"Stories / Random Dormitory Conversions" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/1KybEEwu Created on: Thursday 4th of August 2016 10:10:45 PM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:29:50 AM UTC Stories / Random Dormitory Conversions « on: May 05, 2016, 05:55:32 pm » This little vignette is a brief mass conversion story with nudity, inferred lesbian sex and mass executions by throat cutting. My mom had told me that these would happen. I had been at the Commonwealth College of Death Administration for almost two years. This was one type of random culling and conversion that they left almost exclusively for the senior girls. While the alarm woke all of us, it was a gentle toned electronic ding that roused us easily without a start. It was an alarm we had been trained to instinctively respond to no matter what time of day, just like all the other dorms on campus. Sometimes we were just called out to stay in position for discipline bent at the waist with our pajama bottoms and underwear down. Sometimes a few girls would get whipped; sometimes all of us. I knew it as soon as I awoke. All us moved out of our dorm rooms and into the hall where we stood at attention with our arms folded behind us, eyes forward. I looked across at a fat, large breasted girl named Gillian in her uniform pajamas that seemed to barely restrain her soft form, her large nipples hard and protruding through the fleece PJs. Our eyes met discreetly and she mouthed words to me. "Good bye." In my periphery, I saw movement; administrators and our RA, Rachel talking. I couldn't make out what they were saying. I heard one person say 'how many?'. Rachel said 'yes ma'am' several times. There was a rustling of movement and then Rachel's voice making a little pitiful sound before I heard the distinct sound of her body crumpling to the floor. I suddenly felt my breath shallow and speed up. "Disrobe ladies." It wasn't an angry command from the administrator but it was deeply authoritative. We all were naked in a moment our clothes in piles in front of us. We had been through this drill before as well. As I undressed, I saw Rachel's crumpled form naked in a pool of blood. Now the drill was real and many of were about to die. Though all of us were willing, it still didn't change the anxious stress of it. When I was sleeping I was having a dream about this pretty little blond girl who thought that my pussy tasted like candy and wanted to lick for dessert. Now I was listening to girls being killed one after the other. There was no method or madness. No pattern to anticipate who was next. I just heard girl's dying. My eyes caught Gillian's again and tears were slipping down her face but she remained stoic. They were getting closer and the sound of the knife passing into naked flesh now joined the sounds of pain and death. A couple of girls cried out, not in resistance, just in pain. Out of my peripheral vision, a female administrator passed three girls on the other side and walked directly up to Gillian. "Why are you crying, baby girl?" Gillian blinked hard and spoke in an apologetic tone. "Ma'am, I am going to miss some of those girls. That's all." "You won't sweetheart." The administrator was raising her blade as she said it. "Stand still for me." Gillian obeyed as the woman skillfully drew the sharp six inch blade from ear to ear across her throat before moving on. As if to be obedient, she remained standing for a long moment as the fissure in her neck spewed copious amounts of blood. The Administrator who killed her was already killing someone else when Gillian finally sank to her knees and then seemed to carefully lay down and die. A second female administrator who I knew as one of my professors passed, a lovely black woman named Della Jackson who taught Death Etiquette and Psychology. I didn't realize how automatic the words came out of my mouth because she was well passed me. Nor did I immediately know why I spoke. "Miss Jackson?" She paused and turned to me in recognition. She seemed to read the confusion in my own face. I couldn't speak. What had I done? "Do you want to die, baby-girl?" I felt myself nodding and Miss Jackson nodded with satisfaction as if my inexplicable response to watching Gillian die was all a part of her educating. She had me by the hair which cause me to squeak and come out of my position. I never felt her cut me but soon my chest was covered with warm sticky blood. She must have led me to my knees. I fell onto my knees and one hand while my other instinctively but in futility tried to stem the bleeding. As my life force ebbed out of me, I looked up at another girl dying in exactly the same way. She managed a smile as if she had just figured out a joke. I laid down and the blood seemed to flow slower. I was so cold. Another girl cries out from a knife to her throat. I want to look but though my eyes are open, I fail to see anything but the red of the blood and white of my death.