up, until it
was finished. Now it was over, I was shaking, I had
a severe headache, I also felt sick deep in my
stomach. At least I still had my guts. The people of
this age must be really corrupt if they actually
enjoyed this.
This was the worst nightmare I ever had, but I also
awoke turned on, with passion flowing through my
body, I was hot. I was ashamed of myself. I did not
want to write this and it may remain in a secret
place. Was the dream a vision? It was real, to me.
The last dream.
Warning: This is not for the faint of Heart or
Stomach.
I again dreamed about the future. This time it was
beyond the outline of the previous dreams. This
was years later. A different entity, a female one
came to me. She told me that the previous entity
"the inventor", not the computer, was processed
into meat years before when he refused the
implant and she was his daughter. She had
escaped to a more primitive area. She was
continuing the tale and was reusing her fathers
bio-computer equipment. She knew it was only a
short time before she would be taken. She wanted
to verify her fathers work and send some eye
witness data to prove it.
The situation had gotten worse. There were no
longer enough criminals, unbelievers, and
unmarked, caught to satisfy the hungry population.
The strategy had to be changed. The population
was informed of the source of the meat, the
concentration camps were closed, and the
equipment was moved to the cities' abandoned
factories.
The hungry people were so glad to eat, that they
really did not care who it was. A meat lottery was
setup, similar to the ancient Draft Boards.
Everybody of a certain age and of good health was
forced to register and selections were made by
lottery and how vital they were to the economy.
The rich and important were exempt. The women
were selected more than men. There was a
perverse motive in play, the more unmarked that
were caught and sent to the slaughter houses, the
lower the meat lottery quota. The people were too
scared to eat the sick, dying, or the dead of
unknown causes, because of contamination and
super bugs. Escape was not an option, the implant
tracked you, and when caught, you were assured
the longest, most painful death.
She said the attached "movie" was downloaded
from a pornographic web sight. The new entity
said that this was recorded through the brain
interface of a woman who was being processed.
This was a full sensory snuff film. The people
would pay to view this girls processing and see,
hear, and feel all her pain, and her fear, as if it was
happening to them, but they would not die or be
mutilated. I was warned that this was really
graphic.
The effect was much better than the previous
dreams. I was this girl, I saw, heard, felt, smelled,
and tasted everything as if this was my body. I
thought her thoughts, I felt her emotions, but I had
no control, this was a stored movie, not a video
game. I would experience her life, but I could not
change anything.
The story the entity played is described below, as
best I could.
The Conversion
Chapter 1
I arrived home at my apartment, after a long day
on the job. The grey haired and bespectacled,
superintendent, met me at the glass security door.
Hello dear, she said, greeting me with an
apologetic smile.
Hi June, I replied, intuitively noting Junes
expression. How was your day? she smiled,
glancing at the mail box.
Fine dear, was the response, as she held up a
handful of envelopes. I have your mail here. She
allowed her tenant to take it before continuing.
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there was
a special delivery today for you and I signed for it,
she waited as my eyes came to rest on the top
manila envelope. Its from the State Selection
Agency. She supplied as I began to comprehend
what she held in her hands.
Opening the envelope and unfolding the neatly
folded paper within, I scanned the top of it and my
eyes went wide. I gasped reading the top notation.
State Meat Selection Agency, Selection for
Conversion. My jaw dropped as I read further; it
was my name, my address, my social security
number. There was no mistake. I was ordered to
report for conversion, a manner of saying that my
designation had gone from being a woman to being
considered surplus, and now I was to be converted
to meat. It stunned me, an icy wave of fear and
panic swept over me, I knew mentally, that anyone
could be declared surplus by the state and sent to
slaughter, but I still didnt believe it would happen
to me. Should I run away?
Ive always thought you would make a beautiful
meal dear, June cooed, giving me an appraising
look and squeezing my arm.
Th-thanks, I stammered, still holding the letter. I
guess I should go get ready, I said, looking at the
elderly woman.
Certainly, Junes eyes followed my form as she
walked past me.
Oh; whos packing you? June called after me.
Oscar Meyer, I replied simply, half-turning to
speak to her. Im sure theyll do a fine job, they
specialize in packing women, now, June nodded
to herself, shuffling back into her apartment.
My keys jingled in the lock as I pushed the door
inward. The thought struck that this would be one
of the last times that I ever entered my home.
Kicking off my shoes and setting down my purse
on the entryway table, I strode into the interior of
the apartment. A long sigh escaped my lips as I
flopped into an armchair quickly flipping through
the remainder of my mail - not that it mattered
much. When I registered at 18, a sort of will had
been drawn up for this contingency; my things
would be taken care of. June would allow my
father into my apartment to do what was
necessary.

The Last Dream

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The Last Dream

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The last dream.

Warning: This is not for the faint of Heart or

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