"Graduation Day at Dolcett High" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/kCxt5iyM Created on: Friday 11th of September 2020 01:09:36 AM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:00:00 AM UTC Graduation Day at Dolcett High « on: June 15, 2020, 09:00:05 AM » Quote Graduation Day at Dolcett High School One of the great traditions at Dolcett High was the community picnic after the graduation ceremony. It was an opportunity to enjoy food and fellowship, take pictures of the graduates in their caps and gowns, and celebrate the beginning suggested by the term “commencement.” It was a family time in this family friendly hamlet called Dolcett. Of course, someone has to feed the masses, and with the explosion in the female population coupled with the COVID-666 virus that virtually wiped out all domestic cattle and swine, it was inevitable that cannibalism would be accepted as a standard practice. Why no one ever even considered taking the human race in the vegan direction is still a mystery. And, so, to make the process of slaughtering human females for food more palatable, games and surprises were often incorporated into the selection process. That’s why every female walking across the stage at good old DHS did so with a light tread and a lot of anticipation. Would she be chosen? Would her meat be considered good enough for the picnic? It was a great honor to be picked and, of course, a nice chunk of change went to the father of the fortunate female. Any human sow/cow of legal age could be butchered for parts or rendered for cooking fat, but only the best got to be spit roasted. There was a lot of competition among women of the senior class, those over 18 at any rate, to see whose meat could be graded the highest in the annual stockman’s evaluation that all graduating senior girls had to undergo in their final semester at school. The results were kept ultra secret until after the ceremonies were over. And even being rated AAA Prime wasn’t a guaranteed trip to the kill room. For the picnic there would be ten barbecue pits and ten highly delectable sows rotating over the coals. The class of 3013 was made up of about 150 students, 100 of them of the distaff persuasion. Everyone agreed that the current crop was one of the finest yet. Excellent conformation, good solid meat, and outstanding fillets were abundant in this group of graduates. Who would be chosen to grace the picnic spits? That was the question on most minds. And, how would they be taken? Each girl was instructed to come prepared to roast – clean as a whistle inside and out. Failure to comply meant that every female in that person’s family, regardless of age, was immediately subject to processing with no compensation to the man of the house. So everyone took this very seriously. The young ladies were all given standard graduation caps and gowns but were told not to wear anything under them. Janet and Janice were twins who had long been acknowledged as two of the most beautiful examples of prime girl meat Dolcett had ever produced. One or both of them was sure to be chosen, or so the common wisdom went. They were 18 and prime candidates to become comestibles for this year’s picnic. They were having a quickie in their bedroom the morning of the big day thinking it might be their last. Lost in their expression of Sapphic sexuality they brought each other to numerous climaxes before their step-mother (father’s fifth wife, the other four having made one way trips to the family’s large roasting oven over the years) got tired of jilling off while watching them from the open doorway. “All right you two, time to get showered, shaved, and cleaned out. Let’s get moving,” she barked, slapping each of them on their well formed rumps (which bore the AAA Prime stamp in bright blue ink). “OK, Mom,” they giggled in unison, still kissing as they scampered off to the bathroom to get ready for the big event. “Make sure you do a thorough job, you two,” Lucy called out as they meandered down the hall, “there’s six other women in this family who don’t necessarily feel like becoming cutlets today.” “We know, mom,” the pair whined as they shut and locked the bathroom door behind them. Lucy could hear water running along with a lot of giggling and eventually what sounded like long, wet, farts. She smiled and walked down the hall toward the kitchen. Meanwhile, in another part of Dolcett, Francine Henry was also getting ready for graduation day. Like every other female Dolcett High senior, she’d taken extra care with her preparations – no one wanted a repeat of what happened to the Miltons five years ago. One by one all eight of the girls in the family had been slowly, excruciatingly, impaled and then roasted. The meat had been given to the dogs from the local humane society shelter and the husband/father had been forced to watch. He’d left town soon after and rumor was that he’d committed suicide. Francine was a very pretty young lady with long black hair, an olive tinted complexion, and dark eyes, so brown they were almost black. She had great tits – her father had told her she’d make a fine milker one day, just like her late mother had been right up until she did a pole dance over the flames at a community cookout. But, Francine also had a great ass and a prime filet. Her right ass cheek bore the blue inked AAA Prime and she felt confident that she would be chosen for this year’s graduation feast. It would be a great honor for her family, which now consisted of seven sisters and one brother, and her father would get a bonus for her flesh. After putting the final touches on her makeup and checking her ass in the mirror, she slipped into her graduation gown, put on the mortar board hat, and headed for Dolcett High. These same scenes were duplicated all over town as girls got up and got themselves ready for the ceremony – all wondering who would be chosen as one of the ten to roast today. All of them wanted to be on that list. It was a high honor to be chosen for this feast and it meant a big payday for their fathers. “All set, Francine,” Janet asked? “For sure. You and Janice roasting today you think?” “Oh we hope so,” the twins answered in unison, as they so often did. “What about you? What do you think about your chances?” “Oh, I doubt I’ll be picked,” Francine said modestly. “I’m not anywhere near as high quality girl meat as you two.” “Yeah, right,” said Janice, lifting up the hem of Francine’s short graduation gown to expose the AAA Prime stamp on her ass. The three started laughing. “ALL GRADUATING FEMALES PLEASE REPORT TO THE GYM FOR TENDERIZING,” suddenly boomed over the public address system. Loud squeals of laughter and much giggling followed the announcement, and every female in the graduating class headed for the gymnasium. The gymnasium was set up for pre-barbecue tenderizing, with stations set up all over the floor, which had been covered with canvas tarps for the process. Each tenderizing station consisted of a pair of horizontal bars adjusted to waist height for each girl. The bars were about two feet apart with a pair of restraining cuffs attached to each. As the girls stepped up to the stations, their wrists and ankles were secured to the four corners of the station. As an added feature, each girl had been instructed to wear their hair in a single braid interwoven with steel wire. A hook and cable arrangement was connected to the braid and each girl’s head was pulled back into alignment with her cunt, simulating the position used for impalement and making all three of their fuck holes completely available for tenderizing. Once the women were secure, a line of men, including fathers and brothers of the girls on display, marched in, naked and tumescent, and without a word of greeting began vigorously fucking the girls fore and aft. Francine was being seen to by her father and brother. It was nothing new for her. In addition to cannibalism, incest was widely practiced in Dolcett, although in accordance with the Mayor’s edicts, never until past age 18. Francine’s 18th birthday had been the previous December, and since then she’d been fucked pretty much nonstop by her father and brother, whose cocks she had thoroughly enjoyed. “This is what we call a spit roast, son,” Francine’s father said with a grunt as he ploughed her ass. “You got it dad. Switch?” “Sure.” Her brother pulled his long cock out of her throat just as her father removed his own prodigious instrument from her asshole with a loud “pop” and she was momentarily empty. She knew better than to close her mouth, however, and moments later, her father was ramming his dick down her throat while her brother’s cock filled her ass, and then, her pussy. When both men came, they moved on to other women and two other men took over her tenderizing. This scene was repeated around the gym for about an hour until all of the men had emptied their balls into several girls – some more than once. A whistle sounded and the girls were released from the tenderizing stations, cum dripping down their freshly waxed legs from equally freshly waxed pussies and now freshly relaxed sphincters. The girls were given 15 minutes to freshen their makeup and then everyone trooped over to the auditorium to line up for the grand march into what for some would be oblivion. As they lined up, the teachers came around with special collars for the girls. The collars were leather and each had a metal disc on the front with a small LED crystal in its center. Each disc contained a coded chip and each collar had a name on it. Ten of these collars had codes indicating that the wearer was on the menu. The rest had completely benign codes that meant the wearer was safe for the day. The collars were carefully checked to make sure that they went to the proper individual according to a list kept by the principal. This was the nervous part. Up until now everything had been pleasant. But from this point on, everyone knew that ten girls were going to get roasted and no one except the Principal and the Superintendent of Schools knew who they were. Collars affixed, the girls got into line. The boys went first because it wouldn’t be right for them not to see who was chosen at the moment that choice became known. One by one the names were announced and the graduates walked across the stage to receive their diplomas, get their family’s applause, and a handshake from the School Board President. When the boys were through and had been seated, the girls began to troop across the stage. Ten of them would not make it all the way to where the graduating class was seated at the front of the auditorium. One by one the girls came from the wings in alphabetical order. Amy Anderson, a pretty blonde, was first across the stage, her short graduation gown barely covering her ass swishing as she walked confidently in her impossibly high heels. The crowd followed her every movement. A hush descended on the hall broken only by the click, click, click of her heels on the hardwood floor of the stage. Past the podium, hand shake, diploma hand off, down the steps, and to her seat. Nothing happened. A smattering of applause. If it is possible to look relieved and disappointed at the same time, that was how Amy looked as she took her seat. Andrea Atkinson was next. She was tall and well put together. Her tits pushed out the front of her gown and her hard nipples were clearly visible as they pushed against the thin synthetic fabric. Click, click, click went her heels as she made her way past the podium. As she was extending her arm for the hand shake there was a loud buzz, Andrea shrieked, and a trap door opened underneath her. The crowd gasped as she disappeared from view and the door slammed shut behind her. One down, nine left to go. The next time these people saw Andrea, she would be rotating over the coals on a spit pole. Ten more girls crossed the stage without incident. The crowd was growing restive. They wanted to see someone’s eyes open wide in shock as she felt the jolt of the disc in her collar and the air opening under their feet. The collar administered a heavy shock as the trap door opened, temporarily incapacitating the victim so she couldn’t attempt to reach out and grab something on her way down to the kill room. Francine Henry strode confidently across the stage. Some of the girls had been caught looking at the floor where they’d seen Andrea disappear. Francine did nothing of the kind. She looked the Superintendent and School Board President in the eyes as she stepped toward them. She looked hot. Both of them had “tenderized” her earlier and were clearly remembering the event as the bulges in their slacks demonstrated. She reached for the extended hand waiting to shake hers and felt the sudden jolt of electricity hit her with a force that she had not anticipated. Her mind was clear, but her limbs were useless as her nervous system was momentarily scrambled. She got off a short scream of surprise as the floor under her feet disappeared and she felt herself dropping. “Yes!” she thought as she fell. She was sliding down a chute; her body limp from the electric shock. Her cap flew away. Her arms were over her head. Unseen hooks pulled her gown up and off, leaving her naked except for her shoes. She emerged from the chute into the waiting arms of two strong men in white aprons – that’s all they were wearing – who caught her easily and quickly carried her over to the spitting form. The form was a simple device for impaling spit roasts. Think of a five foot long sawhorse with restraint cuffs fore and aft, straps for the torso and neck, and an adjustable chin rest to properly position the sow for sticking. As she was placed on the form Francine saw the rack of gleaming stainless steel spits and watched as one of the men selected one while the other secured her to the form. She felt her head jerked back as the attendant slipped a hook through her plait and secured the other end to a hook which he buried in her ass. Moments later she was completely secured to the frame just as she began to recover from the jolt of electricity supplied by her collar. Next she felt metal bands placed around her arms just above the elbows and her legs just above the knees. She was going to be cropped! She’d seen it done but somehow had never imagined that she would suffer this fate. The bands were tightened swiftly and soon she had no feeling at all below the knees or elbows. She knew that before she was placed over the coals her arms and legs would be relieved of less desirable flesh – flesh that would be stripped from the bone and added to a mixture of other body parts not included in a whole roaster and then stuffed, along with spices, into her empty intestines as sausage. “All set?” one of the men asked. “Yup. Just let me lube her up and you can push this through. Should have another one coming down the chute shortly.” Report to moderator Logged "In the long run we are all dead." -- John Maynard Keynes UrLord Full Member *** Posts: 246 Gender: Male View Profile Personal Message (Offline) Re: Graduation Day at Dolcett High « Reply #1 on: June 15, 2020, 09:00:40 AM » Quote “Two, if I guess right. Can’t wait to see those twins dancing over the coals.” “Mmmm…mmmm…lots of prime meat in this year’s graduating class.” So the twins would be joining her over the coals? It figured. They were the hottest girls in the class of ’13. Francine’s silent musings about Janet and Janice were interrupted as she felt something warm and wet being spread around and inside her pussy. She was trembling now. This was it. She was about to be spitted. She had made the Order of the Ten. She was proud and scared at the same time. Would it hurt much? Like all girls in Dolcett she had been conditioned to accept her eventual fate and had been present at a number of events where girls and women were live spitted. She had masturbated furiously fantasizing about riding the spear. But this was different. She gasped when she felt the cold pointed end of the spit pole touching her tender vaginal flesh. “OK, she’s greased and the pole’s lubed, so let’s get this piggy spitted.” Francine couldn’t stifle the gasp caused by the insertion of six inches of cold, hard, steel into her vagina. Her eyes were open wide now and she was panting. A series of mini-orgasms rippled through her body as the last lover she would ever experience claimed her. The spit was thicker and harder than anything she’d ever been fucked with. Without the lube she’d have been torn wide open already. She moaned and gasped as the attendant fucked her with the spear, working it in and out as he prepared to impale her. “Christ, look at her wriggle,” one of them said. “C’mon Bob, quit playing with your food and stick her,” he added with a chuckle. “Here goes,” came the reply, followed by a grunt. Francine screamed as the spear point pierced the back wall of her vagina, bypassing her cervix, which was at the wrong angle for impalement, and quickly slid through her guts. She’d never felt anything like this. Her whole body cramped with pain. She screamed again as her stomach was pierced. Waves of pain overwhelmed her nervous system, but her conditioning and the genetic modifications women had undergone over the past century caused the release of a flood of endorphins. The pain quickly turned to pleasure and as the spit slowly slid up her esophagus she experienced a second wave – this time an orgasmic wave – that caused her to cry out in ecstasy. The cry became a choking gurgle as the bloody spear point cut off her air supply when it passed through her throat and out her mouth. She tried valiantly to breathe around the spit, her whole body shaking with the effort. “OK, let’s get her breathing hole opened,” one of the attendants said. Francine felt her collar being removed and then a sharp pain at her throat heralded the insertion of the breathing grommet in her trachea. She was spitted. She was still alive. It was just as she had fantasized. She moved as much as her bonds would allow rubbing her clit against the spear that was taking her life. She was now continuously orgasmic and would remain so for what remained of her life, now measured in minutes. “Get the cutters.” Her wrists were released – she knew this because she felt the movement in her upper arms – and she felt a sharp tug accompanied by a very organic snapping sound as the huge and powerful clippers bit through the flesh and bone of her left arm. She felt it again in her right arm. The metal bands acted as tourniquets preventing more than minimal blood loss. She felt her stumps moved and then two sharp pains as they were pierced by the spreader spikes attached to the pole by a collar and set bolt arrangement. Her legs went next to a bigger set of shears, this one operated with pneumatic power assist. It made a tearing sound and a snap as the bone was cut. But she felt only pressure and then the release of pressure as her legs were amputated above the knee. Once again there were two painful stabs as her leg stumps were secured to the lower spreader spikes and she was spread eagled on the spit. “Ready?” “Yup. Let’s get her to the boys at the gutting station. We’ve got two more just about ready to drop.” Francine felt herself lifted from the spitting frame and carried to the next room where she was laid on a long metal table. She knew what this was for. There were gutters on all four sides that led to drains in the floor. This is where she would be gutted and stuffed before being taken out to the barbecue pits. Francine continued to fuck herself on the pole. Now that her arms and legs were secured to the spear she was able to use them for leverage as she fucked herself to one orgasm after another oblivious to the pain coming from her ruined flesh. She could see the raised edge of the table behind her head and the red streaked spit pole protruding from her mouth. She could see the bloody stumps of her arms at the edges of her vision right and left. That was pretty much it. Her body jerked as the man working on her sliced open her belly and for just a moment the pain overtook the conditioning she’d undergone. Had she still been able she would have screamed as the sharp blade pierced her flesh like so much soft butter. First the long vertical slice from pubis to breast bone and then the two horizontal slices six inches either side of the midline. Hands opened her belly to the air and her guts were carefully removed; blood vessels cauterized with lasers to prevent her premature death due to exsanguination. She felt the tugs as her various organs were detached, sliced away by the sharp blade so skillfully wielded in her belly. Her large intestine was cut off about 18 inches from the rectum and then tied off. Intestines, kidneys, liver, stomach – all removed and set aside for transport to hospitals to be used as transplants, or to become part of some delicious gourmet feast. She felt warm water spraying her insides cleaning up the last of the residue of the gutting operation before seasonings and stuffing replaced the living flesh she had been born with. Soon the needle pierced her belly skin and she was sewn shut. Her anus was pierced by the 18 inch stabilizing spear; its collar locked in place with a set bolt. She felt another jolt of momentary pain as a double-aught needle pierced her right nipple and pressed deep into her young breast. Her breast swelled as about 16 ozs of fluid was injected into it. The needle withdrew and a moment later her left nipple felt its bite and that tit was also filled with cooking fluid. Clips snapped into place around her nipples; these sharp stings added to her pleasure as she felt herself being prepared for her final trip. Her body was rinsed with warm water and then sprayed with a combination of cooking oil and spices. She was hoisted into the air again and her backside was likewise oiled and flavored. Francine felt herself being carried, the swaying making the spit pole press into her in new ways giving her pleasure like nothing she’d ever felt before. She was dying but the pleasure was well worth it. She could see a set of spit racks ahead. Andrea Atkinson was loaded onto the bottom of one of these wheeled spit holders. Francine was loaded onto the bottom of the other. She and Andrea were now facing each other. Andrea blinked when she saw Francine. It was pretty much impossible to smile with the thick spear protruding from their lips but both girls managed to convey their message of congratulations and happiness at being chosen for the school graduation barbecue. Francine could see how Andrea was spread eagled by the stabilizing spikes just as she herself was arranged. This was to ensure even cooking of all body surfaces. “Wow! Twins!” Francine heard someone exclaim and she knew that Janet and Janice were about to join her. She heard the screams as the twins were spitted and the bloody snapping sounds of their limbs being similarly cropped. About ten minutes later she felt the frame move as a spit was settled into its receiving slots above her. She felt occasional drips of moisture on her back and assumed it was blood. She looked up as much as she could without being able to move her head and saw one of the twins in the opposite rack. She spotted the small birthmark on the left shoulder of the girl across from her and knew that it was Janice. Janet didn’t have that birthmark. She saw Janice squirming on the steel pole fucking herself through a series of orgasms just as Francine herself was doing. These were the penultimate orgasms of her life. The pleasure she was feeling right now was not like anything she’d ever experienced. She knew the other three girls were likewise being pleasured by the mastery of the impaling pole. Time passed, Francine didn’t know how much, but she felt more movement in the frame as three more girls were added one after another to the slots above her. That would be the top ten. Now, onto the coals, “OK, boys, let’s wheel ‘em out to the pits. We have to get these sows turning on the coals before they snuff it for good or it’ll be our asses getting cooked,” a voice near Francine said, to the laughter of the others in the room. She knew she didn’t have long to live and was making the most of it, using what was left of her strength to continue fucking herself to death on the fatal spear. Francine felt the cart moving on its inflated tires. The bumping and jostling increased her pleasure as it moved the pole within her causing it to touch her in very pleasurable ways. There was the sensation of rising – they must have been in a freight elevator – and then she felt sunlight on her oiled flesh as they were wheeled out to the barbecue pits. Applause broke out as the rest of her classmates, their parents, friends, and relatives watched the ten graduates, all cropped and spitted, wheeled to the cooking area. Being on the bottom, Francine and Andrea were the last to be hoisted onto the barbecue frames. She felt each jolt as the rack stopped each time another girl was placed on the heat to begin cooking. Finally it was her turn. Once again the internal pressure of the spit changed as she was lifted from the frame and then she felt the heat. “Oh my god…” she thought. Nothing could have prepared Francine for the awful heat produced by those glowing charcoal briquettes. She had been placed in the rotisserie frame face down and she could feel her tits beginning to boil from the inside out before the motor was switched on and she began to rotate over the coals. Still, the heat was truly unbearable. “Wow…look at that one, dad,” said a young female voice nearby. “You can tell she’s really feeling the heat. Look at her squirm!” Squirming was indeed what Francine and the other nine girls were doing. But that squirming had another effect, which was to move their bodies slightly on the spit, fucking them into what would be the ultimate orgasms of their brief but happy lives. Francine felt her heart rate peaking. Her vision blurred. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer. She was having trouble breathing as her juices occluded the trachea grommet from time to time. She had no idea how long she’d been over the heat. Francine had adapted to its searing force and her genetically enhanced nervous system triggered the release of massive amounts of endorphins which turned the burning pain into intense pleasure. With a final twitching, jerking, orgasm, Francine’s body finally gave up the struggle and with a sigh that came out of her trachea like a whistle, she was gone. Her eyes wide open and staring, her body glistening with cooking oil and her own juices turning golden brown as it continued to roast. Four hours later, she, along with her 9 fellow seniors were removed from the spits and arranged on display trays for the enjoyment of the assembly. Everyone agreed that it was another fine crop of graduates. “All right everyone,” said the Superintendent, “let’s eat!” And they did.