Help Meet (A Dystopian Tale, Part 4)

Amy’s hunger is insatiable. Brian and John work constantly to quench her hunger. Finally, driven by exhaustion, they bring in some friends to help.

(Author’s note: I highly recommend reading the first three parts so this makes more sense.)

Shivering, I hesitate at the back doorway. John is waving me in, stepping aside to give me leave to enter the little cabin. I ascend the two rickety steps and enter the lighted room. Four strange men are sitting around a table. There are cards laid out, and half-empty glasses of beer. Brian is standing by the bed and beckons me over.

“I see what you mean,” the tallest man says. “She is quite a prize at that, but why not harvest her?  Look at that ass, and those thighs!  That’s a lot of prime meat standing there.”

“You’ll see,” Brian says. At his gesture I lay on the bed. He shackles my ankles, then stands on a chair to run ropes through two rings on the ceiling.

“The thing is, Gentlemen.”  John reseats himself and downs his shot of Jack Daniels, “She is pregnant. So very soon we’ll have our own supply of milk right here. But what’s more, this girl takes pleasing men to a whole new level. We called you all here because we need your help!”

“Yes!” Brian pulls at the ropes, spreading my legs wide and lifting them high.

The men stare curiously over at me. “How so?” Another man asks. “She looks like any other pain-in-the-ass female to me.” This one is shorter than the rest, and completely bald.

“Well,” Brian draws out the word. “Let’s just say she’s single-handedly worn us out. We can’t keep up with her. Believe me, we’ve tried!”

“She’s also very deep,” John added. “I mean like very deep, like I can get in two inches past my wrist bone here.

“So, what do you want?” the tallest man asked. “You want us to fuck her?”

“Fuck her, fist her, do whatever you please, Gentleman, short of torture or taking her life. I would like to keep her for her milk once her baby comes.” John picks up a book by a nearby dilapidated chair and flips it open. “The breast of the human female has the most potential for significant milk production than any other member of the great ape family. When properly administered, human grade Somatotropin doubles the female’s capacity to produce, and in some cases triples the production where treatment is started before the age of ten. Did you hear that, boys? For a girl her age it can double at least!” John snaps the book shut and tosses it on the chair.

Another man, the youngest one of the group and very handsome, makes a face. “I can go my entire life and not have milk. It’s disgusting. You are literally drinking mucus.”

John snorts. “You don’t like cheese on your pizza, Tim?”

The tallest man sips at his beer. “Tell you the truth, I’d much rather have Brian here show me his technique when it comes to skinning. I hear tell of it in town, always whispered in awed voices. I’d really like to see him in action. You have this girl, so why not?”

John pours himself another shot and gulps it down. “Sorry, our Amy here is off limits. But Brian, why not show him with the new girl? It’ll save us from having to fatten her up.”

The bald man blinks at this, as if just waking up from a long sleep. “Wait, you have a second girl you haven’t processed? I always thought . . . what was it you liked to say, Brian? Get the job done right, and all the way or you don’t sleep?”

Brian nods. “She’s very skinny, Chet. Hasn’t eaten for weeks, except for maybe berries. We were going to try to put some meat on her first. But I suppose . . .”

“Oh, just get it done, Brian.” John’s words are slurred as he stares at his glass. “Think for a moment. It’s a chance for her to be useful.”

“Gentlemen,” Brian strides purposely to the door. Instead of just the tall man following, all four men jump to their feet and hurry out to watch. Helplessly I look at John.

“He was going to show me how he does the breasts,” I complain. “So, I can help next time.”

John moves to sit between my legs. He pats my thigh, smiling drunkenly at me. “Maybe next time.” He separates my folds, drying them carefully before pinning them open with duct-tape. “Don’t worry. They’ll be back soon. Brian doesn’t mess around.”

I sulk as John eases three fingers inside me. He stirs my soft flesh, the liquid sounds from my vagina loud in the room. I hear a startled scream outside, and the noise of a scuffle. She’s fighting them, I realize, though I cannot see a thing through the small dirty window. Then comes two hard cracks, followed by silence.

“Why’d you do that?” A man’s voice asks. “Those are her brains on the ground, for god’s sake.”

“I know, but I slit the throat anyway,” Brian replies, his voice muted through the door. “Same steps every time. Can’t hurt to be thorough. Normally I’d hang the meat at this point and let it drain. But for you, we’ll skin it first.”

The men are speaking quietly, the occasional note of admiration creeping into their tone. Then the tall man barges into the cabin holding a large metal tub in his hands.

“On the counter,” John instructs. “Put some foil over it, will you, to keep out the flies?” John slides a fourth finger inside me, rotating his hand gently back and forth. The man jerks to a stop on his way out, staring at me on the bed.

“You can work on her at a time like this?”

John blinks and looks up. “A time like what?”

The tall man stares a moment longer. Then with a shrug, he stomps out the door.
John uses both hands now, his fingers spreading my exposed cunt wide. “They’re working on their girl,” he mutters. “And I’m working on mine. Now, Amy. Here’s a taste of what you want. There’ll be more, I promise. We’ll have your pussy so sore by the morning you won’t be able to walk.”

I smile, my hips squirming at the thought. My heavy breasts sway with the motion, the lamplight glinting on my hard nipples.

I moan as John’s hand works itself deeper. The knuckles drag to a stop far within, the fingers widening, separating. He turns his hand and I feel the fingertips drumming me lightly within, caressing up and down my slippery walls. Idly he explores me inside, finding my cervix and tracing its shape.

“If I could fit through this I’d be in your womb,” John breathes in a husky voice. “I wonder if we could. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Licking my lips, I nod.

“You know I saw something once in the barn on the hill. We were all busy fisting a girl, taking turns, dragging it out. Then one of us took a little knife inside her with his hand. Next thing you know there’s blood pouring from her cunt, and she’s fighting us and screaming. We all hold her down, while Fred—that was his name, if I do recall—removes his hand and sets down the knife. Then he sinks in deep, right up to his elbow. We could see his hand moving inside her under her skin. She starts choking and blood comes pouring from her mouth as her eyes roll back. Then Fred is pulling at something deep within, moving his hand like he’s fishing for something. He starts jerking with his hand, and pulling.

“Oh,” I moan, playing with my clit. I undulate against John’s hand, forcing him deeper.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” John says with a smile. “Trouble is, it would be the last fisting you’d ever get. We watched Fred pull out her guts through her vagina. The intestines came first, with gushes of blood—lots and lots of glistening intestine, then everything else that was attached.”

“Mmm.” I am panting at the thought, and John laughs.

“You are one crazy girl,” he says through his mirth. “You really do like this though, don’t you?  Brian told me you enjoyed penetration more than anything, but I thought maybe you were going along in hopes to escape us somehow.”

Panting, I clutch at the mattress, my eyes half shut. “Will they be here, soon?” I manage to ask.

“Who?  Oh, you mean the men?  Yes, I’m sure they’re finishing up. John leans forward, his elbows grinding into my breasts as he meets my gaze. “Tell you what, dear Amy. When the day comes that your milk runs dry, I promise you—that is how we’ll do it for you, too. I’ll tell Brian. This way you can look forward to your death, and not fear it. Just think. The deepest fisting ever.”

I smile. I am listening hard to John, but also to the sounds from outside the cabin. The yard is eerily silent, with only the occasional murmurs from the men.

John inserts his hand sideways, fingers from his other hand stretching my opening to accommodate his knuckles. “He’s probably done by now,” he says. “I know Brian. He is famous for his skills. There, hear that squeak of the rope? He’s hanging the meat so it can drain.”

I try to relax as John pushes deep, his tilted knuckles pressing me out. The blood-spattered men file in through the doorway and together in a group, they head for the tiny bathroom. They take turns washing their hands, several talking in low voices.

“You can discuss whatever it is in front of Amy,” John calls. “I assure you, she’s cool with it.”

The tall man eyes the table. “You didn’t fuck with my cards, did you?”

“I did not, Larry,” John replies. He withdraws his hand and raises it dripping for the men to observe. “As you can see, I’ve been hard at work here.”

“Your friend is skilled.” Another man says. I glance at his face. It is the handsome young man I’d seen before. Twenty-something, I silently guess.

“Girl is almost as challenging as rabbit to skin, or at least that’s what I find. Especially the breasts and the genital area. Brian didn’t tear her once. Just a nice even job.”

“Too starved to get much meat from that carcass though.” Larry gripes. “Too skinny to eat. Too bony to fuck.”

“So, let’s make introductions,” John says as the other two men seat themselves at the table. He nods to me. “Amy, my dear, this is Larry, the tall one who talks a lot. And the boy next to him is Tim. A good-looking lad, isn’t he?”

I look at the younger man and smile.

“The bald guy is Chet,” John continues. “And—”

“I’m Scott,” the fourth man says.  He licks his lips as John cleans my pussy with a cloth.

“So how do we play cards John, with this huge distraction lying there?” Larry asks. “Or is that how you plan to get our money? My God, she’s got a set of tits!”

“Yes, she does,” John says. “And her vagina is very deep, and wet. We rarely need to use lube with her. So how about we play cards and work on her at the same time? Or we work her over, and then play cards? Then maybe work some more once we’re done?”

“That suites me just fine.” Chet scoots back his chair and moves to stand beside me. I look up at him demurely, arching my back to thrust out my breasts. “Oh my God, what a little hussy.”

Brian enters the cabin and moves at once to wash his hands. “You going first, Chet?” he calls from the bathroom.

John is smiling at the bald man, nodding encouragement. “Go for it!”

Chet eyes my raised pelvis and spread legs. He reaches for the bottle of lube, spreading it thickly over his arm. I raise my chin, feeling his fingers penetrating my ass. I try to relax, turning my head to stare at the tree shaped splotch on the wall beside me. The bald man is skilled at this. He takes his time, graduating from one finger to two, then four, as he slowly rotates. He wraps his arm around my lower body, holding me still as he applies more pressure. There is a sudden give and he slides a bit deeper. I feel him rotating inside me, moving in and almost out. His other hand stretches my anus, pulling my opening at different angles. The fingers press once more with firmer pressure. Then all at once, his entire hand slides in.  He turns his hand downward into a dive, his elbow sinking slowly out of sight behind my breasts.  I feel the arm turning within me, the soft give as it pushes deeper.

“Nice,” John says from the table. “Can you go further?  I wasn’t sure she’d tolerate it. We’ve never tried anal on her.”

Chet moves his arm again, his hand feeling inside me, like five little butterflies fluttering within. He nods and furrows his brow, the hand pushing in another inch.”  “To my elbow!” Chet exclaims.  “Look at that!”

“You just curled your fingers!” Tim exclaims. “That’s cheating.”

“I did not!”

My eyes are closed in concentration, my lips parted. The pressure of the arm presses deep within my body, the feeling of being filled up is intoxicating, and I want to back into the arm, work it deeper into me. But the ropes on my legs prevent me.

“She’s wanting more depth!” Chet remarks. “God, she’s like a little oven. I can feel her heartbeat.”

“She wants a good fisting,” Brian said. “Not just the anal. Maybe . . .”  He looks over at Tim. “You want to help him with that?  We can wait.”

“No, we can watch,” Larry says, the tall man standing again from his chair.  The three other men cluster around at the foot of the bed as Tim sets up position, reaching over Chet’s head.

“You stay in her, now.”  John calls from his chair as he pours himself a shot. “Chet, she’ll get angry if you take out your arm. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Work around Tim.”

I raise my hips, my hands gripping the mattress as Tim gropes inside my cunt, his fingers reaching in, his two hands spreading the opening firmly as, squinting, he peers inside.

Brian is standing at his back. “Give her a taste first. I’m serious,” he adds when Tim looks up. “You won’t be sorry.”

Tim nods and pulls me wider almost to the point of tearing. Tears leak over my cheeks at the pain as he leans down, his tongue tentatively tracing the rim of my strained opening. He pauses, then smiles up at Brian. “I see what you mean,” he says with a laugh. Then his breath is on my cunt as he drives his tongue inside. I arch my back, feeling the young man sucking me hard, his tongue swirling inside me, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He sits back and wipes his mouth. “Damn, she’s good!”

Brian laughs. “Like caviar almost.”

“Almost,” Tim agrees. “Though I can’t really see putting this on crackers.” He’s sliding in his fingers, his wrist rotating back and forth.

“Now I want to taste her,” Chet complains.

“We all do,” Scott laughs.

“We have all night, Gentlemen,” John slurs from the table. “Now let the man work, for Christ’s sake.”

Tim smiles as the men step back to allow him room. I am staring at the ceiling, undulating my hips as Tim works in his hand. He pauses up shallow, fingers from his other hand curling under my cunt’s upper wall. He bears downward hard to the point it hurts me, the muscles of my lower wall straining, sharp pains running through my groin. He throws his weight sideways and repeats the hard stretch, then leans to the opposite side and bears down.  “Does she do double?” he pants at his rapt audience. “I think she does.”  Grinning up at the men, he entwines the fingers of his both hands together, then rotates them hard into my flesh as he angles down.

“I can do double,” John is saying. “But not Brian. It’s—”  He breaks off.  Leaving the table, he stops behind Tim to watch. “That’s too rough. You’re hurting her.”

“Do you think I care?” Tim retorts. “This pleases me, and that’s all that matters.”

I scream as the two hands push and rotate. There is no concern on Tim’s face for the fact that it hurts me. He is rigidly fixed on his purpose—on his hands he crams inside. I force myself to breathe slowly through my nose as I fight to relax, then exhale gradually from my mouth. Tim’s hands are larger than John’s, but the stretching of my muscles feels painful, and yet amazing. My eyes go wide as I start to grin, the hands are mashing me inside, taming the muscles that always get in John’s way. Tim pushes in hard all at once, like a battering ram slamming against my cervix.

“Ha!” Tim cries. Then he heaves himself back, the knuckles dragging at the flesh of my passage. He gathers force in his shoulders, then pounds into me fast. He finds his rhythm after two more powerful strokes, and I am balling my fists in the mattress, my hips rising to meet every thrust.  I cry and scream, and thrash where I lay, my cunt loose around the hands and receptive, opening wide to receive him. The hand in my ass slides deep as Tim’s knuckles hit my cervix, then pulls upward as Tim draws out. Larry kneels beside the bed and reaches over my leg, his fingers curling just inside, gaping my entrance to give Tim more room. Tim nods his gratitude as he lunges and pulls, sweat dripping down his face. The pressure is building inside, and I arch my spine. With a furious scream I shower the two men between my legs.

They are laughing as they back their way out. I am squirting the air rhythmically, my muscles spasming hard around my pussy. Tim stares at his hand, the fluid dripping down his fingers. “Damn,” he says. “You’re right, John. She’s way too good to kill.”

“Anything else will seem boring to her now,” Larry complains. He sits between my legs, fingering my twitching vagina. He leans in close and takes a lick, his fingers gliding inside my cunt to part the loosened tissue. Leisurely he cleans me out, cocking his head as his tongue explores. He pauses to grin at his friends. “I could do this all night. I really could.”

“I know,” Brian says. “And sometimes I do.”

“Almost every night,” John says. “She falls asleep long before he is done.”

Tim is sitting at the table, furiously drawing on a piece of paper. His expression curious, John drifts over and peers down. I lean my head back. Larry is teasing my clit, his fingertips pressing on either side as he runs his tongue slowly up and down.

“You’re drawing her pussy?”  John’s face goes red with suppressed laughter.  “That’s a pussy, isn’t it?”

Tim nods as he works. “It’s supposed to be. I was very thorough feeling her out. Let me see your hands.”

I am moaning softly, not hearing the rest of the conversation. Larry is dining leisurely between my legs, his fingers reaching in past his tongue and circling repeatedly.  Chet is standing to one side, drying his arm with a towel.

“I know we can,” Tim says loudly. “No look.” He thumps his drawing with his fist. “If you go in like you normally do two-handed, then I slide in from underneath.”

“Maybe after she has the baby,” John says. “I don’t want to ruin her.”

“Ruin her? She’s young. She’ll snap right back. They always do.”

Larry raises his head, smacking his lips.  I start as a knee knocks me against my ribs. Then Scott is straddling my stomach, his flat palms pressing down on my breasts. He kneads two handed, first one and then the other, his mouth lowering to suck my hard nipple. I am groaning as Larry twists in his hand. His method is slow compared to Tim’s, his touch gentle as he eases through my layers one by one, pushing them back, then slipping in further. He finds the rear wall of my vagina closest to my anus, his hand rotating into the softness and pressing it out. “So much room right here,” he murmurs. “And so wet!” He slides in again, and twists his arm, his eyes closed as he gropes inside me, wet sounds filling the little room. Scott, looking annoyed, climbs off me and moves to the table.

“I could cut off those tits of hers and she wouldn’t even notice,” he tells the other men. “It’s all the interior stuff for her. That’s what she wants.”

“She’ll suck your cock for you,” Brian tells him. “Maybe not now, but once we’ve finished.”

I thrust my hips upward, begging Larry to find my core. Instead, the tall man fists at a sharp downward angle, as if questing for my anus through the wall of my vagina. I grind my teeth as he swishes his hand back and forth, then draws out quickly, his hand dripping fluids. “This, Gentlemen, is truly the nectar of the gods!”

“That’s it.” Chet shoves him out of the way and kneels between my spread legs. “Don’t you worry, dear girl,” he addresses me directly. “I’ll fist your cunt hard the way you want. But I have to taste this for myself.”

The men fall silent as they return to their chairs. Brian passes out beer, while John pours them a whisky.  Chet slides in his hand, angling down and in. I gasp as the hand buries itself fully. It rises inches from the surface, then plunges back deep. Chet climbs to his feet and fists straight down from above, his free hand stretching the lower wall of my opening as he works, wetting his fingers, then curling them in. He pulls hard at my lower wall, bearing down to elongate my opening. There is pain again, my tissues strained to the point of tearing. Then all at once, Chet yanks out his hand. He sinks down, pressing his hands on either side of my pussy, massaging my mound as he enters with his tongue.

Minutes pass, the clock ticking steadily from the wall above the tiny stove. Smiling, Chet sits back, flecks of whiteness on his lips. He props his elbow on the mattress between my legs. Leaning his chin against his fist, he plays inside my entrance with just one finger, drawing tendrils of fluid upward with his finger.

“So, wanna play cards?” John asks. “Tim here thinks we can get three hands inside her. But he wants her to tighten up first.”

“Only if we all fuck her first,” Scott says. “We fuck all her holes once she’s tight again, then you can stretch her out.”

I lay still as the men bury themselves into their card game. Brian gets up after a while and helps me into a sitting position. “Here,” he says warmly as he hands me a shot. “Drink this down. It’ll help.”

Nodding, I swallow the shot, making a face as the alcohol burns my throat. Without missing a beat, Brian pours another and hands it to me. “It’ll help you relax,” he whispers to me alone. “Maybe even sleep.”

“But I don’t want to sleep,” I return.

“So then fight it!” Brian pours me a third and I drink it down. “That’s enough for now,” he says. “I’ll give you another just before we start.”

I lay floating under the affects of the booze, my lids heavy and hard to open. My body is completely relaxed on the bed as the men drift over one by one and drive in their cocks. I see the bodies heaving above me, the muscles in the arms rippling as they knead my breasts and thrust endlessly. The faces change. The feel of the cocks change, too. Some ram against my cervix, others stretch me inside as they glide in and out. The room is filled with grunting sounds as my legs are released and I am flipped onto my side. Then two men are inside me, my anus stretching to accommodate one throbbing member, and then another.

A cock presses its way into my mouth and I open my throat like I’m swallowing a shot. The male-hood slides deep beyond the point of my gag reflex, and I open wide to keep my teeth from the flesh pumping up and down in my throat. The man pulls out and I swallow convulsively, opening my mouth again for more and still more.

The fucking stops and Brian is sitting on the bed, holding me up to swallow another shot. I gulp it down and lay panting, the semen and booze rising with bile in my throat until I choke it back down.

“I love that she swallows,” a voice says nearby.

“She is a good God-fearing girl,” John replies in approval. “She’s not even upset about having to die one day. So many girls have a problem with that.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I hear Tim’s voice grumble. “They only exist for our pleasure. They are lucky we let them live at all.”

“Or at least the pretty ones,” Brian says.

The men gather between my legs, some pulling up chairs to watch. John is opening my sore cunt, spreading lube on his hands to get me started. “Not that she needs it or anything,” he tells his audience. “But I would like it not to hurt her.”

“Who cares?” Came Tim’s sneering response.

I am deep in the bed, my legs floating in the air weightless and free. The two hands glide into me with some small effort, John pausing at my tight spots to work them loose. He is fisting me two-handed, driving steadily in and out.  I see Tim lower himself beneath John’s working arms. Fingers pull at my cunt’s lower wall, elongating the already taut tissue. He works in fingers.

“Stay up shallow,” He commands John. “I want to fit in around the widest part of your hands, not your wrists. If we go in the easy way, we might end up stuck inside her.”

John nods and draws his hands up, rotating them slowly just inside my opening. I feel nothing as I drift, my eyes fluttering as my consciousness flits between the little room filled with men and the dream of being pumped full of cement, the big cylinder turning above me with the trough aiming down, the lumpy gray sludge sliding into my cunt and down into my passage, filling me up slowly, hardening within.

I scream at a sudden ripping pain.

“She’s bleeding,” John says. “We stop now.”

“No, we do not. Look, I’m almost in. Larry, don’t let him pull out!”

I groan and thrash weakly, feeling elbows press my breasts, while two sets of hands hold my arms flat.

“Hold her still!” Tim commands sharply. “We’ve almost got this. Larry, retie her legs, will you?  She keeps thumping me on the head.

I am whimpering at the pain, fighting the hands holding me, and the others raising and spreading my legs. My bones creak audibly for the men to hear as Tim’s hand pushes relentlessly in under John’s entwined fingers. He pushes hard once, and then again, and there is another excruciating tearing.

“I’m in!” Tim shouts triumphantly. “Now John, we work as one. Down deep and back out. And I do mean all the way out.”

I writhe in agony as the hands plunge in, my vagina being forced apart from top to bottom.

“Girls do this all the time with childbirth,” Tim is saying. “She can take it. Trust me.”

My hips are pulled upwards as the men withdraw. There is a loud squelching noise, and fluid soaks the sheet between my legs. “The blood is normal,” Tim assures the men. “We had to tear her a bit to fit inside, that’s all.”

I am wild with pain, thrashing against the men holding me down, but gradually the discomfort eases and I am frantically undulating hard around the three hands. My head is thrown back, and my mouth wide open. My body rises to meet the men driving in, asking for more, demanding more!

The hands increase their tempo. I am screaming with every thrust, pounding the bed with my hands. The men have released me and step back to watch. They are pleased as my body surrenders. I have been mastered and fully tamed, my body filled to the point of splitting apart.

“Would you look at that,” Brian says in dismay. “She actually loves it.”’

Tim is chuckling as he works, the two men leaning forward and back as they ram deep inside me again and still again. “I knew she would,” he says, smiling.

I lay back, sobbing in ecstasy as the two men work. I spurt in their faces and pulse around their hands and still they pump me hard, my hands clawing at their sweaty hair as they pound their rock-hard fists into me. I spray them again and the men are laughing now, with Chet and Brian sucking my nipples. The rhythm continues for what seems like hours. My hips are propped higher on pillows, the three arms gliding straight down as the men labor side by side, their sweaty muscles bunching and releasing in their shoulders and arms.

At last, they stop, their breath rasping in their throats as they fall back, their legs trembling beneath them. I am barely conscious, the room whirling around my head.

“Tell you what,” Tim says as his breathing slows. “Call us after she has the baby. I want to try this again, when she’s stretched out from the birth. I’m willing to bet everything I own that we’ll get in four.”

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