Penny gets Processed
Thank you for reading this, the first of three planned stories in this harsh predator-supremacist world. Penny has experienced the life of a young prey animal from one perspective - some would say a privileged perspective, at least relatively speaking. Others may have a different point of view.
Penny the piglet was excited and worried in equal measure. Earlier that day, she had received the government letter ordering her to report to her nearest doctor's office at 11:00 sharp. It was Processing Day, the first such day since she had turned 14 and so the day she would be judged to determine her role in society for the rest of her life. Today she was to learn how she would serve her superiors and the masters of society: The Preds.
The waiting room at Dr Botha's practice was clean and well-appointed. The seats looked comfortable, though given that there were Preds present - a family of jackals and a one-eyed stoat - Penny elected to stand like any well-mannered Prey animal should. The secretary was an attractive ewe who looked to be in her mid to late 20s - well into middle age, by Prey standards.
The stoat was reading a newspaper - apparently, some of those prey-separatist terrorists had been caught in the act. In what act, Penny wasn't certain. The news was cheerfully loud whenever HLA agents were arrested, but tended to be rather more quiet on the subject of what they had been arrested for. Didn't want to give the others any ideas, Penny supposed. It seemed logical enough.
After her betters had been called in to see the doctor, Penny was able to sit down. The seating was as comfortable as it had appeared, and she savoured it. She was doing her best to savour everything in life, as she knew that today might be the day she was marked to be culled.
Ordinarily, of course, Tuesday would have been a schoolday. That being said, the relationship of prey to education was never a very close one. She could have left the school system before turning 12 if her father had wanted it, or if a Pred had bought her by that point. Penny was bright enough, though, and so her father (when he was around) was content to let her stay in school as long as she could. One never knew what a prey animal might be able to make of itself, after all - within reason.
Soon - all too soon - the stoat left the office, looking rather more relaxed than she had previously. Perhaps 15 minutes later the ewe leaned forward over the counter and said, "The doctor will see you now, Penny''.
The doctor was, naturally, a Pred - a lioness, to be precise. While it might theoretically be possible for a prey animal to qualify as a doctor, it would never happen in practice. Nor were there prey lawyers, for example. For obvious reasons, prey were never put in a position where they would be difficult to replace.
As for Dr Botha herself, she was a svelte woman of indeterminate years. Her golden coat was beautiful, and the wire-frame glasses balanced on her muzzle suited her perfectly.
When Dr Botha stepped forward to greet her it was with the effortless, dangerous grace of the true predator. Dr Botha was not unaware of the power of life and death that she held over Penny. She knew exactly what she could do to the girl, if she so chose. She simply didn't care. She was so accustomed to dangling the sword of Damocles above the heads of others that she did it casually. Penny was like an ant beneath a shoe.
"Hello there, Penny'' said the woman who held her fate in the palm of her hand , ``I'm Doctor Botha, and I'll be assessing you today."
Penny curtseyed and the lioness smiled. "My, such a proper little girl. Half the kids I've had in here today have been so sullen you'd have thought I was going to eat them right then and there." She made a rising gesture with her free hand, and Penny lifted off her dress. She was nude beneath it. At another gesture, she turned around on the spot. Her barcode tattoos were clearly visible on her left tit and right buttcheek, still fresh from their application on her 14th birthday. "Although, for a juicy little rump like that, I might just make an exception."
Penny nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Dr Botha. Everyone says it's my best feature."
"Yes, it certainly is. Now, tell me about your parents - assuming you know who they are, of course." When dealing with prey, that was far from a sure thing.
"Oh, I do. Mama got culled a few years ago. Papa's a prostitute."
"Who's he work for?"
"Mr Dunard."
Dr Botha tapped her pen against her muzzle in thought. "Mr Dunard caters primarily to men, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Papa's a buttslut. I think he's where I get my ass from."
"Not your mother?"
"I don't think so. I don't really remember what she looked like, but I don't recall her having a good ass."
"Hmm." Dr Botha wrote something on her clipboard. "I pulled up your file before you came in just now. It seems unlikely that your young would have a fat rump, which of course reduces your potential value as a breeder."
Penny nodded, trying not to be too disappointed. Only the best prey animals got sent to the breeding farms, after all. She would probably never know the honour of being strapped into the traditional breeding rack and fucked by a similarly honoured boar. It was unlikely that her womb would ever fulfil its greatest potential, which was to be used in a constant cycle of breeding until it wore out - which would then mark her for immediate culling. The life of a breeder was a simple one, and one that every good herbivore had been taught to aspire to.
Dr Botha looked through her charts. "On the bright side, nothing that marks you as ASAP. I've got a blind boy coming in next week - a little stag - and frankly with the economy in the state it's in, he'll be lucky to see next month. Heh, see next month."
Penny understood. A disabled herbivore was a drain on society and a waste of resources that could be put to more important uses - like a disabled carnivore. It would be selfish in the extreme for a blind deer to expect to be allowed to live if by its death someone whose life had any intrinsic value could be made more comfortable.
The processing wasn't so bad, as those sorts of things went. She was put through all the standard checks, from standing on one leg to stretching out her arms to a quick taste-test of her blood. Dr Botha was quietly professional throughout, for which Penny was thankful.
At the end Dr Botha took one last look at her clipboard and sighed. "Well, you're definitely not fit for breeding, so what would you like to do?"
"I'd like to be a secretary", replied Penny. "I got good grades in office work at school."
"Uh huh. And how about house work and eating pussy?"
"I'm pretty good at house work - better at cleaning than cooking - and I'm good at sex work, too. I'd prefer not to do it for a living. I guess if it's that or a labour camp."
Dr Botha clipped her round the ear. "I don't give a shit about your sex work marks in general," she snarled, "I asked how you are at eating pussy. You see, that ewe out there isn't just my secretary, she's my house girl. She cooks, cleans, does the other chores and eats me out when I can't get a real date. She's been getting sloppy lately, so if you can do a better job getting me off, I might have a job offer for you. If you do well enough, I'll keep you off the cull list."
Penny considered it. On the one hand, if she was going to be a house girl she would have preferred it to be for a man. On the other hand, being a combo house slave and secretary was closer to her desired job than a lot of prey animals got, and Dr Botha was probably the best looking mistress she was likely to get.
The only other place nearby that was willing to hire a 14-year-old prey animal for clerical work had been having a mass cull when she'd passed it by earlier that day. She knew it was just superstition, but the sight of 30 naked men and women being lead into the meat vans had still struck her as a bad omen.
She nodded and said "I'd like to try, Dr Botha." Even if she failed, she still had at least a week or two to find work before being sent to a camp, and she knew the brothel on Marlowe street would have her - at least until she got too old for their clientele on her 18th birthday.
In lieu of a reply, Dr Botha snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor in front of her. As Penny sank to her knees, in the position that prey animals had been taking for their betters since time immemorial, Dr Botha shimmied her skirt down her legs. Penny leant forward and took the doctor's panties gently in her teeth. At the lioness' nod, she pulled them down slowly and then gazed up at the beautiful leonine pussy before her.
She moved her head up until her piggy snout was just bare centimetres away from the golden honeypot and inhaled the scent of arousal. She liked it, which was fortunate. If she was successful, she was going to be smelling - and tasting - a lot of this over the next few years. Man willing she might even last until 35, the mandatory culling age. She inched forward ever so gently, and took her first long, slow lick up the doctor's warm, inviting slit. The lioness purred approvingly, and Penny got to work in earnest.
Back at school, herbivores had mostly practised these skills on each other. She had dirtied her mouth with other sows, cows, mares and similarly worthless creatures, only occasionally being granted the privilege of going down on her mastiff bitch teacher. Similarly, sucking on a big cat had been a rare treat compared to the pitiful, inferior mice and rabbits she had usually been forced to blow. The motions were more or less the same of course, but they had all had it drummed into them that a herbivore who was allowed to pleasure a carnivore was being granted a singular honour, and she felt utterly joyous as that honour flowed through her.
She lapped at the lioness with increasing earnestness, and was rewarded with a lusty growl from the predator towering above her. She felt a mighty hand clamp down on her head and pull her closer in, even as claws poked out of the doctor's fingertips and drew blood from her bare pink scalp. She was growing wet herself, and if Dr Botha had permitted it she would have been jilling herself franticly. She focused her passion into her work, and licked and nibbled at the gorgeous pussy with ever-growing ardour.
She could hear the beautiful lioness growing short of breath above her, and feel the grip clamping down on her head until it was truly painful, rather than just a little love-scratch. She found reserves within herself she had never tapped into and licked at the divine pussy like never before. A perfectly timed brush against Dr Botha's clit finished her off, and she was flooded with her reward. She tasted the proof of her efforts, and felt it splatter around her muzzle to mark her worth.
Dr Botha leaned back against her desk, breathing heavily. With a shaking hand, she reached over to the intercom and buzzed in her secretary. The poor woman's face fell as she entered the room and saw Penny still kneeling, still covered. "Yeah, that's right", sneered Dr Botha, "get out."
"W-where will I go?" gasped the sheep.
"Who cares?" asked the lioness. Penny smirked up at her forerunner and wondered what her room at her new mistress' house would be like. Life was good.