Caught ( A Serial ) by Reilly and Nan {Chapter Five}

Cyndi held him tight, tighter than he had ever felt before. Herbert was dizzy, confused, but he so needed her to be his sanctuary. She whispered in his ear, “I love you Herbert.” and starting to slide down his body. Undoing his pants, placing his manhood in her mouth, she began pleasuring him. He stood there, running his fingers through her hair, staring at the wall with tears running down his face.

In the morning Cyndi was angry. She woke him up and demanded he get her out of there, “We need to go Herbert! Where were we going? Don’t sit there like a vegetable, tell me where were you taking me!!” She had a dry, throaty, almost deep shriek, but he figured she had been through so much.

“I don’t know Cyndi, the woods, we had to get to the woods.”, that was all he could offer.

“And once we were there, how would we live? Are you an idiot? Didn’t you even think about how we would live?!”

Soon after she refused to touch him, her rationale was she was mad at him, angry for where they were, angry that he did not have a plan, disappointed that he was not the man she thought he was. They would sit apart at mealtimes, he would sleep in the chair at night, watching her as she lay there alone in the bed. He had done all he could, changed his life for her, why were women like this?

He wanted to touch her, to feel the comfort that could only be found when their bodies united. Cyndi pestered him, “I can’t open myself to you Herbert, I can’t trust you, you have to prove yourself. Tell me where we’re going?” He was tired of being dizzy all the time, that morning he had skipped breakfast and avoided lunch, his mind was clearing, but still things were so… fuzzy. Was that a shadow across Cyndi’s face?

She pushed him, “Stop daydreaming and start thinking!” Pushed him again, “be a man Herbert! Take control! Where are we going?!” Herbert was tired of the inquisition, he pushed her back. This only seemed to enrage her, “Oh, so you’re the man, you think I belong to you? Fuck you Herbert!” Her eyes seem to shoot a beam right through him, she pushed him against the wall, his head was echoing from the thud. “You’re not a man Herbert, you’re a worthless waste of sperm!” He had never noticed how deep her voice could get, he never noticed… her neck…”You’re worse than a woman Herbert!”

Cyndi pushed him down on the bed, holding him down, tearing away his pants. He tried to push back, still so weak, “Cyndi NO!” She was entering him! “Then be the woman Herbert!!”, she was humping hard and fast…wearing a dildo?.. his mind was racing, colors flashing before his eyes, the pain excruciating! Calling him a “Woman” over and over, pounding his backside, he gripped the blanket, his nails tearing through, she screamed out like a primal beast and collapsed on top of him. Pulling out, she grunted and left the room, he was immersed in pure silence. Except there was a sound, it was quiet, like a child crying. It got louder, began to overtake him, falling to the floor he crawled into to the corner, curled himself into a ball, and wept.

He found Jeremiah sitting there telling stories to a small group. The old man winked a “Hello” when he saw him. When he was done he told Herbert to pull up a chair, “How are ya boy?” Herbert just let it all pour out, “I made a terrible mistake, I see it now, I just want my life back. Do what you want with her, but please Jeremiah… help me be a man again.”

The old man’s grin was huge, his burly arm draped across Herbert’s shoulders, he pulled him in and whispered to the heavens, “Thank you”. He held Herbert and looked into his eyes, “You have sinned my boy, but you have seen the error of your ways. Your old life is gone, but you are reborn, and with that the chance to start a new life, and get it right!” Herbert wondered what that new life would be, but mostly he worried about Cyndi, how would he find her? Could she be found? ———————————————————————–

Bobby loved Candy, she was so soft and sweet and fun to play with. He loved to pull her hair, to fill her mouth with food and eat it out of her, and not just her mouth! At night he would smack her big rump and lick her pussy, and she would make him happy. He also knew that Doggy was getting hungry, he had not been fed anything in anticipation of Bobby’s new toy. Bobby like to go to Doggy’s cage and hold Candy’s head down and watch Doggy try to bite at her through the bars, she was so tender that Bobby wanted to eat her too.

“Perfect!”, he thought to himself, “Doggy and I will have a tug of war with Candy girl, that way we both get some!”

Most days, Cyndi woke on the floor cocooned in the one thin blanket Bobby threw off his bed. Bobby loved gadgets almost as much as he loved girls. He’d put an electronic collar on her, and Bobby delighted in waking her with hard jolts sent by remote control. Bobby wasn’t good with the little knobs, he just turned the controls to “Max” and squealed right along with his Candygirl. This morning was no different, Cyndi was torn from a deep exhausted sleep by fiery jolts rushing down her body. She grasped the collar and tried to get her fingers between the metal and her neck, but that did no good.

She shrieked and writhed and begged. “Bobby oh please oh please, stop it stop it!”

“Please oh please, Bobby hee hee, Bobby stop it, hee hee!” Bobby toggled his controller and watched Cyndi’s body contort and twitch. He relented when Doggy flicked his tail against the barred door. The bars clanged like bells. Bobby dropped the remote.

“Hey Doggy! Morning! See your supper here? She’s good and juicy for you, boy!”

Bobby thought maybe he’d like to play with her tits, so he hoisted her up and into the harness Dad had brought home from the plant. Once the meat was in the harness you had both hands free to try all sorts of things. Cyndi had looked pretty funny up there, squealing in the air like she was trying to swim away or something. Yeah. Time to put her up there again.

Cyndi shuddered as Bobby unhooked the chain that kept her on his floor and hauled the harness down from the ceiling. Each time he’d used it, things had gotten worse. Last time he had a long tined barbecue fork, and he danced around her, pretending he was a pirate in some sort of sword fight.

“Take that, and that! A-ha, my sword is too swift and mighty! I get you! I get you, get you!” Bobby would dance in and out, one arm in the air behind him, the other brandishing the long fork. He jabbed her thighs, her backside, her belly and breasts till Cyndi was covered with twin punctures trickling blood. Cyndi tried to make her body go limp, maybe if he couldn’t manage to fit her into the harness, he’d lose interest. Bobby grunted and struggled and finally slapped her face until she cooperated.

“So lost, oh save me!” Cyndi sobbed as he hit her, her lip puffy now. Cyndi was startled by memories she’d nearly lost. Lost, she was, yes. She was a Lost One now but when she was little–Cyndi howled as he beat her. She tried to focus on the woods, on remembering. Yes. She got lost in the woods once, she remembered now. She was little and terrified, it was dark, and she’d huddled behind a rock. Cold, and shivering, she was afraid to move. But there was a song, she’d sung it back then, and someone had come for her, someone good. Susan, yes!

She smiled, summoning the image of that beautiful girl, the soft brown eyes, the silky brown hair, her gentle laugh as she took Cyndi’s hand and showed her the way home again. Cyndi found herself mouthing words again. The song was only for Little Ones, but Cyndi didn’t care.

Mother, I am lost and hungry The trees are dark and I am scared. Elders of the Roundhouse lead me Safely back into my bed.

As she sang, Bobby pushed her in the harness so that she swung out and in. On each inward pass, he struck her buttocks with the antenna broken from his electric cart. “Smack the candy! Smack her good!”

Cyndi choked and sobbed, but then Bobby stopped suddenly, distracted again. Doggy was chuffing at the gate. Bobby dropped the metal rod and picked up a giant rubber toy.

“Here Doggy, I know you’re hungry, pretty soon, I promise.” The crocodile snapped at Bobby’s hand as he threw the toy into its maw.

He went to get Cyndi, she looked so pretty hanging from his ceiling, he would miss this Candy girl, but surely Dad would get him more, now that Daddy loved him. Daddy did like Candy girl too, when he would get home from work Bobby would make her crawl to him and make him happy. Then Daddy would pet Candy and say Bobby was keeping her good. He liked that Bobby kept this one squeaky clean. He would take her in the backyard and hose her, and scrub her all over. The water was icy cold and Cyndi would sometimes lose feeling in her body, she counted that as a blessing.

He lifted Candy off the hook, slinging her over his shoulders, “Time to play with my croc, Candy, hee hee croc-candy.” he giggled to himself at how smart he was. He would give the croc her head and save the tender bottom half for himself, squeezing her thighs as she flopped up and down on his shoulder.

The door clanked open, Doggy filled up the corner as Bobby held her tight by the thighs, waving her hair across the crocodile’s face, “Come on Doggy, let’s play tug of war.”

He was swinging her big, laughing and giggling, tormenting his pet with the meat. On a pronounced upswing he lost his balance and he fell to the floor with a drastic thud. The meat flew off into a wall and landed hard. “Stupid Candy!” he thought, and then there was pain. Doggy had grabbed his head and was twisting him around, “No Doggy NO!”

Cyndi cowered against the wall where she’d landed. She was disoriented, things blurred and her head hurt. The crocodile! Bobby screamed and would not stop, his voice spiraled into hysterical falsetto, “Doggy no, Dog- EEE!”

She watched as the crocodile’s jaws clamped around Bobby’s head, twisting him sideways. She could just make out Bobby’s panicked eyes as Doggy shook him like a rag doll. Bobby’s arms flailed uselessly against the croc’s snout, and his body trembled, his legs scrambling for purchase on the slick tiles. His pants were soaked, and Bobby’s screams soon became liquid gurglings as the croc ratcheted his jaws and broke Bobby’s neck.

Cyndi slid away from the croc as it paused and turned to face the doorway. The crocodile dragged Bobby’s body outside and to the far side of the yard, near its pond. Cyndi lay on the floor, panting and stuporous. Her head hurt where it had struck the wall.

“Got to get out. Get out. Now.” She stood, stumbled to Bobby’s closet and grabbed the key ring from the hook. Dozens of keys! She wept, frantically struggling with the keys, trying them on her collar. None worked. She shook her head, then moaned as the motion sent a pain across her eyes, and she sank to her knees. The collar wasn’t keeping her here, was it? She couldn’t think. Had to get up, had to move.

She grabbed a shirt and wrapped herself in it. A movement caught her eye and she looked up into a mirrored door. Cyndi’s arms pinwheeled and she fell back against the wall. The girl she saw was from Nightmare Time, from Cataclysm. Her face was streaked with rivulets of dark mascara, her eyes red, her lip puffed, one corner split and swollen. Her body was welted wherever the antenna had landed, and she bore bruises everywhere. She tried to work the buttons on the shirt, but her fingers trembled. Cyndi wrapped the shirt tight around her and shuffled out into the grass.

Bobby’s feet protruded from a bank of weeds. She could see the croc’s head twisting side to side as he ripped into Bobby’s belly. Cyndi was sick. She searched the wall and found a gate, and wandered out into the City. “The trees are dark..scary..” she whispered under her breath.

A broad avenue stretched straight into the low sun of the afternoon. There might have been houses on either side of the street, but Cyndi could not see over the walls as she shuffled slowly up the street. Her head hurt, and her feet were unused to the pavement. It burned her feet and the sharp pebbles bruised her. She turned in a slow circle as she walked, trying to see a mountain, find a grove of trees –anything like Haven.

She heard the roar of a bus behind her. Something fuzzy in her head. Hide? She watched the bus pass by. The passengers on the bus began gesticulating when they saw the disheveled girl. Cyndi didn’t notice. She’d spotted a tall pine tree at the crest of the hill. She tried to run to it and fell onto her knees on the sidewalk, cried out, picked herself up, her shirt open, revealing her body to all the eyes which peered out above their walled homes.

“Trees are good. Trees–climb it up and see..” she mumbled as she tried to jump for the bottommost branch of the towering pine. She sobbed frustration as she tried and failed, again and again. Just as she was readying herself for a fifth attempt, sirens blared and a boxy vehicle slewed around the corner and skidded to a stop a few feet from Cyndi’s tree. She swayed and trembled on her feet. “Hunters,” she muttered numbly, looking for the tall grass, for Susan to pull her to safety.

Cyndi broke down, sobbing as four men rushed out of the vehicle and hauled her into the cargo area. Their radios were squawking. The girl was so wiped out, she didn’t even struggle. Talk about easy meat.

“Yeah, Team 43 Leader to Base, got your unknown right here, 3rd and Atlantic, at 1700 hours.”

“Verify at base, 43 Leader. Transport to Goldn-Crisp Girls –the usual fee.”

“Golden Girls? Hell, that’s across town!”

“Tough Titty, heh heh, And listen up, 43–”

“Yeah, Base?”

“Get a fucking receipt.”

---

“Arlene. Arlene! What does it feel like to be meat?” She was going into shock again, Michael was getting angry. He wanted to know, he needed an answer, he had sliced her, opened her chest and removed a section of flesh. Placing it on his grill, filling the air with roasted Arlene, he smacked her face, “Stay with me girl. Can you smell that? Smells good… that’s you.”

She was starting to mumble one of their ridiculous chants, he watched her lungs inhaling and exhaling, he struck her hard, “Tell me Arlene, what does it feel like to be meat!!!”

Marta and Jeannie attended Michael. Marta’s job was to make Jeannie watch, and Jeannie’s job was to suck his cock whenever he felt the need. Right now, Michael had his back to the two of them, intent on catching Arlene’s last impressions. Jeannie rested against Marta. Marta sat against the wall and held Jeannie between her legs, facing outward, her arms around Jeannie’s shoulders, close, snug. Marta leaned down and whispered into Jeannie’s ear.

“Sh, if you cry he’ll only remember you’re here and call for you sooner.” She nuzzled Jeannie’s neck. The smaller girl stifled a whimper and turned to look at Marta.

“Marta, she’s hurting, why doesn’t he stop? Why does he keep hurting her?” She squeezed her eyes shut and two tears spilled out. Marta took Jeannie’s head and turned it so that she was forced to face Arlene. Michael removed the clear plastic sheet he’d used to seal Arlene’s chest cavity. He stood transfixed as the girl struggled to breathe, her lungs unable to work, the seal broken. Her body convulsed.

Both Marta and Jeannie shuddered along with Arlene’s last tortured breaths. Michael timed her with his stopwatch. “Hm, faster than I would have expected.”

The blonde, what was her name, Martha, no… Marta, she was good. Every morning she greeted him right. Mouth on her was grade-A, just like her meat. She was adapting quickly, he liked to torment the little one, Jeannie, in front of her. Tell Marta she was superior to Jeannie, that the little one was a plaything. He only allowed the tiny one to walk on all fours, he liked to kick her in the ass whenever she passed by. Soon Marta was kicking her too.

Arlene was silent now, but part of her sizzled on the stovetop grill. Her meat was tainted with adrenaline; it caused a powerful scent to fill the room. Michael salivated, and the little one turn a bit green. He grinned and sliced off a biteful. “Open wide! ” he said as he squeezed Jeannie’s jaws apart and forced Arlene’s meat inside her mouth.

“Fatten up, piglet. Or it’s the Palace for you. Look at Marta–” He fondled Marta’s breast, kissed her hard, and smiled. “Marta is prime, a perfect specimen.” Jeannie felt even sicker when she saw the glazed expression on Marta’s face, saw her beaming at this sadistic man right over the corpse of a ruined girl. Jeannie cried out and turned her face away, choking, trying to spit out the meat. Michael shot Marta a glance.

“You see Marta how weak she is, how useless?”

Marta bit her lip and nodded. She grabbed Jeannie by the nape of the neck and forced her up onto her knees. The little girl whimpered and protested, “Marta, it hurts, don’t make me.”

Marta’s eyes widened and then she shook her head, slowly. “We’re his now, stupid piglet. Do as I say or—”

Marta reached out, grabbed one of Jeannie’s surprisingly pink nipples, and pinched it, hard. Jeannie yipped and twisted away from her friend. Her friend? Everything was crazy now in this Hunter’s house. All the other girls hated them, no one gathered for roundhouse singing, the only gathering was around Michael’s bed, to service him.

“Is Jeannie tender Marta?” Michael’s words sliced through the moment

Marta pulled Jeannie across her knee, running her hands up her thighs, punching, squeezing, playing with her buttocks, “Oh she is a firm, soft, tender thing. We always knew she would be meat someday.”

Jeannie squawked on Marta’s lap. How could Marta treat her this way? They were sisters, they’d been through First Trials together. Jeannie winced as Marta fondled and pinched her. She didn’t know Marta anymore, that was for sure. Marta didn’t care about Haven or her, not one bit, she only cared about Michael. Such a beast! But Marta couldn’t see it, she seemed to live to please him.

Jeannie squirmed and whimpered, whispering the rescue song. Marta giggled when she heard it. Marta whispered, “Rescue you? Fat chance, you wanted this! Now—”

“Bite her.” Did she hesitate? “Bite her Marta.”

Marta grabbed a healthy portion of Jeannie’s rump and bit down hard, Jeannie screamed, Michael pushed Marta away, marveling at the break in the skin, the blood surfacing. Placing his mouth down her began to suck hard, he stopped to smile at Marta, “Prepare her for me”.

Marta gaped at Michael for a moment then turned her gaze to Jeannie. Time to cook the pig for Michael. Her Michael, she’d please him so much, he’d be amazed. Time to show him she could. Marta felt a distant pang of regret pass through her when she looked down at her sweet bed mate. And then she smirked and grinned and grabbed a length of coarse rope.

“I’d love to,” she whispered. Jeannie lost her place in the song. She sobbed and shook.

Binding Jeannie’s hands behind her, lifting her up, onto her shoulder, bringing her to the kitchen Marta tossed Jeannie down on the wooden prep table, knocking the wind out of her. Marta handled her roughly, smacking her all over, as Michael had taught: bring the blood to the surface. She was deaf to Jeannie’s pleading, marinating her in Michael’s favorite sauce, working it into every groove.

Jeannie knew this was it, that Michael had grown tired of her wheedling. But Marta? Jeannie cried out as Marta slapped and slathered her with sauce, she whispered the chants to take the pain away, anything to distract them. Marta would not be swayed; Jeannie saw the fire in her eyes each time she looked up at the Hunter and he smiled. “Lost girls cannot return, oh Marta, don’t give me to the fires so soon!” Jeannie twisted her head around to look up at her friend.

Marta lifted the girl up by her hair, “Marta please, noooo.” She dropped a metal pan on the table, shackling Jeannie’s feet within it, spreading her wide, yet leaving her perched there. Dusting her exposed vagina with powdered sugar, filling her mouth with honey, “Don’t you dare swallow!”

Marta rammed a small apple deep into Jeannie’s mouth, she took her sharpest nail and began to lightly scratch at the little one’s clit. “Come now Jeannie, don’t keep us waiting, “Marta mocked her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as Jeannie began to convulse, her lower lip trembled, honey and spit seeping out the side, her juice dripping on the metal with tiny taps. Marta ran a finger through Jeannie’s juices, offering it to Michael he sucked hard, a smile creeping across his face. Marta wiped more of Jeannie’s pan drippings onto him and sucked him until he stopped her, “I’m getting hungry.”

Clicking the oven on, she pushed Jeannie down, driving her face into the juice at the bottom of the pan, mixing in her tears with more marinade, she brushed it all over the shivering girl. Marta opened the oven, a wave of heat engulfed Jeannie, as she slid into the increasing heat.

“What was I thinking, Marta? We can’t waste Arlene. Take Jeannie out– maybe tomorrow.” Marta shrieked with delight, jumping on top of him, they began to hump like wild animals on the floor as Jeannie looked down, choking.

For three nights Michael and Marta tortured Jeannie with their game. Jeannie watched them, noticed how each time seemed to excite them more. Once they untied her, dripping and exhausted, and Jeannie was forced to lick Marta while Marta sucked hard on Michael’s shaft. Jeannie cried, her tears salting Marta as she lapped. Marta hurt Jeannie, pressing her head hard into her cleft, not allowing Jeannie any air.

Michael marveled at the big blond girl. Marta was even more malleable than he could have imagined. Later Michael smirked, looking at the two sleeping on the floor there, his big blond Amazon and her pixie. The way the blond had looked, taking the dark one’s face, pressing it into her wetness, arching back, Jeannie against the wall, each time he pounded ramming Jeannie’s face into Marta’s prime cut. That blond cow was loving it, yeah. He had someone here that he could really play with, and there were so many games he could imagine.

---

The manager at Golden Girls was too tired to be amused, “Just show me what you got already without the sales pitch. Christ you Collectors think you’re Hunters!”

Ron took exception, he should have been a Hunter, “Got three tonight, wasn’t easy, these escapees can be dangerous.”

“One scratched my arm,” Gob showed the manager

“Ooh ya got a boo boo. The meat?”, the Manager had enough. Gob went into the back and pulled the first one out, a crying redhead, tears running down her face, Ron turned her around and bent her over. The Manager ran his hands along her back, down her rump and thighs as Ron explained, “She’s thick. Must’ve been getting close to her time and some idiot trusted her out of her cage. Redheads, they got that special sweetness, she would be good for a banquet, look great on a buffet table!”

The Manager nodded, “Ok I’ll take her. Next!” Gob threw the girl to the waiting kitchen staff and quickly pulled another girl from the back, Ron began his pitch, “Nothing sweeter than a blonde! Now this one is a bit skinny, but pinch this thigh, she is soooo tender! She’s got a little ass, but it’s well defined…”

The Manager cut him off, “This scrawny thing is not Golden Girls meat. Nice try. If I were you I’d see of you can pawn her off at Mc Dermott’s, once she’s ground into chuck who cares?”

Gob pushed the girl onto the floor, and grabbed Cyndi’s arm, Ron piped up again, “Check this out!”, bending her over, “tell me your mouth isn’t watering looking at this ass!”

Cyndi was disoriented, dizzy. She had come full circle since her capture, she could smell it. These rough men had delivered her to a restaurant. The scent of roasting meat hung rich in the air. Cyndi’s belly growled, and she sobbed and squeezed her eyes shut, tried to shake her head to will everything away.

The Manager commented, “I like how you spun her around fast, that face is a mess. Somebody really tenderized this meat.”

“Nobody eats the face. Look at this rump and these thighs…”

Cyndi heard a low whistle as the Manager ran practiced hands over her.

“Ok fine, I’ll take her.” He turned to his assistant, “Joey get her cleaned up and get that stupid collar off. Ok boys– 55 credits.”

Ron was outraged, “55!? Come on– the redhead alone is worth 60!”

“First off you waste my time with the blonde, and that brunette is a freaking mess. Take it or leave it.”

Ron sulked, “Ok fine. Hurry up we gotta get over to McD’s before the shift change, I know the Manager there.” Gob slammed the rear door down as Ron collected their fee, he yelled out reminding him about the receipt and soon they were speeding off.

Joey clamped one meaty paw around Cyndi’s neck and pushed her forward. She skidded across slick tile. Joey gripped her shoulders and lifted her in a half-turn until she faced the doorway leading to a bank of showerheads . “Step in, now, meat,” he growled. Cyndi stood motionless, confused. Joey grabbed the handle of the hotshot on his hip and pressed the tip of the wand to Cyndi’s rump. She shrieked and hopped inside. Joey cranked on the water. A twin blast of water assaulted her as she ran the gauntlet, her body spun around by the force of the jets. She was soaped and rinsed, and twice, she fell. Surly attendants clad in slickers yanked her up and propelled her on to the end. Joey toweled her off while Cyndi coughed and shook.

“Get her rubbed down and into the second cube on B row, Joe. Hurry it up, Boss don’t like no gaps in the display cases!” A man clad in a white Gold’n Crisp Girls uniform checked his clipboard and trotted off. Busy night.

Joey pushed Cyndi into place behind a Lucite prism, rectangular, and barely large enough for her to kneel in. Cyndi stood, head down, humming to herself, hardly there at all. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard Susan singing. Susan? Who was that? She couldn’t picture her anymore. Joey was slathering lotion over her, rubbing it into her skin, and sneaking a feel of her whenever he knew the other clerks were busy. “There, yer done. Now, upsy daisy, meatie. In – you – GO!” Joey grunted as he lifted Cyndi into the eye-level display case and pushed her forward until she squeaked in protest. Joey laughed. “Nice tight fit on this one. My god. Lookit that ass. This one’s not gonna last two nights here, even with the love-taps all over her.”

Cyndi was pressed inside the tight case, growing hot and panicked from the confinement. To her left and right, other girls steamed the clear walls when they breathed. No one could move. Cyndi felt her thigh and calf begin to cramp but she could not reach them. Down below, just beneath the row of clear cages, men and women entered with the manager to make their selections. Not women, Cyndi thought. They were.. they were like the fake women back in –where? She was so hot, she couldn’t think. It hurt too much. Beneath her, men argued the merits of the meat. Cyndi pressed her mouth to one of the tiny air vents and let herself slump into a dazed sleep. She could see Susan in her dreams. They lay like spoons in the Roundhouse, singing the sweetest song. Susan told her how to get to Haven. It was so easy in her dream, she was so angry at herself for forgetting. All she had to do was sing the– Cyndi woke as an agonizing cramp seized her and she bruised her cheekbone against the Lucite prison. Something had been so good just then, what was it? She cried frustrated tears. Forgetting something! Someone? Maybe forgetting was good. ———————————————————————— —————

Herbert’s alarm was loud, he wanted to crush it. He hated the nightshift, he hated his new life. He rolled over in bed, empty, everything in his life was empty. Brushing his teeth he would think about her, eating breakfast he tried to picture her there, each day that became harder to do. Sometimes he thought she was a dream, other times it all seemed a nightmare.

He rarely saw the daylight, Late night clean up crew at the restaurant was his penance. At times he wondered if he had fought harder maybe they would have killed him, or at least fried his brain so deep he became one of those mindless drones that work at the energy plant. The true torture was that they let him remember everything, leaving him with a deep ache, a scar that no one could see, and would never heal.

He entered the restaurant, walking beneath the girls in their plastic cages, it was so quiet. He knew the routine, first the butcher case, the girls kneeled in a ball, their rumps against the glass. He took them out easily, knowing they were cramped. The others could care less, pulling them out tossing them onto the steel tables, rub the oils in, and then into their cages for the night. Herbert tried to consider them each Cyndi, taking time to massage their aching joints, he didn’t try to offer solace, not even sure what that might be.

They were always yelling at him, telling him he was slow. He was still not finished when they started dumping the girls out of the display cubes. They would stand beneath them looking up at the girls asses, spread out on the plastic, yank the trap door and let them plop on the ground, judging their falls, “9.5! 4.0, this one tried to catch herself!” “Come on Herbert, grab the last one!”

He positioned himself underneath, he never let them hit the ground. He caught her, the poor girl, someone had really beat her bad. Brushing back her hair, her eyes all glossed over, so sad, so… Cyndi? Herbert had to check himself, he had thought he’d seen her before, and this poor girl’s lip was swollen and cracked, but her eyes! He didn’t want anyone to know, dragging her down to the basement cages, he waited for the others to go on break. He sat down and cradled her in his arms, stroking her hair, asking, “Cyndi is that you? Tell me it’s you. I’m not crazy! Cyndi?” He held his head against her and wept, together on the cold stone floor, his anguish echoing off the walls.

Cyndi felt soft strokes against her, arms around her. A face, who was that? She knew better than to talk. They beat you when you talk. They bring scaly monsters, too. She felt so dizzy. Why was he shaking her, why didn’t he just put her back away. Leave her alone. This face.

Herbert knew this may be the only opportunity he would have, no one was watching and they would be on break for at least another 25 minutes. He grabbed a dirty pair of overalls and slipped her into it, “Please Cyndi help me.” Nothing, it was like she was broken.

Dress up. Bobby? Bobby liked dress up, she remembered him now. Clothes chafed against her skin. This .. face. This one was so insistent. Cyndi whimpered as he forced her up and on her feet again. Her legs were rubbery, and this man, he made her walk and it hurt. But he smelled like– Like home? Cyndi shook her head. She was afraid to stare at him too long.

Holding her up he shoved all her hair under a wool cap. If anyone asked he would say his buddy got injured at work and he was helping him home. Helping her to walk out the back door, he tried to encourage her to walk, bearing her weight they were making little progress.

Behind the Golden Girls he paused, trying to decide what route to the woods would get them the least attention. He was agitated and hurried, she was getting heavier by the minute. Taking the alleyways, through puddles and over garbage, suddenly they stood before a dead end. Herbert realized they would have to try the streets. emerging in front of the Trophy Shop with its huge neon sign, “Remember their beauty long after the meat is gone!”

They’d ended up in front of the premier shop for meatgirl “Shell” preservation. Herbert shuddered at the row of girls, most standing statuesque in slim, tall crystal-clear boxes. The boxes were clever, giving the illusion of a fresh-caught girl awaiting her fate, her dinner date, but standing tall to meet the fires, not cramped into the crouch like those at Goldn-Crisp Girls. They looked so perfect. The center display was fascinating, a video of the whole process of skinning, plastinating the skin and filling it to the exact proportions of the meatgirl who wore it, before the skins, the hollow shells of the eaten girls, were preserved in resin. The Trophy Shop window contained four crystal cocoons filled with the hollow lovely husks of girls. The video droned on, “Eye color to spec! Change her any way you like!” Herbert shook his head and looked away.

He saw the horror in Cyndi’s face, this was bad. She started walking towards the window, unable to take her eyes off the girls encased in resin. “Cyndi no! We can’t stop here!” She didn’t hear him. Tears ran down her face, as she scratched her nails across the glass. She’d stopped in front of a lovely brunette, tall and proud and strong. Cyndi’s eyes cleared, and her dazed _expression had sharpened into painful grief and horrified recognition. She released the loudest wail he had ever heard.

“Susan! Oh my sweetest one, oh no. oh no, oh Susan! Susan!!” She knelt in front of the shell of her dearest love and shrieked out her torment in strangled cries. Too much! It all came flooding back, the capture in the woods, the bonds, the clerks—but no! “No! Not my Susan, No, it cannot be, oh Mother, no, not her! Not her!” Cyndi pounded her fists against the glass and wailed.

She wouldn’t stop crying it would bring attention! Suddenly he just started to sing… “Let your sorrows out, let your lover see them, Let her body soothe your hurts away. Give me all the pain you’re feeling. Take strength and healing, let me stay. ”

She turned to face him, recognition in her eyes, “Herbert?”

Herbert opened his arms and caught her as she fell. “Yes.” He said. He carried her into the dark and held her, crooning the healing song. He found a disused basement that could shield them for a while. That night whenever her eyes flew open she cried out, “Susan! No!” He answered, “It’s ok, Cyndi, It’s Herbert, and I’m here.”

At last her body lost its quivering tension and her breathing settled into a softer rhythm. Just before she slept she let her arms slip around Herbert, first tentative, then sure, then desperate. “Never leave me, please. You are my Haven now, my Herbert. Please.”

Herbert pulled her close, and their tears intermixed, and then they slept. They had so very far to go.