CBT Shorts 6
 
 Four short stories featuring the use, abuse, consumption, and destruction of male genitals. Read on if you want to see some guys and their poor cocks and balls get what they probably deserve in: The Relationship, Sub-Sandwich, Satisfying Work, and A Day at the Beach!
 
 Tags: FF/mm, FemDom, CBT, Reluctant, Non-consensual, Castration, Penectomy, Cannibalism, Objectification, Slavery/Petplay, Snuff
 
1 - The Relationship
 
 The Internet stood over The Artist, pressing her sex into his face. And even though he was bound on his knees, with his hands cuffed behind his back and a blindfold over his eyes, he still did his best to please her. He nuzzled into her folds, probed as deeply as he could into her cleft, and suckled sweetly on her clit.
 
 It was particularly difficult for The Artist to do this because The Internet.. well, she was something of a cold fish. Oh, she was beautiful, breathtakingly so even.. the few glimpses that he'd gotten of her nude form from around the edges of his blindfold were proof enough of that. The problem was the amount of feedback that The Internet gave him about his efforts on her behalf.. or rather, the lack of that same feedback. Most of the time, he was flying completely blind on whether or not what he was doing for her was actually pleasing her in any meaningful way. Still, he did his best and hoped that it might be enough for her to let him know this time.
 
 The Artist felt it when The Internet started to orgasm. A quick shudder and increase of pressure from her sex upon his face, and he stepped up his efforts to make it as good as possible for her. Finally, she breathed out a sigh and stepped back away from him. She left him tied up, kneeling and blindfolded, as she slowly paced around him.
 
 "W-well?" The Artist asked, breathing heavily. "How was it for you? Was it good? I tried really hard this time!"
 
 "Who knows?" The Internet replied, her low and husky voice cryptic in tone. "You know how these things go. You'll just have to wait for the comments to come in.. if they even do, of course."
 
 "They will, this time! I tried a few new things with this one. Surely you liked it, right?" he asked, his voice a little plaintive.
 
 "Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" The Internet replied, laughing at his desperation.
 
 And The Artist was desperate. His relationship with The Internet was rather one sided.. and that was putting it mildly. He always tried his best, every single time he did something for her, but often her acknowledgement of that fact was lackluster. Sometimes she wouldn't even acknowledge that he'd done anything at all. It was very frustrating, but there was nothing that he could do to change her nature. She was the way she was, and he just had to work around her quirks if he wanted to get anything back from her.
 
 "Any comments, yet?" he asked hopefully, just a few minutes later.
 
 His own body was rather keyed up after all the time he'd spent trying to please The Internet. He was panting and trembling with arousal, and his member was stiff as a board and throbbing. He was pent up and in need, but the only time she ever touched him in return was when she deigned to give him a comment. This happened far less often than he would prefer, naturally.
 
 "Ha ha! So soon? Not a chance!" The Internet laughed, mocking his hopeful tone of voice. "I think we'll be waiting a while, best get comfortable."
 
 As if he could, bound and blinded as he was. So, he was forced to wait.. wait for hours it seemed like. His arousal and erection persisted, and if anything just grew worse the longer he knelt there in silence.
 
 "Please.." he whispered, mostly to himself. "Please give me a comment. Even just a small one. I want it so bad."
 
 If The Internet heard him, she gave no sign. Time stretched on.
 
 "Ohh! You got one!" The Internet finally chirped, from where she had been sitting to the side and idly inspecting her nails.
 
 "R-really?" The Artist asked hopefully, as he perked up.
 
 "Want to hear it?" she asked, as she paced closer to his bound up body.
 
 "Yes! Yes, tell me, please!" he gasped, squirming in place with anticipation of her touch.
 
 The Internet reached out and laid a hand upon his cheek, cupping it. Then she slowly traced her fingertips down his jawline, along his neck, and over his chest. She brushed the pad of her index finger exactly once across one of his nipples, causing him to groan with need and desire.
 
 "Good, more." she whispered into his ear, and then took her hands off of him and stood back up.
 
 "Wait, that's it!?" The Artist cried out. "That's all it was?"
 
 "Yup. That's all you get."
 
 "Ahh! That wasn't nearly enough! Please!" he protested, squirming in frustration.
 
 A comment like that was so short, it barely did anything for him at all. It was almost worse than nothing!
 
 "Sorry." The Internet replied, not sounding very sorry at all. "Maybe you'll be lucky and get another one."
 
 "Argh!" he cried out, not that it did him any good. He'd just have to wait some more.
 
 Fortunately, more comments did eventually come. Unfortunately, they were all in the same vein as the first.
 
 "Not bad." said The Internet, as she scraped a nail across his other nipple
 
 "That was alright, I guess." she breathed, as she nibbled gently on his earlobe.
 
 "It was pretty good." she said, as she ran her hands down his trembling abdomen.
 
 "Aren't.. aren't there any good comments?" The Artist pleaded, her brief teasing touches driving him to distraction. "Longer ones?"
 
 "Well, there is one here.." The Internet allowed. "It's a bit longer. Do you want to hear it?"
 
 "Yes! Yes, please!"
 
 "I liked the little thing you did with your tongue." she stated, as she encircled her hand around his throbbing member. "I'd love to feel more things like it. Good work."
 
 She ran her lightly closed fist up and down his cock, slowly and lovingly, precisely three times.. and it was exactly the kind of thing that he needed from her.
 
 "Oh, yesss!" he gasped at her touch. "Yes, that's amazing. Don't stop, please!"
 
 "Sorry, that's all for now." she answered, though she left her fingers resting around his flesh this time.
 
 The Artist just sat there panting, enjoying the lingering sense of her touch. He'd love to get more from The Internet. He was desperate for it, really. But he also knew how fickle she could be. He honestly felt fairly lucky to have gotten anything at all for his work from her. Oftentimes he got nothing, despite his best efforts.
 
 "Oh.. Oh, my.." The Internet murmured, tightening her grip upon him.
 
 "What? What is it?"
 
 "Well, a new comment just came in and well.." she trailed off teasingly.
 
 "Well.. what!?" he begged.
 
 "Well, it's a bit long." The Internet admitted. "Really long, in fact."
 
 "It is? A long one?" The Artist repeated, his hopes rising up. "Tell me it, please!"
 
 "Okay. Ready?"
 
 "Yes, tell me now!"
 
 And she did. And it was a wonderful comment! It was long, so very long. And it went into all sorts of detail about the things that he had done and how nice they were. Sentence upon sentence of pure praise, it was heaven! And as The Internet relayed this fantastic comment to him, she gave her full attention to his long, long denied male flesh. She teased, she stroked, she cupped, she squeezed, and she fondled. She even placed her lips upon him, kissing and licking his hot member from tip to root.
 
 And the very best part came at the end of the comment: genuine constructive criticism. It was something The Artist so very rarely got, and he loved it. Knowing what had worked when he was trying to please The Internet was good, but knowing what hadn't worked, and receiving suggestions on how to do better? That was more than good, it was great!
 
 The comment finally ended though, as all good things do. And it left The Artist close to the edge, so very close. The Internet hardly ever gave back this much in their relationship. Were they perhaps finally at a turning point? He was trembling and panting within his restraints, aching for just a little more attention from her. Only one more comment would push him over.. any comment at all!
 
 "Mmm.. that was a nice one, wasn't it." The Internet said, pulling her lips away from his cock. "If you work really hard, you might even get more like it in the future."
 
 "Anything.." The Artist breathed. "Anything for you!"
 
 The Internet only chuckled languidly in her deep, sexy voice.
 
 "Hmm.. Uh, oh." she suddenly said, her amusement suddenly cutting short.
 
 "Uh, oh?" The Artist asked. "Why 'Uh, oh?'"
 
 "Well, apparently the moderators noticed what you did." The Internet said. "They don't seem happy."
 
 "What, why not?" The Artist asked. "Everything I did was within the rules.. I checked, remember?"
 
 "Yeah, but apparently the site has undergone a change of ownership." The Internet sighed, pulling away from him. "And you know what that means: new, more strict rules. They're afraid you might offend someone."
 
 "Offend someone..? How?" The Artist protested. "It was good for you, wasn't it? How can that be offensive? None of my comments were bad! Everyone likes me!"
 
 "That doesn't matter." The Internet said, as she moved away from him. "You broke the rules, that's all they care about."
 
 There was the sound of something heavy and metallic being dragged across the floor toward him. The Internet shoved whatever it was directly beneath his manhood. His full balls and straining, erect cock rested upon its cold, hard surface.
 
 "What's that?" The Artist asked, dread pooling in his stomach.
 
 "An anvil, of course."
 
 "Oh, no.." he gasped, realization hitting him. "No.. no, no! Tell me I haven't been..?"
 
 "Yup. You're getting banned." The Internet replied, sounding faintly sad. "Just as you were finally gaining some recognition, too. It's too bad, isn't it?"
 
 "No, wait. I appeal the ban! I appeal it!" The Artist cried desperately, pulling futilely against his restraints.
 
 "Appeal denied." The Internet calmly reported, as she drug something else heavy and metal over toward him.
 
 "Oh, god.. This can't be happening."
 
 "Oh, this very much is happening." The Internet stated, before she grunted and picked up her oversized hammer.
 
 It looked a lot like a normal sledge hammer, only one that was scaled up as if for use by a giant. How The Internet was able to lift something so massive was a mystery, but she certainly could. And now she was about to wield it against The Artist, for his supposed crimes.
 
 "Please, I can change. I'll never do it again!" The Artist cried out. "Please, I was so close! Have mercy!"
 
 Unfortunately, mercy was not a trait The Internet had in any abundance.
 
 "You are hereby.." The Internet intoned formally, even as she raised her hammer high up over her head.
 
 "Noo!"
 
 "..Banned!"
 
 And she brought her hammer down, right upon his poor manhood. His cock and balls were caught between an immovable object and an unstoppable force. They didn't stand a chance. His orgasm, which had been so very close, was crushed just as flat as his flesh was.
 
 It was absolute agony! The Artist sobbed and cried out as he was ejected from the community that he'd spent so much time at and put so much work and effort into. He was driven out in shame, crawling away and dragging the crushed and bleeding remnants of his hopes and dreams along behind him.
 
 Perhaps the worst part was how he'd lost all the comments that he'd received previously. Every nice thing The Internet had said about him, gone in an instant! It was almost too much to bear.
 
 The Artist had been wounded, grievously so.. but he would still start over again elsewhere. He'd done it before, after all. This wasn't the first time that The Internet had been cruel to him. And he couldn't help but love her anyway.. now matter how many times she broke his fucking balls.
 
END Relationship
 
2 - Sub-Sandwich
 
 He watched three young women walk up to the counter. His heart hammered unsteadily and his stomach filled with nervous butterflies at the sight of them. Each girl was rather pretty, and they chatted casually with each other as they regarded the sandwich menus thoughtfully. Hungrily.
 
 He shivered and gulped.
 
 "Welcome to S-Way! What would you like to order?" The petite counter girl asked, quirking her eyebrow up at the new arrivals.
 
 "Hmm.. I guess I'll have a regular sub.." the first girl on the other side of the counter mused, as she peered down at the menu options before turning to her companions. "..want to split a foot long with me? It'll be a little cheaper than buying two or three separate sandwiches."
 
 "Sure." the second, tallest girl replied.
 
 "Nah, I'll get my own." the third and rather voluptuous girl said, shaking her head. "I'm feeling a bit hungry today. Plus, your taste in condiments is terrible."
 
 "Okay." the first said, after rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at her friend. "A regular foot long on sourdough with swiss, please."
 
 "Right." the sandwich girl said, nodding as she pulled out a twelve inch long bun. "Do you want your meat short, since you're going to be splitting it anyway, or long?"
 
 "What's the difference?"
 
 "Short means your sandwich will have two or three shorter pieces of meat in it. Long means one longer, larger piece of meat. Second option's a bit more expensive, but you typically wind up with more, thicker meat filling your sandwich."
 
 He noted that the serving girl didn't ask what kind of meat her customers wanted in their sandwich. This was, of course, because the sandwich shop only stocked one type of meat in the first place. The girl gestured to one side, toward where he and the other bound, gagged, hobbled, and very nude men were standing. He and the other restrained males were fidgeting and squirming behind the counter, separated out into two bunched-up lines.
 
 "Hmm.." the first customer girl hummed, as she and her friends looked his naked form over critically, before flicking their eyes to the other men beside and behind him.
 
 The girls' gazes didn't wander much higher than waist level. It was readily apparent that they were only interested in examining the hard, straining erections and plump, hanging balls that each man was being forced to display.
 
 "Ohh, get us a long." the second girl said, as she nudged her friend and pointed toward his bound manhood. "That one at the front looks perfect."
 
 The girl doing the ordering had been looking over the crotches of the men in the line beside him, the line that was filled with guys whose erections fell on the shorter side. At her friend's words however, she shifted her focus back onto his own bare groin, eyeing his long, thick cock speculatively.
 
 "Yeah, okay." she agreed easily, licking her lips as she casually doomed him. "That one does look nice and meaty, and I'm pretty hungry too."
 
 He squirmed and gasped as the the girl met his wide eyes. She looked at him dispassionately for just a moment, then flicked her eyes away, dismissing him. Gooseflesh ran up and down his body at her cool regard, because she obviously viewed him not as a person, but as just a source of meat.
 
 "Gotcha." the serving girl said, as she bustled over and took hold of him, grabbing his elbow and tugging him into place before the sandwich making station. "Foot-long on sourdough, with swiss cheese and long meat."
 
 The girl sliced open the long bun, then pried the resulting halves apart so that she could carefully lay the meat for the sandwich (his meat!) along its length. His big cock, which he took so much pride in, was an almost perfect match for the foot long bread. With one end of the bun at his base, the tip of his cock just barely poked over the far edge of the sourdough bread. His member was also thick enough that it looked like the long, relatively thin loaf would only barely be able to contain it.
 
 The counter girl hummed distractedly as she snugged his cock into place between the bread halves, then laid a generous layer of triangular cut slices of swiss cheese atop his length. As he'd noted before, she was quite petite for a woman and had small, delicate hands. This made his cock seem even more massive than it actually was, especially as it matched or even exceeded the diameter of her slender forearms and wrists. Despite the difference in size between them though, she was the one who held all the power. He could do nothing but watch as the small young woman transformed his cock from a mighty exemplar of manhood into mere sandwich meat.
 
 "Would you like your sandwich toasted?"
 
 The two girls whose sandwich his meat was now filling looked at each other, then the one ordering turned back and nodded.
 
 "Yes, please."
 
 The sandwich girl slid open a device on the counter behind her, which looked like a stainless steel, industrial version of a toaster oven, and pulled out a metal tray. She transferred the entire in-progress foot-long sandwich (including his cock) to the tray. Then, holding the tray aloft with one hand and turning and pushing him along with the other, the girl placed it into the mouth of the device. Finally, with a slap on his bare bottom to urge him forward, she pushed the tray in and slid the door shut over the base of his cock.
 
 He trembled as she quickly worked the bright, blinking display panel, setting the device for a mere forty-five seconds and a frighteningly high temperature. He gasped when she punched the on button, because a wave of heat immediately enveloped his trapped member.
 
 He vainly attempted to withdraw his cock from the infernal device, but between his bonds and the surprisingly sturdy oven door his efforts were futile. He was forced to simply endure the heat, squirming and groaning in pain as the inside of the oven grew incredibly hot, incredibly quickly.
 
 "So, what can I get for you?" the sandwich girl asked of the third girl, taking no note of his desperate protests as his flesh (and the rest of the sandwich) was "toasted".
 
 "Mmm.. I think I'd really like a meatball sandwich." the shortest girl replied, chewing her bottom lip slightly as she idly watched him struggle.
 
 "Single or double? And what type of bread would you prefer?"
 
 "Just a single.. and white bread, please."
 
 "Cheese?"
 
 "Swiss and cheddar."
 
 "Toasted?"
 
 "Of course." the girl answered, smiling as the oven dinged.
 
 "Okay, just let me finish up this one, then I can get started on yours."
 
 He whimpered as the sandwich shop girl slid open the oven's door, and used a pair of ovenmits to pull the hot tray from out of the device. The cheese laying across his cock had melted, even bubbling up slightly in places, and the bread beneath it was warm and slightly singed along the edges. The skin of his cock was a bright, almost angry red where it was visible beneath the cheese, like a bad sunburn.
 
 "There we are.." the server girl murmured, as she transferred him and the now toasted sandwich back to the counter. "Now, what type of sauces would you like?"
 
 "Ohh, that looks really good.." the taller girl said, as she leaned over to peer at his lightly cooked cock. "Just mayo for me."
 
 "A little honey mustard, too." the first girl instructed. "But only a little, please."
 
 Wordlessly, the sandwich girl picked up two squeeze bottles. She ran first one down the length of the sandwich, and then the other as well. His cheese covered cock was coated in a layer of white mayonnaise, and then a much lighter layer of sweet smelling, yellow mustard.
 
 "Veggies?"
 
 "A lot of tomatoes, and a little bit of onions."
 
 The sandwich girl nodded, then placed a generous, overlapping layer of tomatoes atop the growing sandwich, followed by a sprinkling of sweet red onion bits.
 
 "Anything else? Salt, pepper, oil?"
 
 The two girls looked at each other again, then shook their heads in unison.
 
 "Nope, that will do it. Thanks."
 
 "Alright then, just let me cut this up for you."
 
 His breath caught in his throat at her words. The server girl carefully folded the top half of the sandwich over onto his cock, and then she picked up a short knife with a bright blue handle. He watched, gulping in anticipation and fear, as she carefully brought the knife to the halfway point along the completed sandwich's length. Then, without pausing and without a single glance up at him, she casually sliced the sandwich (and his cock trapped within it) in half with a neat diagonal cut.
 
 The sensation of the knife passing easily through his flesh was accompanied not by cold, burning pain as one might expect, but only by a mildly uncomfortable pinching sensation. The Q-knife, as signified by its uniquely colored blue handle, detached the first half of his member from the rest of his cock bloodlessly. Then the cute little server girl repeated her motions by taking the rest of his thick dick off flush at the base, separating him from his pride and joy entirely.
 
 He groaned through his gag as the second half of his cock was detached, shivering at the feeling of his cock (both pieces of it!) now being both separate and yet somehow still connected to him at the same time. The sandwich girl ignored him, as she quickly and efficiently wrapped up the two halves of the now finished sandwich in clean white papers, before dropping both into a little bag with the store's logo on it.
 
 "Okay, would you like anything to go with your sandwiches? Cookies, chips?"
 
 "One oatmeal raisin and one chocolate chip cookie, please." The first girl said, after glancing over the selection of sweets.
 
 "Alright, your total is 11.49, please." the sandwich girl said, after adding the requested cookies to the bag.
 
 He could feel each paper wrapped cookie thump into the bag against the pieces of his cock, buried deep within the two sandwich halves. He could do nothing but stand there and watch as his cock was casually sold off for such a paltry sum. No longer his, his member was now just a part of the two girl's lunch meal.
 
 "Thank you!" both girls chimed in, as the sandwich bag was handed over the counter to them.
 
 They were smiling gaily as they contemplated their no doubt delicious sandwiches, and they stood politely aside so that their other friend could get her own sandwich.
 
 "Okay.. Single toasted meatball sandwich on white bread, swiss and cheddar cheese, right?"
 
 "Yes." the third girl said, nodding hungrily.
 
 His ordeal was only half over. The counter girl grabbed him by the balls and tugged him back over to the counter. His gonads were then plopped down onto an open round bun. More slices of cheese were laid across the top of his scrotum, and then he was subjected to the agony of the toaster once more. The second time was even worse than the first, somehow. His toasted testicles, complete with their gooey, melted cheese covering, were pulled out less than a minute later.
 
 "Sauces?"
 
 "A little bit of mayo and a lot of barbecue sauce, please."
 
 The indicated sauces were added atop the cheese, and the slight cooling they caused in his abused flesh was very welcome indeed.
 
 "Veggies?"
 
 "Just peppers."
 
 "Salt, pepper, oil?"
 
 "No thanks."
 
 The top half of the bun was placed and pressed down firmly onto the newly made meatball sandwich. His poor balls were large enough that they bulged plumply from between the two slices of bread roll. Once again, the blue-handled Q-knife was expertly wielded by the counter girl. She took the last of his manhood from him with ease, slicing his testicles away cleanly. A few more seconds to wrap everything up was all that it took to finish the sandwich off.
 
 "Cookies, chips, drink?"
 
 "Barbecue flavored chips and a bottled water, please."
 
 "Alright.. that will be $9.79, please." the counter girl stated, after dropping the chips, drink, and fresh sandwich into another bag and ringing it all up on the register.
 
 "Thanks very much!" the third girl said, beaming happily as she received her lunch.
 
 Just like that, his entire manhood had been prepared, packaged, and sold. All for barely twenty dollars. The girls chattered excitedly as they sat down to eat their food: his flesh. The last thing he saw of the trio was them tearing open the wrapping around their sandwiches, eager to tuck in to their meal. After that, he was pushed into the back by the girl who'd turned his male organs into sandwich fillings.
 
 But even though he couldn't see what was happening anymore, that didn't stop him from feeling it as those same sandwiches were being eaten. The odd properties of a cut made by a Q-knife let him sense everything that was happening to his detached but still living flesh. That meant that he felt every bite, every chew, and every swallow as the cute girls who'd ordered him for lunch ate their sandwiches. Every time their strong, sharp white teeth tore past the bread and sheared into his meat, he could feel it. Every time they nibbled away a piece of his glans, or nipped through yet another bit of shaft, or gnawed on one of his testicles, he could feel it. His flesh was crushed and pulped between their molars, and the agony only ended after enough damage had been done to finally sever the quasi-connection between his body and his manhood. The only mercy he had was that he wouldn't have to feel it as his flesh was slowly digested.
 
 He lay there in the back room, shaking and trembling as his manhood was eaten, surrounded by scores of other men who'd already suffered the same fate. Dozen of men, all freshly emasculated just like him, lay on the cold concrete floor moaning and crying over their loss.
 
 The girl's who'd purchased him left the sandwich shop a few minutes later with full bellies, while he was left with nothing.
 
END Sub-Sandwich
 
3 - Satisfying Work
 
 Alison pulled back on the reins of her sporty little cart, bringing it to a slow halt. Her pony tossed his head rebelliously, but a quick flick and crack of her short whip easily brought him back under control. A new red welt raised itself up on his backside as a result of where her whip had landed. She handed his reins off to one of the young parking attendants, leaving her pony and her single seat riding cart in the girl's capable hands.
 
 Another crack and pained snort sounded behind her, as the parking attendant unhooked her pony and drove him into the stables, but Alison paid it no mind. Her thoughts were instead already on her upcoming workday. A quick stop off in the break room netted her a nice cup of coffee, and she enjoyed her hot drink as she changed into her work uniform. And, since her uniform consisted mainly of a rather brief pair of tight trunks and an entirely optional bikini top (which she naturally chose to forgo), it didn't take her long. Which was good, because she'd been running a bit behind and was almost late for the start of her shift! Rather than admit to herself that she'd probably slept in for a bit too long this morning, she instead chose to blame her pony for her near tardiness. She'd have to make sure to drive him extra hard on the way home as punishment.
 
 She made it to her workstation just in time to relieve the girl from the previous shift. Said girl only rolled her eyes at Alison's sheepish shrug and grin, before she left at the sound of the shift whistle blowing. The other girl's workday might be finished, but Alison's was only now beginning. She stepped into position, tapped the pedal that shifted the elevated production line one position further along, and beheld her first customer of the day.
 
 A damp and dripping man hung from the line. He was bound up and completely nude, with his hands and feet secured together behind him. A spreader bar at his bent knees kept his legs apart and he hung from two points: the shackles on his wrists and ankles, and the thick strap encircling his chest. He was hanging high up and at a slight incline toward her, which meant that it was quite easy for Alison to reach out and grasp his dangling manhood. Said manhood was slick with saliva and rather erect, which was no surprise given that the station just before hers was the fluffer. A quick sideways glance confirmed this, showing Alison the sight of one of her coworkers deep-throating the cock and fondling the balls of yet another restrained and hanging man. The next station over from that was the wash station, which explained why the men were wet and so very clean. Several girls worked the wash station, and they were rather brutally efficient in the way they soaped up and scrubbed off (and out) the squirming men under their not-so-tender mercy.
 
 Alison, returning her attention to her own workstation, took a moment to heft the cock and balls of the man hanging before her. She judged him to be of average size, not that it really mattered, before reaching over and plucking up the tool of her trade: the Trimmer. The Trimmer was a powered tool with three simultaneous functions; banding, docking, and snipping. Alison slipped it over the man's genitals, easily ignoring the way he tried the wriggle away from her or shout and beg through his gag, and settled its thick ring around his flesh. She snugged the Trimmer right up against the root of his manhood, then activated it with a casual flick of her finger.
 
 The device came to life with a humming whir and immediately tightened itself down around the base of the cock and balls, trapping them completely. An electric whine sounded as it stretched and threaded a pair of heavy elastic bands around the inside of the ring, before it released them with a sudden snap. The hanging man's protests were reduced to squeals and groans of pain as the bands crushed his male flesh between thick rubber. His groans were replaced a moment later by shrieks, as the Trimmer emitted a snicker-snack sound and separated him from his manhood entirely. The little tool juddered slightly in Alison's hands as its razor sharp, crescent blade slid quickly back and forth around the interior of the ring. The man's cock and balls were neatly severed between the bands, dropping into her waiting hand.
 
 Disregarding the wailing former man for a moment, Alison set aside the Trimmer and fished up an empty tub from the stack beside her. Once she had it set up, she dropped the newly trimmed and still warm bit of fresh meat into the tub. The nicely banded and firmly erect cock and set of balls looked a little lonely down there, all alone in the bottom of the big container.. but it wouldn't be much longer before she gave them lots of company.
 
 Alison turned back to the man that she'd just made into a cockless eunuch. The second band kept the cut on his groin clean and bloodless, and her next task was to make sure that it stayed that way. She pulled a thick iron rod by its insulated handle out of a heated socket, and buried its cherry red tip into the fresh wound. The helpless man shrieked yet again through his gag, thrashing futilely against his restraints as she ruthlessly cauterized the damaged that she'd just inflicted upon him. The sound and smells of male flesh sizzling against steel made her stomach growl, and she regretted waking up too late to have any breakfast.
 
 After about ten seconds, she pulled the hot iron away to reveal a perfectly round and nicely seared divot where the man's genitals had once been. She replaced the iron in its electric socket so that it would be reheated and ready for when she'd next need it. Then, job finished, she tapped her workstation's pedal again, sending the now thoroughly defeated and sobbing former man away. He hung limply in his restraints as he slid down the production line, all fight now gone from him along with his manhood.
 
 And as her first customer of the day slid away to her right, Alison's next slid into position from the left. The man's cock was proudly erect, despite his having watched everything that his predecessor had been subjected to, thanks in large part to the fluffer's efforts. Alison reached out and took his manhood in hand, gave it a brief grope even as she grinned up at its soon-to-be former owner, and then got down to business. Her work wouldn't do itself, after all!
 
 A tub and a half of severed manmeat later, Alison felt a tap on her shoulder. It was time for her break! She let the girl who was her relief take her place at the trimming workstation, and went to spend a few minutes in the break room. She picked up the piece of manmeat that she'd picked out for her lunch too, and carried it along with her.
 
 Alison dropped her set of freshly harvested cock and balls off at the kitchens. She left them with the chefs, all of whom would be busily cooking up her shift's lunch for the next few hours. Alison had marked her meat just before she'd taken it off the man it had come from, and she'd used a numbered brass tag that was attached to a sharp spike to do so. She'd merely slid the spike through the head of the meat that she'd chosen and capped the tip to keep her tag in place, so that the cooks would know her meal from all the others. Having a free lunch of manmeat every day was a nice little bonus for working for her company, and Alison and all the rest of the girls rather appreciated it! It helped that the chefs were quite good at what they did, too.
 
 After spending a few minutes relaxing and chatting with the other girls on break, all of whom were wearing pretty much the same uniform that she was, Alison went back to work. This was no particular hardship for her, as she really quite enjoyed her job. It was very satisfying to take something relatively worthless, such as a man, and help turn him into something of actual value. Her own workstation was just a small part of the much larger facility, all of which was dedicated to transforming males into money. Raw materials in the form of whole men entered, and then manmeat and cut down and trained boys exited, resulting in profits for everyone involved.. everyone except the men, that is, but livestock didn't get to have an opinion anyway.
 
 Alison worked at her station, busily separating men from their manmeat, until just before lunch. She then swapped places with the worker to her left, so that the girl could clock in a half an hour of training time at the trimming station. Alison didn't mind, since working the fluffing station was rather enjoyable too. Sucking on the freshly washed men, feeling them grow hard inside of her mouth despite their obvious apprehension and fear, and then teasing and keeping them on edge was all good fun. Trying to get their meat fully erect as quickly as possible, yet without letting them orgasm was difficult but rewarding work. And getting to see and feel their distracted arousal transform into terror when the line inevitably shifted along and took them to be trimmed was amusing, as always. Alison always sucked until the last possible second too, just so that she could feel their cocks pulse and tremble in fear. Every man left her mouth with a sharp "pop!" as the line pulled them away.. any maybe a few teeth marks here and there too!
 
 Working the fluffing station always did leave her rather hungry, after all. It was perfect timing to get to do so just before lunch!
 
 Lunch itself was an hour long affair, and very enjoyable. Even aside from the wonderfully cooked meal of man flesh, there was hundreds of other idle employees to mingle and be social with. The cafeteria was its own dedicated room, since none of the individual scattered break rooms were anywhere near large enough to hold everyone all at once. Many of the girls also took the hour long break as an opportunity to work off a bit of steam, and it wasn't at all uncommon to see kissing, fondling, and even more occur. Some slipped away after they paired up, but others didn't even bother, simply doffing their skimpy uniforms and going at it beneath or even on top off one of the lunch tables. Alison was one such girl, as working the trimming and fluffing stations was a surefire way to build up the kind of steam that needed working off!
 
 There were even a few cut down (former) men in sturdy restraints scattered around and available for use or abuse if a girl felt like it. Truly, Alison worked at the best company!
 
 After lunch, Alison went back to work. She cheerfully severed sets of cocks and balls one after another, whistling and humming as she did so. If everything was going well, she could average more than a man a minute.. and sometimes even two or three! At such a rate, it didn't take very long at all to fill up one of the tubs at her feet. And fill them she did! Not enough to break the company record, or even her own personal best, but still enough to put her well above the daily average. It was satisfying work.
 
 Finally though, Alison's shift came to an end. Another girl came to replace her just as the signal whistle blew. The facility worked around the clock, so there was always a line of men waiting to have their cocks and balls trimmed off. Rather than simply leave now that her work for the day was done, Alison instead took a meandering walk through the rest of the production lines. Just for fun.
 
 After her own trimming station came the grading station, where the freshly emasculated former men and now boys were inspected, sorted, and given rough grades. Particularly large or strong looking boys typically got marked as Workboys, while smaller and more delicate boys might be marked for use as Pleasureboys. Long legged, athletic boys usually got put down as Ponyboys.
 
 Alison elected to follow the Ponyboy line, rather than any of the others. The boys selected to become ponies were literally disarmed at the next few work stations, since simple beasts of burden like them wouldn't need arms for anything.. in contrast to most Workboys and Pleasureboys. After that, the freshly neutered and armless boys were unhooked and unbound at the end of the line.. and then put into training straight away!
 
 The Ponyboy trainers were merciless, and any boy that collapsed or otherwise couldn't handle the pain of their new modifications during their training was pulled out and sent off to be re-graded. Since the chief attributes that a Ponyboy needed were perseverance and endurance in the face of hardships, any pony that couldn't take a little bit of pain was judged useless. Basic pony training could take anywhere from a few hours to a few days, depending upon the pony in question. At the end of it, all passed ponies were able to hear and heed simple commands, and pull a light cart as in single harness or in tandem with another. Advanced Ponyboy training for specialized needs was undertaken elsewhere, usually at the end buyer's own expense.
 
 Alison meandered slowly along the livestock fences, watching the Ponyboys undergo their training. All of them had empty crotches that were bare of any hint of masculinity or sexuality, thanks in large part to her own efforts. They were forced to walk, trot, canter, and gallop on command, held at the end of a long leash in the center of round pens. They were also harnessed together and made to practice pulling, turning, and backing up carts. They were even made to race, dashing back and forth along a dirt track just as fast as they could. All this while suffering from the trauma of losing their manhoods and arms mere minutes or hours before.
 
 Alison watched as a galloping Ponyboy stumbled and fell, bursting the stitches on his arm stumps when he hit the ground. He howled and sobbed as he bled, even as he was drug off the track and tossed aside, now discarded as a useless failure.
 
 Not that failed Ponyboys got off any easier. The facility discouraged waste, so if a boy couldn't serve in one capacity, he would then be pushed into another lesser (but still useful) role. The demand for Furnitureboys (for example) was always high, so any failed Work, Pleasure, or Ponyboys that were judged attractive enough in appearance might be cut down and remade into chairs, tables, shelves, light fixtures, or any other of a multitude of common furnishings. Alison herself had a very nice set of matching chair and footstool that had been made from a pair of identical twin Furnitureboys. They were very comfortable, and hardly even whimpered or cried much when she hopped onto them in order to kick back and relax in the evenings after work.
 
 Of course, there were boys who failed (for one reason or another) at even being worthy of becoming some girl's furniture. These otherwise useless boys went on to become Meatboys, and their flesh was what filled out the meat aisles and freezers of markets nationwide. Honestly, they couldn't even really be called failures, since their tasty, tasty meat was dined upon and enjoyed by so very many women. Truly, men were most useful creatures!
 
 Alison finished her impromptu tour of her workplace at the livestock stables. She watched as freshly minted Ponyboys were branded, harnessed up, and then lashed together into large groups of several dozen, before being driven off to market. It felt good, seeing the men that she'd emasculated not that long ago go on to become successful, productive, and (most importantly) obedient ponies!
 
 She returned to her locker after that, and changed out of her work uniform and back into her normal (though similarly brief) clothing. Waving farewell toward some of the familiar faces of her coworkers as she passed through the break room, Alison then left. Her Ponyboy was waiting outside for her, already hitched up to her cute, sporty little cart. She thanked the attendant, and then took a few moments to run her hands possessively over her pony.
 
 Alison's own personal brand had been applied to his empty crotch, right over the top of where his genitals had once been. He was actually a pony that she'd castrated herself while working, and she'd been able to watch his brief, brutal training later on that same day with great pleasure. When he'd held up under the stress and even excelled, she'd known that he was the one for her.. the beast that she wanted pulling her carts.
 
 "Come on, little brother.." Alison said, looking her Ponyboy in the eye before giving him a slap on his bare rump. "..let's get home."
 
 Alison sat down in her cart and, with a crack of her whip striking boyflesh, drove her Ponyboy home from yet another day's worth of satisfying work. And, as she'd promised herself, she drove him extra hard.
 
END Satisfying Work
 
4 - A Day at the Beach
 
 "Whew, it's hot today!" Alison exclaimed. "Wanna get a shake, first?"
 
 "Yes, it is.. and yes, I do!" Bree replied, holding a hand up to shade her eyes.
 
 Alison and her friend had decided to spend the day at the beach. This was proving to be a good decision, because the weather was just so warm! The beach sand was hot under their bare feet, but the water looked cool, blue, and inviting. Of course, swimming wasn't the only thing to do at the beach. There were also stands set up to cater to all of the various desires a girl might have while relaxing on the sand; milkshakes, hotdogs, fishing, and boytoys. And later on there would even be a luau!
 
 The two friends made their way over to where milkshakes were being made. The stand's sign read "Man Milkshake Shack", and it was rather busy. Apparently, many other girls at the beach had had the same idea as Alison and Bree, to enjoy some chilled and flavored manmilk. They had plenty of time to peruse the simple menu as they waited in line. And since there were only three flavors of shake available, it didn't take them long: Vanilla, Strawberry, and Chocolate.
 
 More interesting than the menu was the sight of the men and boys who were restrained behind the counter. The males were all collared and leashed, and had their arms bent up with their wrists attached to their collars. They were also gagged, in order to keep their moans quiet.. and they were moaning quite a lot because of the machine that was relentlessly milking them! Clear tubes made of glass and rubber were affixed to their erect cocks, tubes which pulsed and jerked as they applied a strong, continuous suction to the sensitive male flesh. Electrode patches were also attached to each side of their ball sack, the tickle of electricity apparently helping to stimulate them to ejaculation as quickly as possible.
 
 As the two girls watched, the men all groaned and orgasmed one after another, convulsing and thrusting their hips out as the machine sucked up everything they had to give and more. The resulting manmilk flowed into the refrigerated processing unit, and deliciously flavored shakes were the end result.
 
 "Vanilla, please!" Alison called out, once she and her friend had reached the counter.
 
 "And a strawberry for me, too!" Bree added, licking her lips eagerly.
 
 One of the girls working the counter served up their orders, while another tapped a dial on the machine and frowned.
 
 "They're running dry again!" the girl called out. "We're gonna have to start replacing them!"
 
 "Already? Wow, today's boys just don't have any stamina, do they?" another serving girl replied.
 
 Alison and Bree stepped back and watched the girls work for a moment, even as they began sipping from their wonderfully cold shakes. The empty, exhausted and now limp-cocked boys were unhooked from the milking machine, and pushed roughly aside into a small pen. New, fresh boys with ready erections and full ball sacks were pulled from a much larger pen to take their place. The still restrained spent boys stumbled and fell to the sand, or leaned tiredly against the sturdy fencing of their pen, obviously worn out from their ordeal. Not that they would find respite for long: one of the other stands along the beachfront would be along to collect them soon enough. One cute blonde boy was pulled out almost immediately, along with a few others, and herded along down toward the bait shop.
 
 "Ooh.. wanna do some fishing, next?" Alison asked, her eyes following the blond haired boy even as she idly sipped at her milkshake.
 
 "Sure, sounds fun!" Bree agreed, slurping at her own shake noisily. "Just let me finish this first."
 
 They nursed their milkshakes as they strolled along the beachfront, polishing them off just as they arrived in front of their goal. The sign over the stand read "Ball Bait Shop", though it obviously also lent out poles and fishing tackle in addition to providing the necessary bait.
 
 "Two poles and some bait, please!" Alison said, eyeing the back of the open walled stand.
 
 Lined up along the back were more boys, including the ones that had just been collected from the milkshake stand. The attendant first handed over two fishing rods to Alison and Bree, then casually picked up a filleting knife and approached the line. The men were restrained even more than they had been at the milkshake stand, chained together and helpless.
 
 The bright blond hair of the boy Alison had followed must have caught the attendant's eye, because she chose him to harvest their bait from. Ignoring the boy's futile wriggling protests, she reached out with a firm hand and tugged on his ball sack. Once it was trapped securely in her palm, she wasted no time in slicing it open and fishing his testicles out. Another quick pair of cuts and accompanying screams saw them snipped free, and the girl returned to the counter and handed the boy's balls over to the two friends.
 
 "Thanks!" Alison stated happily, as she and Bree each took one of the freshly harvested testicles in hand.
 
 "No problem, good luck!" the attendant replied with a happy smile.
 
 With that encouragement, the girls baited their hooks.. which was a bit difficult, owing to the slippery and spherical nature of their bait. They then walked down to the waterline and cast their fishing lines out! With their long poles, they were easily able to send their bait far out into the surf. Hopefully, the tempting little bits of meat would entice a nice big fish to bite!
 
 Naturally, they both lost their bait almost immediately. Bree actually managed to hook a fish first, but it slipped off before she could reel her line all the way in.. and the greedy thing took the boy's ball with it, too. Alison's bait just mysteriously disappeared without even a tug or nibble on her line.. very frustrating! So they went back for another set of bait balls. This cycle repeated itself several times before Alison finally managed to land a fish.
 
 It was a nice fish, slick and sleek and plump and very healthy looking. Its little fish belly was just full of pudge, even!
 
 "It must be eating well." Bree commented, as the two friends carefully unhooked the flopping fish and gently released it back into the waves. "It's probably the one that stole all our bait, ha ha!"
 
 Finished with fishing, the two girls returned their poles and thanked the attendant again. As they strode back up the beach, Alison's tummy rumbled.
 
 "Fishing's hungry work." she stated, rubbing at her taut midsection. "Let's get something to eat!"
 
 "Hotdogs sound good?" Bree asked.
 
 "Hotdogs sound very good." Alison answered.
 
 They approached the hotdog vendor, who was very nearly as busy as the girls at the milkshake shack had been. Her sign read "Dickdog Stand", and had a cute little painting of a smiling male member laying in a bun. A little speech bubble saying "Yum!" floated beside it.
 
 "Two hotdogs, please!" Alison stated, once they reached the front of the line.
 
 "Sure thing, girls." the woman working the stand replied. "It'll just be a few minutes, though. Gotta cook up another batch. I'm selling them faster than I can keep up with!"
 
 So Alison and Bree waited and watched as the woman pushed a half a dozen rather hesitant boys up to the grill. They looked like they had all probably been by the bait shop already, given their complete lack of balls, but that was no matter.. because they still had their meaty little dicks! Said dicks had been fitted with a ring at the base, obviously so that they'd be nice and plump for the grill. The boys all screamed as their dicks were pressed down toward the glowing coals, and a secondary layer of mesh was laid over the top in order to trap their erections in the scorching heat.
 
 The boys' screams all died away into sniffles and crying as their meat was slowly cooked. One of them was the same blond boy whose balls the two girls had previously cast out and then lost in the surf. His tear soaked expression as his flesh roasted revealed just how tragic his back to back castration and now penectomy were to him.. not that either girl particularly cared very much about his pain or angst.
 
 Finally though, the dickdogs were done. The cook sliced each sizzling sausage away from its former owner and then carefully laid them into waiting buns.
 
 "I'll have that one, please." Alison said, pointing out the hotdog that had come from the cute blond boy. "Mustard and relish, please. No ketchup!"
 
 "Coming right up, sweety."
 
 Bree took her hotdog with everything on it.. even onions, ugh!
 
 Alison and Bree munched contently on their hotdogs after that, idly wandering along the waterline and chatting between bites.
 
 "Want to lay down for a bit?" Bree asked, as she nibbled away on her last little bit of boyflesh. "I could use some time in some shade."
 
 "Sure." Alison agreed, popping the final bite of her own hotdog into her mouth and chewing happily. "Let's get a toy or two and a sunshade and then go relax."
 
 They ambled over to yet another stand, one with a sign reading "Boytoys!" in large letters. "(and umbrellas)" was added below, as if it were an afterthought of whoever had painted the sign. Nude, restrained boys in various states of masculinity were lined up and available for use. Most of them had nothing left between their legs anymore, but a few still had one bit or the other of their manhoods left.
 
 "Hello! What can I get for you, dears?" the attendant asked kindly.
 
 "An umbrella and a pair of boys, please." Bree said, fanning herself with a hand. "It's getting hotter. I totally need some shade!"
 
 "Sure thing. Any preferences?"
 
 "That cute pink one." Bree replied, pointing toward a violently pink abomination of an umbrella, before switching her aim to a muscular brown skinned boy with an empty crotch. "And that nice dark one."
 
 "And that blond boy in the back." Alison piped up, pointing out the same boy that had been her bait and lunch earlier.
 
 "Here you go. Enjoy!"
 
 "Thanks, we will!" the two friends called back, as they led their new acquisitions along by their leashes. Thankfully, the two neutered boys were gagged in addition to be restrained, so they couldn't protest even if they wanted to.
 
 "Here good?" Bree asked, waving her hand around at an empty patch of sand.
 
 "Sure."
 
 Bree unfolded the umbrella while Alison unrolled their towels. With their shade set up, they sat down on the clean cloth.
 
 "Whatcha want to do with our toys?" Bree asked, idly running her hands over the smooth brown skin of the boy she had picked out.
 
 "Wanna bury one, and keep the other to hold the umbrella up?" Alison replied.
 
 "Why not? That sounds fun!" Bree stated excitedly. "Let's do this one!"
 
 So Alison made her blonde boy hold up their umbrella, while the pair of friends worked on excavating a hole large enough to bury the other boy in completely.
 
 "Let's leave his head and face out." Alison suggested. "I totally feel like giving him a face ride, you know?"
 
 "Sure!"
 
 The boy squirmed and protested through his gag, not that it did him much good, as the two girls wrestled him into a sitting position at the bottom of the hole they'd dug. They moved his wrist restraints down from his collar to his ankles, and then shoved all the hot sand in around and over his body. Soon, he was buried up to his neck, with his chin barely poking out of the sand.
 
 "Nice. He's at a perfect height." Alison commented, once they'd finished. "Mind if I go first?"
 
 "Go for it."
 
 Alison shifted her towel around so it was laying right in front of the boy's face, then kneeled down over his head. She pulled the side tabs of her bikini bottom and slipped it off, then pushed the buried boy's forehead back and sat on his face.
 
 "Ahh.. I needed this." Alison moaned happily, as she ground her sex against the helpless boy's mouth and nose. "Ow! No biting!"
 
 "Haha!" Bree laughed, laying back on her own towel in the shade provided by their ugly pink umbrella.
 
 "Oh, it's a good thing he's been defanged, or I would be mad!" Alison growled, swatting the naughty boy's scalp. "Argh, he did it again!"
 
 Thankfully, the boy's empty gums weren't capable of inflicting much in the way of damage, so all his efforts to bite Alison's sex only inflamed her need further. After several more minutes of rocking and grinding, punctuated by the occasional desperate gasp for air from the trapped boy, Alison finally climaxed.
 
 "Oohh.. that was wonderful." she breathed, her bare chest heaving as she laid back on her own towel. "I think I'll have another go in a bit.. because why not, right?"
 
 "Mm.." Bree moaned, after she had mounted the boy's face herself. "Yeah, I think it's better when they fight it. It's still a good thing he has no teeth though, or he'd have already bitten my poor little clitty right off!"
 
 The well satiated girls relaxed for a time after that, just enjoying the shade. The blond boy held up their umbrella, doing his best to keep it upright with the awkward grip forced on him by his bound hands. Later, they went for a quick dip in the cool ocean waters, had another turn or two riding the face of their buried boytoy, and then spent the rest of the warm afternoon napping and watching the luau preparations.
 
 The luau featured a triple roast. Three tasty looking males were chosen from the boytoys stand, scrubbed off and cleaned out rather thoroughly, and then spitted on thick steel poles. It took four girls to carry each pole over to the cooking pit, and even more to help mount the squirming spit roasts over the waiting bed of coals.
 
 The nullified and now impaled boys all writhed in the heat, helpless as they cooked. Each was basted with sweet and savory sauces, over and over as the afternoon wore on. Their skin glistened, crackled, and popped as the sauces caramelized. The utterly delightful smell summoned a small flock of seagulls, and much effort was devoted to keeping the pesky birds away from the roasting boymeat. Alison and Bree even had to shoo a few away from the head of their buried and helpless boytoy, despite the fact that he was right at their feet.
 
 Hundreds of girls lingered near as the roasts cooked, the luau turning into a rather pleasant social gathering. A few people brought along instruments, and spontaneous singing and dancing started to occur too.
 
 Finally, as sunset neared, the roasts were done. Alison and Bree managed to snag a plateful each of prime cuts, some even with the crispy and delicious skin still on. They ate their slices of boy rump and thigh with their fingers, getting messy with meat juices as they did so and enjoying every second of it.
 
 "Oh my god.. I love this!" Bree moaned, as she sucked another morsel into her pursed lips. "How is this so good? My roasts never turn out anything like this!"
 
 "Mm.." Alison hummed, sighing in contentment as she shredded a particularly rich and fatty cut into smaller pieces, before popping one fragment between her molars and savoring the sudden burst of juices. "That's because you're a terrible cook, Bree."
 
 "Arg.. I want to deny it, but I just can't!" Bree pouted, before returning to her feast. "Maybe they'll share their recipe.."
 
 The two friends finished their food and then watched as the sun slowly set, the brilliant orb kissing the horizon and coloring everything with shades of crimson and gold.
 
 "Whew, what a day!" Alison breathed out, smiling at the beauty.
 
 "Yeah, this was great." Bree agreed. "Wanna go for one last walk before we head home?"
 
 "Sure. We can return our umbrella afterward."
 
 The two girls picked up their things, rolled up their towels, and set off. The blond boy trailed along behind, carrying the umbrella for them. The buried boy they just left there with his helpless head sticking out of the sand, and the seagulls took that as their opportunity to sweep down and have a feast of their own at his expense. His muffled shrieks went ignored.
 
 The sun set completely, and dusk grew nearer. The tide had ebbed, and the waterline fallen far below where it had been when they first arrived. Further out on the tidal flats the soft sand gave way to sporadic patches of pebbles and rocks, and seaweeds and crustaceans clung tenaciously even after being exposed. And among the rocks was the occasional thickly cast concrete block, each entirely bare save for a single heavy loop of corroded iron poking up from the top.
 
 "Hey, want to leave an offering?" Alison asked, pointing out one of the nearer blocks.
 
 "Sure, why not? Maybe it'll bring us good luck!" Bree agreed. "Good thing we brought your toy down with us."
 
 Alison tugged the blond boy over to the block by his leash. He was, perhaps understandably, rather reluctant to go anywhere near the thing. It was just too bad for him that he didn't have a choice in the matter. Together, the two girls succeeded in pulling him over to the block and attaching the end of his leash to the sturdy loop.
 
 "There we go." Alison stated, before bowing low toward to ocean.
 
 Bree joined in with the bow, and both girls took a moment to observe their offering's frantic but futile struggles to free himself from the immovable concrete block. He wasn't the only boy in such dire circumstances either. All up and down the beach, many other girls were leaving boys of their own attached to iron loops in similar low blocks.
 
 "It feels good to give back." Bree said, smiling faintly. "I don't usually go in for much religious stuff, but sometimes.. on evenings like this.. you just feel it, you know?"
 
 "I know." Alison said, nodding. "And heck, even if the priestesses have all got it wrong somehow, it'll still be a nice meal for all the crabs and fish. Win-win, either way."
 
 "Yeah."
 
 The two friends then turned, leaving the helpless and panicking blond boy to wait for the tide to come back in, and walked back up the beach. It had been an absolutely great day.
 
 "Wanna come back tomorrow?"
 
 "Yeah, sure!"
 
END Day at the Beach
 
Author's Note:
 
 Just a few fun non-con shorts. A lot of my stories last year were more on the consensual side of things, so I felt like varying it up some. I hope you all enjoy them! (And comment, haha)
 
END CBT Shorts 6