Posted by PK on April 17, 2003 at 14:47:52:
Everybody wanted to know but nobody wanted to be the first to ask 'How did it go?'. Even
Katy was unusually reticent at dinner, and Nicky was grateful for that. Her breasts still felt
both numb and sore, an odd sensation that made her acutely conscious of them, as though
they were both enormous and out of her control, a bit like her mouth felt the last time she'd
been to the dentists. After she caught Adam not looking at her chest for the third or fourth
time she began to wish somebody would say something.
It wasn't until she finally went to bed that Lucy broke the silence.
"When will you know?"
Nicky was lying on her back as instructed. She had determinedly ignored the stiff, slightly
itchy feeling of the synthetic on her skin, though she had a maddening urge to rip it off and
shower. "Tomorrow morning." She didn't want to talk, she just wanted to sleep, she tried to
avoid wondering how it would look. She expected sleep to be long in coming. Lucy said
nothing more until Nicky heard her moving quietly about the room. It was morning. She
waited until Lucy had left before she got up and headed for the bathroom. The pseudoskin
was itchy as a scab that needed pulling off, it was starting to peel like an old sunburn.
Carefully, she tugged at a corner and with surprising ease the whole thing pulled away. She
examined herself in the mirror.
It was a shock. Her reflection showed her new self, two plump little breasts standing out
proud like ripe apples where almost nothing had been before. They were pinkish on the
underside with a couple of very faint scars. Nothing a couple of days and a tan wouldn't fix,
she realised. She touched her nipples experimentally, they were still sensitive, almost
excessively so. She cupped herself gently, turning to view them in profile.
"I've got tits," she told herself in wonder. "I've got TITS. WhooHOO!"
Thank you, Igor, she thought as she returned to the bedroom to dress. She hadn't noticed
before, but a pile of bras had been left for her to use, probably old ones of Katy's. She found
one that fit, a lacy little number that Katy had outgrown. It felt good. She went down to
breakfast feeling self-conscious but pleased.
"I've been thinking maybe I should be curried," Lucy was saying over mouthfuls of ham and
eggs. "Maybe I'm just too bland without spices.."
"What's wrong with good American old barbecue sauce?" her father grumbled.
"Dear I don't think..." Joanne halted. "Good morning, Nicole."
"Morning, guys," Nicky said cheerily.
"Looking good, Sis," Adam commented. "I'll have one of those."
Conversation resumed on a playful note, Nicky's improved mood was obvious. The talk got
around to the upcoming Feast. Now that Nicky wasn't so worried about her appearance, it
was no longer a touchy subject.
"Who are you going to invite?" Tammi asked her.
It was traditional, of course, for the guest of honour to invite her own boyfriend. The only
problem was that Nicky had broken up with Brad a few days before she'd received her notice.
After he'd found out about it he'd tried to get back with her, but Nicky wasn't having any.
["You just want my pussy on a plate," she had said, "I wasn't good enough before, now all of
a sudden you love me? Well, fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Maybe your pet
cheerleader will get called up next. Do me a favour? Hold your breath."]
Which left her without a date for the party.
"I'll think of something," she said nonchalantly. Not even that could spoil her good mood.
"I'll cut you a stick," Adam offered helpfully. That got him a few puzzled looks. He sighed. "To
beat them all off with?"
The comment proved prophetic. As the Feast Day had drawn ever closer, Nicky had already
been getting more attention than usual from the boys. Only a limited number of people would
be at her neighbourhood's local feast, the immediate neighbourhood itself and the
legitimately invited guests. That would naturally include Nicky's chosen partner, if she had
one. There were plenty of eligible males who'd jump at the chance to eat Nicky's prime cut
despite her modest chest measurement, the enhancement had really been for her own
benefit. Now she had it, though, the attention she received redoubled. Boys opened doors for
her, offered to carry her books, lavished compliments on her. She still attended school
although she could have exempted herself - after all, she wouldn't be needing her education
much longer - but preferred to continue to live a normal life until the last day. For the first
couple of days after her operation, she revelled in being the center of attention while
pretending to remain indifferent to it. She politely and graciously accepted the compliments
on her beauty, charm, smile, dress sense and everything else without committing herself to
anything.
After two days of this, however, she was almost getting getting tired of it until one of the
boys, older than her, came out with it.
"Nice tits, Robinson," Robert Wilson said, catching her in the corridor between classes.
"What happened, sudden growth spurt? Hormones?"
Nicky smiled wickedly. "It's stuffing," she said. She wasn't going to pretend.
"Padded bra? You disappoint me." His smile was urbane, playful, faintly ironic.
"No, it's stuffing. In my tits. My Mom's recipe."
Robert's eyebrows rose. "Be still, my heart. You're walking around with sage and onion in
you? Breadcrumbs? Cranberries?"
"Chestnuts? It's a secret recipe. Eat your heart out."
"My dream girl. Let me take you way from all this. Marry me. We'll go to a tropical island,
have a honeymoon...."
Nicky laughed. "Then you have the luau and roast me on the beach over palm leaves, right?"
"Got it in one." He grinned engagingly.
"I'll take a raincheck," she demurred, still smiling.
Robert shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
Nicky didn't, but she didn't bite either. The news about the real nature of her stuffed tits went
around the school and the neighbourhood like wildfire. It did nothing to diminish her
newfound popularity, rather the reverse. Most of the guys (and more than one of the girls)
found the idea of her being made more edible while she was still alive intriguing. Some of her
classmates wanted details, and the recipe.
"I'd do that," Charlotte commented wistfully. "I don't know if my Dad would spring for it. Can
you get it in apple sauce?"
"Anything you like," Nicky told her. "We got a deal. I'd put in a word for you, but I won't be
around when you get it. Maybe you could ask my Dad. Or the guy at the plant, I know him."
At dinner, Katy had to say it, she couldn't help herself. "Who are you going to ask?" she
pressed. "There's only a couple of days, you've got to bring somebody..."
"No, she doesn't, Sis," Adam said, "She's got the right but she doesn't have to."
"You just want her pussy for yourself," Tammi sniped. Adam didn't bother to confirm or deny
the charge. Joanne looked as if she wanted to reprove Tammi but didn't know what to say.
"All I'm saying is, it's her choice," Adam insisted. He looked to his father.
All attention went to Mr. Robinson. As a traditionalist, he would naturally have preferred his
daughter to have a date, but technically Adam was right. Whether or not he wanted his own
shot at eating Nicky's filet was not a matter for family debate.
"Nicole can do what she wants, so long as she does it right," he announced. He addressed
his daughter directly and formally. "You will turn up on the day presentable and in a fit state
to be cooked."
"Yes, Daddy," Nicky said dutifully. It was no concession, it had not occurred to her to do
otherwise. Like she'd spoil her big entrance by turning up badly groomed? As if.
"That's it," Jack concluded. "Eat your dinners."
The Master had spoken, the subject was closed. Any further conversation steered away from
the matter of Nicky's prospective date. Nicky was just as happy to leave the topic, she still
hadn't decided. In the bedroom that night, Lucy broached it again.
"I heard Rob Wilson made a play for you," she said.
So much for subtlety, Sis, Nicky thought. "Yeah," she said affecting indifference, "Him and
half the other guys."
"He's cute," Lucy said. "I'd go for it."
"Dream on, Sis," Nicky retorted smugly.
Not getting anywhere with that, Lucy changed the subject. "Do you know what they did in the
old days if somebody ran away when they got culled?"
"Old days? What old days? " History was not a big subject in American schools, Nicky had
been taught the official version. She knew that things had been different before the
Reformation but not exactly how. That was prehistoric stuff, the Dark Ages.
"When somebody ran away, they culled all the women and girls in her family," Lucy said with
ghoulish relish. "All of them, all at once. So, if you ran for the border they'd have a big public
feast and cook Katy, Tammi, Bobbi and me. And Joanne. Everybody would get us, not just
our neighbours. Daddy would be ruined. Then if they caught you..."
"If?" Nobody got away, everybody knew that!
"Things were wild for a while after the change. Some of them actually made it over the
border."
Fantasy, it had to be. "Where do you get this stuff?" Nicky whispered. She knew, of course.
"Don't let Daddy hear you say that," she added anxiously.
Lucy snorted contemptuously. "As if! You want to hear this or not?"
Nicky made a muffled noise that might have been grudging assent.
"You'd be roasted alive, but without the drugs or the preparation or the basting. They wouldn't
skewer you properly, you'd be tied to the pole. You'd be burnt up, screaming, your hair would
be on fire..."
Nicky shuddered. "Stop it!" It couldn't be true, surely? In today's civilised society, one of her
family would be selected to replace her as the designated roastee and she, when caught - not
if - would simply be taken to the plant and turned into sausages. If she'd been selected for
processing in the first place, running away would cost the family a fine and one other female
to share her fate. No decent girl in her right mind would even think of it. "It doesn't matter
anyway, they don't do that now. Anyway, I'm not going to run."
"Not now you've got your new boobs," Lucy teased good-naturedly.
No, certainly not now. Nicky could visualise the scene, herself proudly taking center stage.
Lose all that and risk the sausage factory to boot? "Wouldn't give Katy the satisfaction," she
half-joked. She didn't really hate her voluptuous sister, of course, and she certainly wouldn't
want her to get processed, but she couldn't help feeling a certain faintly malicious triumph at
having beaten her to the prestigious Spring Feast.