Katlin nervously pulled back the kitchen window drape looking for the umpteenth time for Susie’s car. "Look at the time! It’s almost eight and we still have a good hours drive to the game ranch." Impatiently she snatched yet another cigarette from her pack.

Katlin and Susan were college mates and this was their year to host their annual college reunion bash. Competition for the most memorable affair had heated up from year to year. Each hostess went all out to top all previous affairs. The gala events were judged not only on the dinner, but on the ambience as well. Last year’s celebration was hosted in an over-the-top Victorian mansion. The dinner was delightful also, featuring a baron of beef cooked to perfection. This year, Katlin and Susan were determined to outdo all the preceding affairs with a whole roasted jack. Jacques - the flesh of human males or jacks was now readily available all year around.

However, jacques remained frightfully expensive, even in small quantities; too expensive for a couple of hard working girls to buy in a store. Initially, an annual Hunt was introduced in order to control male numbers. Young "civilian" men aged form eighteen to twenty-one were required to register for the Hunt for three years running. Each season, jacks were required o report to a specified hunting preserve and participate as fair game. Failure to register, or present himself to his designated preserve was punishable by immediate imprisonment and assignment to one of the abattoirs for processing. Jack’s surviving the three seasons were given their freedom and allowed to live the rest of their lives as faithful servants to their mistress. If a mistress could not be found they were reserved as breeding stock until such time they could not perform sexually. Older breeding males usually ended up as juicy cheeseburgers in one of a dozen fast-food chains specializing in Jack Burgers.

Later, families were allowed to consign their unwanted male offspring to 'ranches’ and receive a government bounty. The wealth saved by the cessation of war and the disappearance of violent crime provided more than enough money to fund the iniitaitive. The ranches prepared the jacks for their eventual trip to market.

Now, cloning and ex-vivo gestation were being perfected and the resulting jacks were a much preferred to their ad hoc brothers. Sows were the preferred surrogate mothers. Their employment reinforced the prevailing notion that males - all males - were nothing more than Pigs. The clones yielded more meat per kilogram of feed and their quality was more reliable. The capacity of the abattoirs was exceeded.

In planning for the event, Katlin came across an advertisement for a game ranch in outside of town. The game ranch provided an opportunity for someone to take her own jack without the exertion and uncertainty of the Hunt. For $1500 each, the women could have a full day hunting at Lucerne’s. It was a protected preserve meaning that the hunters were protected from the jacks by specially constructed enclosed "trails" which winded through the preserve. The heavy mesh wire enclosures protected the women but allowed a good field of fire for the taking of game. For humane reasons hunters were armed with tranquilizer guns only. To many jacks had been damaged by sublethal hits.

Lawmakers deemed it cruel and wasteful to have inexperienced hunters bang away at some poor jack more often wounding than killing him outright. Moreover, most hunters were inexperienced at cleaning and butchering the meat, with much of it spoiling before it ended up on the dinner table. Lucerne’s offered a complete packaged day of hunting. All "kills" were transported to a pleasant handsomely appointed processing center where the jacks were slaughtered and butchered professionally. Hunters could choose how they wanted their kills butchered as well as avail themselves to a host of preserve suppliers that offered a variety of services.

In addition to butchering the ladies could select catering services that had the facilities to serve large dinning groups as well as equipment to oven roast whole larger jacks? Some women preferred to have their jacks smoked or spit roasted. Display cases lining the back of the building presented leather goods fashioned from jack skin. A complete assortment of clothing and accessories fashioned from jack hides included purses, handbags, gloves, skirts and tank tops.

Impatiently Katlin snubbed out her cigarette just as she heard Susan’s car pull into her driveway. "Good God lady what are you thinking! Look at the time! We’re going to be late after paying $3000 bucks!" "Take it easy girl", quipped Susan, "they’ll still be there even if we are a few minutes late." Sliding into the passenger seat Susan and Katlin started for Highway 56 and the hour’s drive to the preserve.

Perched on the center council of her Ford were two steaming cups of coffee. "Mmm, smells wonderful," said Katlin as she popped the lid of her coffee. "That’s better you old grouch, I made it as quick as I could...just look at my hair! Said Susan. "Oh come on girl we’re not going to a cocktail party, do you think the jacks mind what you look like? Remember we’re there to hopefully shoot one of them and cook him for our dinner. Believe me the only thing he’ll mind is ending up on the end of our forks.," chuckled Katlin.

Both women chatted breezily as they smoked and drank their coffee. "I hope we get a cute one with a big cock," blurted Susan. "God Susan is his cock the only thing you can thing of? I’ll be looking for a nice fat one, you know well marbled so he’ll roast up tender and juicy. If he’s cute great...a giant cock would also be nice for an appetizer!" Both women were still laughing as they pulled into the preserves parking lot.

Walking across the graveled parking lot they entered the building with the Check-In here sign. Like all of the feasibilities at Lucerne’s it was well appointed. Waiting to check in Susan admired the leather goods display cases. A receptionist clad in a smart tailored uniform crossed quickly to the two waiting ladies. "Welcome to Lucerne’s she said as she took the day’s hunting receipts from the women. "First time here?" she inquired politely. Kaitlin responded first, "First time here and first time hunters". "That’s wonderful, I’m sure you’ll have a marvelous experience. Have you ever tasted jack meat?" inquired the pretty receptionist.

"Yes", answered Susan and that’s why we came. I would absolutely gorge myself on the stuff if I could afford it, but it’s sooo expensive! I just know today we’re going to go out there and find us a lovely, plump, tender jack who wants to be our dinner guest and will gladly hold still long enough for one of us to shoot him," snickered Susan.

"Well I hope you’re right but some of our jacks have this thing of not wanting to end up on a serving platter, I can’t understand why", laughed the receptionist.

"Oh we’ll get one you just wait and see, if nothing else Susan’s hair will stop him dead in his tracks", Kaitlin quipped. All the women laughed as they walked to the hunters preparation room.

"What’s going on in there?" Said Susan pointing to a group of seated women listening to a strikingly pretty young blond presenter leaning over a whole young jack lying on a butcher’s block. "Oh that’s our indoctrination course of how to butcher and cook your jack. Your welcome to attend, it is included with your tickets", said the receptionist.

"Is he alive, I mean is she really going to slaughter him?" asked Katlin incredulously.

"Oh yes, this plump hotty is on the menu for tomorrow’s banquet. Actually Karen Lyle, that pretty brunette sitting on the end, took him yesterday. Linda will do the cooking, isn’t she just the prettiest thing? I saw the menu this morning, let’s see, whole oven roasted jack, cornbread stuffing, served on a bed of romaine lettuce surrounded by baby russet potatoes...sounds yummy doesn’t it?"

"Why don’t you go in for the lecture/ demonstration before your hunt," suggested the uniformed guide pleasantly.

Susan and Kaitlin entered small the wedge-shaped amphitheater. The room was about half filled with people of all ages. A fair number visited the Lucerne’s just to take the tour and not hunt at the game ranch. Adults waited expectantly while small children ran up and down the aisles noisily. Karen Lyle sat in the very front row, wearing a badge and broad red ribbon, while her jack lay naked, gagged and bound on a gurney at the front of the room. Behind him, a wall of TV screens stretched from floor to ceiling. The braver children ran to the front where their carefree exuberance was suddenly transformed to wariness as they approached male with obvious trepidation. He looked at them with an equal wide-eyed terror.

A neatly dressed, uniformed guide came from backstage. She checked to see if the jack was bound securely and satisfied, greeted the group cheerfully with a bright smile and a warm "hello." Her white teeth were brilliant against her dark complexion. The show was about to begin and the children dashed to their seats.

"Welcome to Lucerne’s," she said. "Welcome to Lucerne’s. My name is Lucerne. No, my name is Madeleine, actually. I just wish my name were Lucerne - or rather - my mother’s name were Lucerne and I owned the place. As it is, I just work here when I’m not at the University." At least a portion of the audience was chuckling after her feeble attempt at humor. The jack struggled mightily against his bonds, but fruitlessly. Madelaine touched him gently to calm him down, then she continued. "Today you’ll learn what just what happens to our friend Karen Lyle’s fine jack, as we process him - prepare him - for your table. You’ll see a short video in this room. When it’s completed, the doors will open to your left. Please move promptly down your row when the green lights come on - no pushing or shoving - to the corresponding row in the next amphitheater. Remember- no pushing and no running. A warning, the video is quite accurate and unfortunately, quite graphic, and may not be suitable for young children. If anyone has concerns, we’re showing cartoons in the room to your right. My colleague, Ashley, is there to supervise." Ashley stuck out her pertly coifed blonde head and waved. "You can pick up your children after the video and they may accompany you to the second station, where you will see just how a jack is processed to become jacques for your table." The gurney rattled and swayed as the jack renewed his struggle against his bonds. However, Madeleine steadied it in time and avoided a catastrophe.

Many mothers took their younger children to the cartoons and returned quickly to their seats. Several adults left also. The room grew dark and the screens came to life. Chattering died and swiftly, the room became silent. Madeleine wheeled the jack from the amphitheater through a rear door.

The image of a bombed out city appeared on screen. The wails of air raid sirens reached a painful intensity. Poorly dressed, poorly fed people scurried from place to place, looking for safety and a moment’s peace. Gradually a new city, better than the last, arose from the rubble, but armies marched again. They displayed their crisp new uniforms and endless lines of tanks and artillery. Suddenly, destruction rained from the sky as ICBM’s fell and mushrooms clouds rose.

The image of a bombed-out city was quickly replaced by the equal devastation of a burned out slum. A half dozen squad cars braved a fusillade of sniper fire and pulled up to the door of a well kept apartment building. A dozen officers, mostly women, rushed up the stairs. They burst out of the stair well with guns drawn and dashed down the corridor. The officers crashed through the locked door and skidded to a stop on the blood-slick floor. To their obvious revulsion, they encountered a scene of horror. A dozen women lay like discarded dolls. Their clothes were in varying degrees of disarray. Some had been stabbed, some had been strangled, and some had been simply bludgeoned to death. A breast had been cut from one and two other’s belly showed gaping wounds. Several officers gagged and vomited - the males among them. On the back fire escape, the male perpetrator held up his knife and bowed before disappearing into the darkness.

Susan whispered that she couldn’t take any more. She and several others stood and walked quickly to the exit. One mother dragged her crying youngster from the auditorium. Apparently, the scenes were just too intense. Susan thought that she might as well look over the leather display. Outside, the aroma of jacques roasting over a mesquite fire was tantalizing and she wondered just how long the damned show might take.

The camera itself withdrew from the carnage and moved back on the street where it followed a women jogger out for an evening’s run. She ran down the quiet street and into a deserted park. Suddenly, four men emerged from the darkness and pulled her down. She screamed and fought desperately as they tore the clothes from her body.

The camera moved again and showed the inside of a tidy, small apartment. A obviously, tired young woman with a baby on her hip was showing a sheaf of papers to a larger male, about her age, who apparently lived in the same apartment with her. His reaction was rage. He struck her and she and her infant fell.

The camera shifted once again to the woman struggling with her assailants in the park. Suddenly, four masked figures dressed in black emerged from the darkness. They devastated the men with their martial arts skills. One man broke free, and turned back, brandishing a pistol. Some one in the audience screamed. The point of a shuriken blossomed from his chest, thrown by the fifth rescuer, who now removed her black mask revealing a woman’s face.

One face became many as the Women’s Liberation Army formed and grew from a rag tag band of radicals and revolutionaries to an irresistible fighting force. The few males who participated were prominently featured. The males opposing them degenerated from armed and trained regulars to a little more than animals armed only with their eagerness to kill and rape. Old footage followed of the WLA’s march on Washington and its symbolic destruction of the overtly phallic Washington Monument.

The scene changed abruptly to gang of girls hiking carefree through the woods. A second scene showed women of all ages walking down a street at night with no element of fear or foreboding. A hunter took aim at a large jack and let loose her arrow. A beaming grandmother served a roast to her grown daughters and her granddaughters in her comfortable house. She hefted a heavy serving platter boasting a haunch of jacques and placed it in the center of the table. Enthusiasm was apparent on everyone’s face as she honed her carving knife and prepared to serve her family.

The screen blanked out. The side doors swung open and the green lights came on. A few people applauded, unsure what they were supposed to do. The audience, some somewhat shaken rose to their feet and filed into the second amphitheater.

Susan found it difficult to believe that at one time males slaughtered each other by the hundreds of thousands and then left their bodies to rot in the field. What a waste! Fortunately, society was now organized more rationally. The leather goods were exquisite and very expensive. They more than occupied her attention until the movie was completed. She simply found some things too upsetting. She did not deny that they happened, but she just preferred not to think about them when she had a chance. When she saw that the movie had finished, she put down the gloves that she had been examining and rushed to rejoin the group. Fortunately, Kaitlin had thoughtfully saved her a seat.

Madeleine stood in front with the poor jack strapped securely to his gurney. "Now, we really get down to business," she said. "Our jacks have been sent here by their families for the government bonus. We also get jacks here who are sent by the Courts. Lucerne’s follows only the most humane and hygienic procedures. We’re proud to be members of PET’M - People for the Ethical Treatment of Males. I want to thank Karen Lyle for lending us her jack for today’s demonstration." Karen, a heavy set middle aged woman, half stood and waved. Her smile half proud and half chagrinned at being the center of attention, beamed over her official badge and bright red ribbon.

Even the poor jack was entranced by Madeleine’s monologue. He didn’t notice when she placed the capture-bolt pistol against his skull and pulled the trigger. His head jerked from the impact and a thin trickle of blood dripped down his face. His body went slack. Madeleine replaced the pistol in it’s place under the gurney. "We stun the jacks before slaughter," she explained. The procedure is completely painless and jacks don’t really feel pain like real people do anyway."

Two attendants emerged from somewhere and hung the limp form by his heels. Hanging, his impressive size was fully apparent for the first time. His feet rose up above Madeleine’s head and his muscled forearms still rested folded on the floor. His male apparatus hung forward limply, exposing both the underside of his penis and his fat scrotum. All could clearly see the broad aluminum band that circled his sex to prevent any sort of obscene reaction on his part.

"His heart’s still beating," Madeleine explained. She recruited a volunteer from the front row who felt his chest and confirmed the heartbeat. "The next step is called 'sticking. I’ll make a deep incision on either side of his neck and severe the large blood vessels. Who knows what they’re called?" she asked as she positioned a wide basin to catch the draining blood.

"Jugular vein," someone answered tentatively.

"Carrot artery," answered another enthusiastic young voice.

Even Madeleine had to smile. "Car-o-tid artery," she corrected gently, pronouncing each syllable distinctly, as she drew her finely hone blade across the left side of his throat. "We don’t want to cut the food tube - esophagus - or windpipe - trachea. Thick red blood cascaded into the basin. The room filled with its sweet, metallic smell. She drew her blade across the right side of his neck. "Thorough draining preserves the quality of the meat," she explained. "The next step is scalding. Karen, might you come up to help?"

Embarrassed, Karen stood up while two attendants placed the carcass in the steam chamber, closed and sealed the glass door, set the timer and pressed the button. The chamber filled with steam. Everyone laughed while Karen wiggled into the overlarge blue poncho with the prominent Lucerne’s logo and put on her waterproof hat, high boots, and long-sleeved gloves. After five minutes, the lobster red carcass was retrieved. One attendant hosed him down quickly as the steam had elicited a messy physiological reaction. He had lost both his bowels and his stomach contents. Once he had been hosed down, Karen and the other attendant went at him with their coarse brushes. His body hair came loose in gobs together with his outer layer of skin. The second attendant hosed him down again and the first lathered him up from his toes to his head, lavishing special attention his sex and the area around his anus. Karen removed her gear, perspiring and a bit out of breath, while the second attendant hosed him off once more.

"The next step is the necessary unpleasantness - evisceration," Madeleine explained. "Removing the icky parts," she added for her younger audience. "It’s rather messy and boring, so we’ll only show you how we start. Karen, I need you again."

Still flushed from exertion, Karen gamely accepted the smallish blade. She held the knife awkwardly and viewed her task with trepidation. Madeleine showed her how to hold the scrotum away from the body and severe it with a smooth sawing motion. Karen learned quickly and performed admirably. She held up her prize for all to see.

The doors to the right opened again and the green light went on while the attendants carried the castrated carcass off the stage. "Exit to your right," Madeleine directed. "Move smartly, but no running or pushing. We’ve place for everyone. The attendants took away Karen’s jack for gutting. They had another subject ready for the next station.

"At Lucerne’s," Madeleine explained, "we skin the carcasses while they’re still warm. This is one more critical step that helps to preserve meat quality. Hunters in the field, often leave the skin on to protect the meat until they get the carcass home. The skin slows cooling and secretions from sweat glands may give the meat an off-flavor." She wrinkled up her nose and made a face. "Flaying a jack is a highly skilled job. A properly taken skin is quite valuable - in the thousands of dollars. Jenna here has had years of practice. Don’t try this at home - please".

Jenna, a medium build brunette woman in her mid thirties, wheeled a gutted jack on stage. His unseeing eyes surveyed the audience with equanimity. His carcass had been opened throat to pelvis and he had been hog dressed - completely eviscerated. The red of his fillet’s gleamed moistly against the ivory white of his spine bones. Jenna smiled at the audience, then turned and opened her kit. She quickly cut circles around his wrists and ankles. With a sureness of hand, she made long slits from his ankles to groin and his wrists to his collarbones and then literally peeled him like one would peel a banana. Even the children in the audience were enthralled. She used the dull edge of her blade to free the skin from the underlying tissues. In minutes, she stood beside the flayed jack, her gloves and jumpsuit sleeves covered up to the elbows in blood, and displayed the entire richly mahogany skin taken so neatly in one piece with a bow and a flourish. The audience applauded.

A third jack was used at the next station. At Lucerne’s the flayed carcasses were cooled quickly and hung for several days before they were butchered so that rigor mortis might come and go and the meat stretch on the bone. Megan, her name tag proclaimed, showed how she removed the head, notoriously the least important part of the male anatomy. Severing the head, severed the creature’s already vague connection with anything human. Using a power saw, she efficiently halved and quartered the carcass and showed the fascinated audience just where the familiar commercial cuts of meat were derived. Each cut was matched with a preprinted label to complete the demonstration.

The audience stirred in their seats, tantalized by the aromas coming form the next and final station. There, they found a pair chefs in dazzling white uniforms shaving slices of crispy jacques from a jack turning lazily on a spit. They formed two lines, more or less, and waited impatiently for their turns. Their previous orderliness and good humor was noticeably diminished by the immediate prospects of such a treat.

No one much listened as Madeleine vainly explained that Lucerne’s sold jacques by the entire carcass, half, or quarter as well as commercial cuts. She said that garcon could be purchased on special order and invited everyone for a tour of the game ranch. Anyone who had questions could ask her during the lunch. Many of the girls and even a few of the older women were anxious to see the cute little joeys.

No one else may have heard her, but Susan and Kaitlin did. They waited behind a mother with her daughter and her 3 12-year old friends. They were studying anatomy in school, she explained. They wanted a heart. Madeleine smiled and called on her cell phone to make the necessary arrangements. .

Susan and Kaitlin waited their turn in line and savored the roast jacques. "You’ve a smudge on your upper lip," Kaitlin told Susan. "No the other side - there!

"Can you imagine that some people just won’t eat jacques," Susan marveled. She paused for a moment to use her napkin while enjoying her second serving.

"No one who’s tasted it!" Kaitlin retorted. "Once you’ve had jacques, you’ll never go back." It was difficult to believe that at one time males slaughtered each other by the hundreds of thousands and then let their bodies rot in the field.

When their turn came, Susan and Kaitlin thanked Madeleine for the informative and educational demonstration. They told her that they were scheduled for a hunt - their first.

Madeleine explained that the ranch had two sets of pens - used alternately for hunting and touring. The jacks were sorted by size. They only need tell their guide what they wanted and she would escort them to the proper area. Lucerne’s now had laser-sited dart rifles and markswomanship should not be much of an issue. If they took their jack this afternoon, he would recover from the sedative and be ready for their amusement tonight. Then he would be ready for processing in the morning.

Michael awoke damp, cold, and naked. He had been naked so much recently, he paid his lack of clothing no particular notice. He was still wet from some sort of washing. Fluid dribbled uncomfortably from between his buttocks. He half sat and half lay on some sort of raised platform about the size of bed in a small dimly lit room. His wrists were secured above his head to the wall above his head. His left ear burned where they had punched a hole in the cartilage and attached a red cardboard tag with a plastic tie. The bonds were inescapable.

Gradually, his mind cleared and he gave thought to what had brought him to this state. He threw his head back in frustration and struck the unyielding wall. However, he really hadn’t the will to do himself any substantial damage. Others were more than ready to help him out in that regard.

It had all started innocently enough. He went hiking at Red Lake Reservoir with Tad, Megan, and Sarah. Megan and Sarah had gone away to college in the Fall and had returned for the summer and it was just like old times. They played some silly hide and seek game and he found himself skulking through the brush. The day was so warm and sunny. The air was fragrant with the fecund aromas of the forest. Here he was cold and wet and the cell reeked of institutional cleansers. Back then, he hadn’t had a care in the world. He was having a greatb summer with good friends. His first Hunt was in the spring - 9 months away.

At the water’s edge, he heard female voices and laughter a way’s up the beach. For some reason, he took it upon himself to investigate and found 3 women frolicking in the crystal clear water. They were skinny dipping and he recognized them from school, Michelle, Heather, and Alicia. He grinned broadly at his discovery. This would be a great tale for the guys back at school!

Suddenly, they saw him and they just started to scream. At first, Michael didn’t know why they were screaming. He looked to his left and to his right to see if he could see what they were screaming about. Only after a long moment, he finally realized that he must be the source of their consternation. He really didn’t know what to do. He shook off his disbelief, then turned and ran. However, he had hesitated and he was lost.

Tiny as she was, Alicia charged up out of the water after him like a lioness defending her cubs. Stark naked and barefoot, she pursued him with surprising speed despite the rough and rocky ground. Michael ran too and with desperation. He was a bit on the plump side - or perhaps a bit more than a bit. He was never very athletic and soon gasped for breath. Alicia, on the other hand, carried not a decagram of excess weight and ran cross-country. Lithe and nimble, she dashed over the difficult ground, never flagging for an instant. She seemed to run faster and faster as she ran with no hint of fatigue. Soon she caught him. In her mindless rage, she tackled him with no pause or hesitation, even though he twice outweighed her.

Michelle and Heather had grabbed their towels and followed after, somewhat less ardently. Michael’s friends, Tad, Megan and Sarah heard the screams and followed the sounds to their source. All discovered big Michael wrestling on the ground with a wet,slippery, and naked Alicia. Michael’s hand pressed against her soft breast, the only thing soft on her wiry frame. He knew that he was in trouble.

Attempted rape, the police officer had said. Heather, Michelle, and a now clothed Alicia agreed shaking their heads. Megan, Sarah, and Tad shook their heads in disbelief.

"Strip him!" Alicia insisted, her anger still burning. "He’s seen me naked and now I want to see him naked too."

The police officer thought the request reasonable and ordered Michael to remove his clothes. He complied, wrestling off his shoes and socks, hoping to win some sort of consideration by his quick obedience. He stopped when he got to his briefs.

"He’s still not naked," Alicia pointed out. Chagrinned, Michael removed his shorts.

Alicia, now grinning ear to ear, gestured for him to turn around. "You’re a big fellow- nice, heavy muscle tissue - a little on the plump side and not all that well cut."

"You’re right, Alicia." Michelle agreed. "He’ll make a fine jack though. Lots and lots of good eating, 'mm 'mm." Michael trembled visibly. "Mikey, that’s your name, right?" she continued. Michael nodded his head. "Well Mikey, lift up your cock, I want to see your balls. I wonder if the judge will award Alicia your fucking ball sac? My mom raises jacks. I think that a nice chubby fellow like you ought to cook up nicely on a spit, you know, self basting."

Michael hadn’t worn clothes since that day.

His mother had even hired an attorney and she had even come to visit him in prison. The lawyer’s native beautiful was amplified by her expert hair and makeup. She dressed attractively and the effect was awesome. When she entered the conference room, Michael stood and literally threw himself at her feet. He knelt and pressed his cheek against the flawless leather of her booted leg. He wanted to embrace her but his wrists were secured behind his back. He even cried.

She was startled by his actions, but quickly realized that he meant her no harm. She touched him softly on the back of his head and gently urged him to return to his seat. He still remembered the intoxicating fragrance of her perfume. She sat herself and laid her manskin briefcase on the table. She had seemed so articulate and so much in control when she carefully explained his position to him.

The charge was attempted rape, Councilor Lisa Bentley had explained patiently. Alicia, Michelle, and Heather would testify against him. The officer had also seen him wrestling on the ground with a naked Alicia. If his family contested the accusation, he would have a hearing. His friends had all agreed to testify for him. If he were found innocent, fine. If he were found guilty, he would be consigned to a ranch as a jack. He would not be allowed to participate in the Hunt in the spring. His mother and sisters would not be allowed to sign him over the government bonus in lieu of the Hunt. She paused and asked him if he had any questions.

He shook his head, no.

The attorney had taken a deep breath, looked at him softly with her precisely made-up eyes, and continued. His mother had been sad, but she had decided to sign him over for the bonus. It was the rational choice, she emphasized. His sisters could use the money for college. He’d likely lose at the hearing anyway. No, his mother and sisters really wanted to come and see him, but - poor dears - they were simply too distraught. They knew that he would understand. He should know that they loved him still, whatever he had done.

On the way out, the lawyer stopped to talk to a guard. Michael overheard their conversation.

"What do you think?" the guard asked.

"His family is signing him over for the bonus," responded the attorney. "You know how the courts view male attacks on people. I’m sure it’s the right decision. "

"Do you think he’s guilty!" the guard responded.

"The case against him is pretty strong on the face of it. But you know, he seems pretty inoffensive - at least now. He doesn’t seem angry, aggressive, or out of control. Psychological testing could help us, if that were still allowed for males. But you know, it’s not really what he did or didn’t do or wy he di whatever he did. It’s just whether the hearing officer finds him guilty or innocent."

"What a waste!" responded the guard.

"I don’t know," the counselor responded. "I don’t hate males, whatever males may have done to us in the past. I enjoy sex with a male as much as anyone, but just look at the boy. Some males just cry out to be fucked. We’ve got a new boy at the club, buffed and cut with washboard abs, and a velvety, thick cock that stays hard forever. He really knows how to use his mouth and he has a tongue that can literally touch your soul." She felt herself moistening at her fond recollection. This one here," she checked her papers. "This Michael here, is quite large, but so wonderfully meaty and plump. He just cries out eaten. Imagine him spitted and turning slowly over a mesquite wood fire. He will certainly keep the chef busy, protecting his meat from scorching, extinguishing the flames that are certain to erupt when his fat drips into the fire. Imagine, the delicious slices of luscious jacques." She found herself salivating, her mouth moistening. "There’ll be plenty for everyone. My sorority is planning a jack roast - wouldn’t that be some sort of coincidence."

"Hey, you’re making me hungry," said the guard, grinning at the evocative power of the attorney’s words. "I can’t go to lunch for another two hours. And what about my diet."

"Jacques is too expensive to make you fat!"

A day later, Michael found himself in a large building with scores of 5 meter square pens. Two foot-high letters were scrawled on his front and back. The same two letters were placed on a list with his pen number next to the identification number that had been tatooed behind his left ear on the day he was born. He was placed in a pen with about 10 other males about the same weight as he.

All through the day women toured the facility with clip boards in hand. They entered their bids on the males - jacks on display. Some represented the ranches where jacks were fattened for slaughter. Some women were hobbyists. With adequate space and time, one might fatten a jack for a year, then take him to slaughter and save about one half over the steep retail purchase. Several woman might share one jack. The processing plants looked for jacks who were ripe for slaughter already and might be slaughtered and butchered directly with no further investment in food and care.

Lucerne’s, a game ranch, also looked for likely jacks and joeys. They served a special clientele who wanted some of the thrill of the hunt with no more than a small taste of the rigor and exertion. They also wanted the certainty of a retail purchase.

Lucerne’s purchased Michael and several others. He was shackled and ushered into the Lucerne’s van by a good humored young woman whose blond hair was tied back into a pert ponytail. Her name tag read Ashley.

On game ranches prior to the Revolution, the deer or elk were shot while they grazed in peace, utterly unaware of their pre-ordained fate. Many had even become somewhat accustomed to the presence of the so-called hunters.

Jacks were somewhat smarter and learned too quickly from the fates of their fellows. A different approach was devised. Several times a day, every jack was made to run a U-shaped gauntlet. After a short first leg, the course took a hard left turn. Encouraged by two attendants with cattle prods, the jack made the turn and dashed past the "hunters" positioned in a blind to the side of the course. Only rarely was the blind at the far end of the course used.

Jacks who refused to run were simply taken to the abattoir for processing. Most jacks had numerous successful runs before they were taken and so most developed a vast confidence in their own invulnerability. Some became adept at shouting insults and obscenities at the hiding hunters.

The hunters were armed with air rifles firing darts tipped with pan curare, a rapid-acting paralyzing agent. If a jack fell, he was quickly carried from the course, tagged, and taken to the processing plant. Any jack who crossed a broad white home stripe was accounted safe whether he had been hit or not. There an attendant waited with an antidote for the poison, if needed. The jack who followed had no knowledge of the fate of the one who preceded him.

The state legislature had outlawed conventional weapons. The unskilled women hunters wounded too many jacks and failed kill them cleanly. Conventional weapons inflicted wounds that left large bruises and decreased the yield of meat. This way, however, jacks were best slaughtered the next day after the poison had cleared completely from their systems.

Three times a day, Michael stood in his position in the chute and nervously waited his turn. Three times a day, he made the mad dash. He had been almost surprised to complete his first run alive and unscathed. Now he had come to expect it. He stood in line and traded encouragements with his fellows. Most were in their late teens like him, but a few were younger too, no more than joeys. The more experienced hands shared advise generously with those less experienced. They warned not to run a simple, straight line at top speed. Changes in speed and direction could make you a more difficult target.

One fellow named Charlie, who seemed to have been there forever, bragged how he would pause before the blind and dance around, blatantly daring the hunters to shoot him. Darts whizzed all around, he bragged, but the women seemed too flustered to actually hit him or else he was just too fast - or lucky. No other male ever got a chance to see him at work, but all had heard him shout his taunts at the "butt-sucking bitches" and "fish-stinking cunts."

Michael had been pleasantly surprised by his success. He was most surprised on the first day and less so on each succeeding day, but every day was a renewed wonder. He had survived the morning run unscathed, the afternoon run and the evening run. He heard the errant darts whiz by him and kept jigging and jagging, time after time, day after day.

One day, old Charlie ran right before him. He set out with his usual, jaunty grin and cocky wave. He jogged out to the attendants who monitored the turn, then turned back, smiled and waved. Seconds later they heard the usual "butt sucking bitch," "shit dribbling ass-holes," and "stinking cunt." Charlie often asked the others to help him devise more creative invective. But this time, the strident taunting stopped abruptly midphase and was replace the female cheers and congratulations.

Michael had little time to think about the implications. His turn was next. His luck had also run out. He never saw the red light of the laser site and never felt the dart that hit him. They say you never do. One second his arms and legs were pumping and then one second later, though his mind remained clear and ordered his arms and legs to carry him to safety, they simply wouldn’t listen. He collapsed in a heap, arms and legs flaccid. He heard the sound of feminine cheers triumph from the blind and then discovered that he couldn’t breath. He was unconscious when the attendants carried his from the course and tagged his left ear.

Kaitlin was surprised that she had hit anything, even with the laser site on her air rifle, the one hour of instruction, and two hours of practice that she and Susan had taken before venturing out onto the course in the late afternoon. The blind was in an uproar after an attendant had taken it on herself to silence foul-mouthed Charlie. The place was a bedlam and no one but she had seen the next jack dash down the path. Hers had been a big target - a hundred kilos, she later learned. He must have jigged when he should have jagged or he had assumed to hastily that no one was watching. In any event, he likely contributed substantially to his own demise, she snickered, actually in awe of her good fortune.

Susan was such a better shot than she. She had wanted a joey from the start and stepped to the firing line only when a joey was about to make the run. Kaitlin stayed around to provide moral support. Now that she had taken her jack, she felt entitled to offer a bit of advice from time to time too. It took Susan the better part of two hours and many tries, but Susan got her joey too.

Kaitlin and Susan returned their rooms, changed their garb, and came down for dinner. They decided to eat hommebugers in the coffee shop rather than venture into the more expensive formal dining room. After dinner, each went to look over her jack as was her privilege.

Susan’s joey, as cute as he was, was so afraid that he went and peed all over himself. Susan tried to look unthreatening and just come close and get a good look at him. He lost his bowels in flight. Fleeing the unpleasantness, Susan retreated to the bar with the large TV screen. Perhaps in the future, she would procure her jacques and garcon in the more pleasant atmosphere of Laura’s Market.

Kaitlin’s jack looked even bigger on the platform than he had outside on the course. Terror flashed across his face when she came to his side and squatted beside him. "Easy fellow," she said soothingly. She placed her hand on his heavy thigh. He shuddered then relaxed - still watching her eyes wide with fear. He tugged desperately at his bonds and then surrendered.

She grinned as she read her name in big print on the red tag pinned to his left ear. She looked for the place where her dart had hit him and found the small puncture mark on his left shoulder. She ran her hand over his breast bone between his heavy pecs and over his slightly rounded belly. She teased the coarse hair of his groin and cupped his full genitals. He groaned at her touch. His noise had a hint of pleasure. She looked at his cute face and just couldn’t resist. He was a wonderful jack. She kissed him full on the mouth and his mouth softened at the touch of her lips. If ever a jack was born for spit roasting, this was the jack.

Ashley and Taylor had the first shift. They came in to work at 5:30 AM. They were to process the jacks taken the previous day. It was a job that no one wanted but someone had to do it. At least they got to go home today after lunch.

Ashley began the morning upset. She had stayed up too late to start work this early in the morning. Slowly a memory began to emerge. It was something special about today. Something pleasant.

"Today’s the day!" Taylor said cheerfully, obviously somewhat ahead of Ashley’s emerging recollection. Taylor saw Ashley’s confusion. Her elfin features beamed a wide, open smile. "Charlie, foul-mouthed Charlie! Remember!"

Now Ashley remembered, she had been standing with the visitors in the blind when foul-mouthed Charlie made his run. He stopped right front of them and stood there dancing around while the so-called hunters crowded the firing line and shot away at him. The pushed and jostled one another and even someone with skill would have had difficulty getting off an accurate shot. They likely caused one another more difficulty than Charlie caused them. Darts whizzed everywhere but none touched him, as usual. He danced around as if invulnerable and shouted his ugly, repetitive insults. This was the damned scene that recurred day and day. She was sick to death of it. Then he quickly turned and stuck out his hairy ass at them, spread his cheeks wide and a blew them an obscene fart - loud and long. "Kiss my fart-blowing ass," he taunted. She didn’t know what came over her - she just grabbed an air rifle from a startled customer and shot the damned jack. She didn’t aim, she just shot and hit the motherless bugger in his proffered ass.

The management was in an uproar and fined her on the spot. However, her coworkers and all the customers took up a collection and paid the damned fine in minutes with enough left over for last night’s celebration. That was why she was out so late. Today, she and Taylor would do the honors - goodbye Charlie - as they say. Her resentment faded and she planned the morning with renewed high spirits.

They had seven jacks to put down this morning - actually six jacks and a joey. Working together, Taylor and Ashley quickly had six jacks and a joey shackled and lined up kneeling on the killing room floor. Each was secured to a metal hook set in the floor. Five jacks and joey were hooded. Charlie, having earned the seventh place in line, stared out at the scene in horror. He was not hooded, but he was gagged. Ashley, stopped to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. She adjusted her blond ponytail and replaced her usual baseball cap. Charlie had had lost a tooth when they inserted the gag, but he wasn’t likely to need it.

When Ashley signaled that all of the males were secure, Taylor retrieved the capture-bold pistols. Like a gunfighter in the old West of the United States, Taylor passed down the line of hooded males with a pistol in each hand. She alternated pistols as she passed down the line, to allow each to regain its pressure between shots, and stunned them all in less than a minute - all except Charlie. Charlie pulled away madly against his bonds when she came to him.

She responded calmly to his wild terror. "Sorry, Charlie," she said mildly, "only the best are good enough for Starmyst."

Making choking noises behind his gag, Charlie watched as the others were finally freed from their shackles just before they were hung by their heels and freed from their lives when Ashley, having put on a paper coverall, passed down the line and opened their throats. The six bodies drained into a trough on the floor and Ashley, her coverall streaked with blood, showed Charlie the blood stained knife. The air reeked with the sweet metallic smell of blood

Charlie lost both his urine and his bowels. He tried to bash himself into unconsciousness by battering his head against the floor.

Taylor slid the carcasses into the scalding chamber. She closed and sealed the door and pressed the button, the chamber quickly filled with steam.

"Well, Charlie," Ashley said mildly, "looks like you had an icky accident.

"Yeah, foul-mouthed Charlie," Taylor came over and tousled his sweat-slicked hair with her blood drenched hand. "What do you think of all this?"

Charlie moaned and tried to close his eyes against the horror.

The steam had scalded the carcasses when Ashley rolled them out -as red as lobsters. She and Taylor scoured them with coarse brushes to remove the body hair and then washed them thoroughly toe to head with an antibacterial soap. Taylor, as short as she was, needed to stand on a platform to reach their feet. Once washed, each carcass was hosed down.

"Hey, Charlie, look at me," Ashley called. He could not help but look at her as she passed down the line and castrated the first carcass, the one with a blue ear tag. Meanwhile, Taylor dragged her platform over to the first in line, stepped up onto it, and proceeded to gut him in her practiced, efficient manner. Charlie was paralyzed beyond horror.

"You know," Taylor said as she worked. I think that old Charlie has had enough. It’s time to stop playing and give me a hand!"

"I think, you’re right," Ashley agreed. She grabbed the hose and blasted Charlie with the frigid water, largely freeing him of his filth. He was shivering from cold as well as fear when she went over to him and removed the gag. "Well, Charlie, have you any parting words? Can’t you even fart again, like you did so beautifully today?"

Charlie looked at her and moved his mouth but no sound came out. His brain was racing, but he could not modulate the flood of thoughts to make a coherent sound

Ashley unfastened his bonds from their attachment to the floor and dragged him unresisting to the bloody trough. His wrists were still secured to the metal chain that circled his waist. The ankles were fettered and he could only walk in tiny steps. She dropped him to his knees, keeping her grip on the hair of his head and slipped her knife from its scabbard.

Taylor finished with the first carcass and started on the second. The last thing that Charlie saw was Taylor stretching her tiny hand to grasp to full ball-sack of the large jack, second from the right. He had a red ear tag. She pulled it away from the body and cut them free. Ashley paused for several seconds so that Charlie would see it all, then she cut his throat.

Exhausted, Susan and Kaitlin slept until noon. By the time they came down from their rooms at the motel, their jack and joey had been slaughtered and their carcasses scalded, gutted, and skinned. They hung in the cooler where both temperature and humidity were carefully regulated and would be ready for eating in a couple of days. The jack would be kept whole for spit roasting. The joey would be butchered.

Susan and Kaitlin were still utter novices, even though they had made their first kills. Madeleine brought them the genitals. The scrotal sacs were already severed from the penises. Expelling the testicles was straightforward, although scrapping the inverted sacs clean of adherent flesh was painstaking and time -consuming. She halved the testes for the joey and quartered the much larger testes of the older jack and put them in lemon juice to soak. She washed the penises thoroughly and skinned them quite neatly. She then placed the flayed male organs, one larger and one smaller, in the lemon juice with the testes.

"Are we ready for our wienie roast?" Susan asked.

Madeleine found the sharpened sticks and escorted them over to the fire. She placed 2 half-testicles and 4 quarter-testicles on each skewer and sprinkled them liberally with salt and pepper. She sprayed them generously with olive oil and presented one skewer to each woman.

"Can we roast their wienies too?" Susan asked.

Madeleine made a face. "Do you know how tough and chewy those old wienies are?"

"Do we just throw them away, then?" Kaitlin asked.

"Or should I take them home for my dog?" asked Susan.

"No," Madeleine smiled. "We use every part of the Pig except for the 'oink.’ It’s a matter of honor. In my family, my mom skinned the wienies, then she parboiled them for about 5 minutes and sliced them cross-ways. Finally, she sautéed 'em with onions and garlic, added a chopped ripe tomato, a dash of balsamic vinegar, a bit salt and pepper, and pinch of sugar and cinnamon. Now that’s eating!"

The testicles cooked quickly and browned beautifully over the aromatic mesquite fire. The fire hissed from dripping fat as the meat’s savory juices bubbled to the surface. Soon the delicious morsels were ready. Madeleine stripped them from the skewers and drenched them in the juice from a freshly squeezed lemon. She ground fresh pepper liberally over them and they were ready to eat. She did this often and her enthusiasm never flagged. She just hoped that Susan and Kaitlin knew that custom required that they share their delicacies with her.

Susan and Kaitlin did not forget Madeleine. Calories and fat grams forgotten, they enjoyed the rich organ meat and thought about their party on Saturday. They had so much to do.

Susan and Kaitlin had done everything that they had planned. At some point, the event had taken on a momentum of its own. Then news of an escape from the Bar X caused some consternation. Many women kept their children in doors. Some wouldn’t themselves leave their homes. Television and radio had a field day. First, Susan heard that both of the jacks who had escaped had had been captured by mid-afternoon. All seemed back under control. Then Kaitlin heard that a third jack had been re-captured too. No one, it seemed, was quite certain exactly how many jacks had escaped. Perhaps others were still at large.

Ashley didn’t mind working Sunday night. Her friends, Madeleine and Jenna were working too. However, she was scheduled to come in for an early shift on Monday, 20 jacks were to be selected and shipped off for processing. She too was shocked by news of the escape. During the night, a number of males had ripped the hinges from the gate on their pen and dashed for freedom. At first, the Bar X announced that only two males had escaped. Only later, when a group of hikers were assaulted, they allowed that perhaps three males had escaped and maybe more.

Lisa Bentley prepared for the party. Every alumna had made a major contribution so that everyone might attend, alumnae, students, and the daughters of alumnae. She had paid her share. Jacques was terribly expensive even if you settled for 'choice’ instead of "prime."

Michelle’s mother had purchased three tickets and then discovered that she couldn’t attend. Michelle invited Alicia and Heather. Alicia had recovered remarkably from her ordeal at the lake but deeply regretted that she had never had her day in court.

Megan and Sarah’s sorority was sponsoring the affair at the country club. As conventionally impoverished undergraduate students, they actually received free tickets. Many alumna hoped that meeting the current class of sisters would cure the senioritis and inspire their under-achieving daughters to somewhat greater ambitions. Neither had had an opportunity to eat jacques before. The occasion marked their long-awaited assumption of adult privilege.

The first plate featured three small bundles, neatly tied with strips of green bean and arranged in an equilateral triangle surrounding a small mound of risotto. Wrapped inside a pouch comprised of a thin slice of roast loin of garcon was a comfit of apples, raisins, and Madeira wine. The subtly spiced fruit complemented the delicate flavor of the lean, tender garcon.

The younger joeys evoke much more sympathy from the sentimental than the older jacks. When a joey is roasted whole, most prefer that the head be removed in the kitchen. However, most who have actually tasted the costly, exquisite flesh enjoy it thoroughly and quickly control any previous maudlin reservations.

The second plate was jacques, carved right from the roast on the spit. Jenna wore her spotless chef’s uniform and tall white chef’s cap and carved the roast. Some found jacques more flavorful, if less rare than garcon. Prime cuts of jacques are often grilled or broiled and served to perfection, but the meat is less reliably tender than garcon, coming from older males. Other cuts are commonly braised or stewed. Large joints are often boiled first and then cut in fist-sized pieces and finished over an aromatic wood fire.

An entire jack turning on a spit is visually impressive and festive. Only the rare party boasted the 100+ attendance required to consume the average jack and reheated on the second day, the meat is far inferior to the first day. Spit roasting subjects all cuts to the same cooking technique. On the face of it, jack’s configuration militates against even cooking, but this can be mitigated through careful trussing. The ligament above and below the knee cap is severed and the knees are bent backwards so that the top of the foot rests on the top of the thigh. Then legs are rotated up at the hip, so that the inverted knees may be tied under the armpits and the feet flop down onto the buttocks. The arms are brought around the sides and the spit passes through the backs of both hands, the bottoms of both feet, and through the bung through which the bowels had been removed. A near cylindrical shape may be achieved. The carcass is secured to the spit with two giant forks that themselves are secured to the spit. One is slid up the spit. Its tines pierce the jack’s buttocks and anchor in his pelvis. The second is slid down the spit. Its tines and pass between the wing bones and collarbones.

Tenderness is sometimes an issue that may be optimized in one of two ways. A jack may boiled whole, if facilities are adequate, before being finished on the spit. More often, thin slices of meat are shaved from a carcass as it turns over the fire -souvlaki style - rather than the more conventional approach where a chef carves a thoroughly cooked carcass into thicker slices.

Alicia, Michelle and Heather were not yet tired when the party in the Pavilion broke up. Past differences forgotten, Sarah allowed that she and Megan had a case of beer in their 4 x 4 and soon recruited the three younger women to continue the party elsewhere.

Drinking and talking, Megan boasted that she could sneak them into the barns of the Bar X Ranch. Sarah dared her to try, citing the recent escapes and certain that the publicity would make them tighten up their security. Megan scoffed at her fears and called her timid. The challenge made even timorous Michelle excited. Alicia was eager for the thrill

Alicia, always active, quickly found a break in the poorly maintained fence around the parking lot. A guard patrolled the barns, set a hundred yards back from the lot. Her position was readily revealed by the light of her flashlight Megan waited until the light faded gradually into distance, then urged her friends to silence and herded them through the breach in utter darkness. They ran silently and then Megan pointed out a building fifty yards further in the distance. She led the way quickly so that it would hide them from the guard. The women ran madly in the light of the waning moon, suppressing their overpowering urge to laugh aloud at their own wild audacity.

"This is a barn, I'll bet.' Heather whispered hoarsely, sniffing the air.

Sarah jumped up and peered into the interior vaguely lit by red emergency lights. The far wall was lined with narrow barred stalls.

"The door's unlocked!" Alicia whispered. "Should we go in?"

I don't think we should go in." Michelle offered meekly.

"Sarah, Michelle doesn't think that we should go in. In my mind, an unlocked door's practically an engraved invitation." Megan grinned.

Sarah smiled. "Then by all means - let's go in - but quietly."

Megan opened the door slowly. Sarah, Alicia, and Heather rushed in. Michelle hesitated for a moment, the followed, being more afraid to be alone outside than with her friends on the inside. A central open space was surrounded by narrow stalls, used to quarantine new arrivals prior to their integration into the jack gangs.

Megan picked out one stall at random and peered through the narrow window. "Here's a likely boyfriend for Michelle," She whispered hoarsely. Alicia unlatched the door and Heather pulled open the peeling painted wooden door.

A naked jack cowered at the back of the stall. He was collared and a chain secured him to a hook set solidly into the wall. Megan walked right in, unsnapped the chain and dragged him out without much resistance. "Hey," she said, "here's your boyfriend, Michelle."

Michelle blushed and turned aside.

The jack stood slouching and trembling. His eyes revealed his abject terror. An alien observer, oblivious to the history of our world would not have seen him as dangerous or threatening. However, this night that history was palpably present and this creature stood heir to his legacy of suffering.

"Hey, Jack! Which of us are you going to rape tonight?" Alicia taunted. "Do you want to rape me." Alicia lifted her top and flashed him to the glee of her friends.

"I think that he likes us!" Heather pointed to his growing erection with derision. He tried weakly to escape Megan's sturdy grip when Heather stepped in front of him. She looked up into his wavering eyes and he pulled his head back and turned his head unable to withstand her gaze. Heather laughed and kneed him in the groin.

He doubled at the waist so violently that he tore free from Megan's strong grip and fell to his knees. In agony, he vomited up the bile-stained gruel that he had been fed hours before.

Megan quickly stepped on to his leash, keeping his head on the ground in the pool of his vomit. Desperately, he turned his head aside so that he could breath. He used one arm to try to push off the ground and the other to shield his bruised genitals. He tried to get his legs under him and rise, but succeeded only in raising his butt from the ground.

Alicia stepped behind him. "Nice ass!" she quipped and reach between his legs, prying his hand from his bruised tender parts. Half kindly, she kneaded his man-parts. "Let's rape him," she suggested and held out an arm. "Some damned jack tried to rape me!" Alicia put one finger in her mouth. Her other hand secured his scrotum so that he could not pull away. She got Heather to help her secure his arms, then she kicked his legs apart. She inserted first one finger in his rectum, then her entire fist. Despite Megan and Heather, he bucked and writhed. However, he could not dislodge Alicia's invading arm. In the end his arms were pulled out from under him and his face and chest flopped on the ground now worked to foul-smelling mud with his vomit.

After a few moments’ struggle, he simply surrendered to her obscene invasion. Alicia grew bored with her exploration. "Who's next?" she offered. She yanked her arm free and the pitiful jack collapsed onto his belly and lay prone in the muck..

Heather took a turn. The feces and blood served as a lubricant and eased her way. "Let's let Michelle have a turn," she offered in turn.

Suddenly, lights pierced the darkness. A guard sauntered into their midst. Although she was only one person facing five, no one thought to question her authority. "OK, cock-suckers, you guys are busted! Names and addresses?"

Time seemed to freeze. No one spoke. Even breathing stopped as the guard searched each woman's face inquiring wordlessly who would first provide her name.

"I can't get in trouble." Michelle moaned. "What will my Granny say and if Mother finds out, I'll be grounded forever."

"Hey, we're sorry." Heather pleaded. "Really sorry. We didn't mean any harm, really."

"What am I going to do with you! We're in trouble enough here at the ranch. There'll be inspectors in the morning and one of those bleeding-heart reformers might even talk to this motherless jack here." She pointed to pitiful creature lying in a heap in dirt. She thought for a full minute. The jack moaned quietly but no one spoke. "Take that piece of shit back to his stall." She motioned with her arm. "After what you did to him he won't be able to sit for a week!"

Her attempt at humor helped everyone relax. Megan and Alicia dragged the jack back to the barn themselves, relieved to escape the guard's angry visage if only temporarily. The jack seemed glad for the security of his stall.

"OK, names, give me your names - last name first - first name last," the guard demanded when the two had returned. "And show me some ID." A note pad and pen appeared in her hand as if by conjuration.

Michelle felt tears welling up. "I really didn't do anything, officer. Really, I didn't mean to do anything."

Sarah, home from college for the summer, had the flash of an idea. "Excuse me officer, but do you really want to explain to your superiors just how the five of us got in here so easily. And to those investigators? What will they say?"

The guard's face softened into a pensive expression and she smiled. She had been young once. In fact, she wasn't all that old right now. She tapped her pen against her pad and thought for a long moment. "I'll tell you what I'll do. We're shipping out a score or so of jacks at dawn. I can add this bucko's number to the manifest and he'll be long gone when the inspectors come. I doubt that they'll come all that early. Those PET’M people aren’t the first ones up in the morning." She put down her pad and pen. She went over to a manifest on a clipboard and made a brief notation. "This way no one gets in any trouble. Now you guys beat it and don't try this again - at least not on my shift."

Marie Serge had always wanted a job in the food service industry. She had always liked to eat and enjoyed preparing food herself. Her weight showed it, she thought with some chagrin, although her concern was not sufficient to control her appetite. Although her task was not particularly creative like the chef in a great restaurant, she employed her own special expertise in a position of substantial importance.

Twenty-one jacks had arrived by truck in the early morning. Now twenty-one carcasses hung in the cooler, bled, gutted, and flayed. Once they had cooled and the rigor mortis had passed, they would be quartered and butchered. It was best to leave the meat stretch on the bone.

Only twenty had been expected, twenty prime carcasses. It was good that twenty-one had been sent because one carcass was too thin and scrawny to qualify as prime. Marie Serge bore the responsibility to grade the carcasses and she was quite particular.