3 Carla

The doorbell rang. Once, twice. Nervous but confident, Pauline stood up straighter and opened the door.

There was a white van parked outside, sliding door open. A riding lawnmower and gardening shears were laying sideways inside. Behind it was a stack of huge, black plastic containers with yellow wheels, like for big power tools.

Her Aunt Carla was a huge woman, 6” flat, muscular, broad swimmer’s shoulders. She was dressed in work boots, stone-washed jeans and a loose-fitting, gray-white, checkered button-down shirt through which her bra and C-Cup Breasts could be vaguely made out. She wore her Auburn hair close-cropped, military style. There was some white in the stubble at her temples.

“Mornin’ girls! Ready for some sweatin’?”

Carla clapped her huge hands, loudly.

At the lack of a reaction, she looked down at Pauline. The teenager was looking past her shoulder at the van. Intently.

“Oh yeah you prolly wanna know about my kit. Yeah, I brought it. Got a certified rogue ‘round here? Should I call for backup? I can get the boys to let ya watch if ya want. But can’t let ya do it. Or do it myself. Got no field license, y’ know. Regulations.”

“Nothing like that. It’s for Tina.”

“…Tina?”

Carla looked over Pauline’s head.

“Where’s that little cutie, anyway? Haven’t seen ‘er in forever! And what would my… office kit be useful for anyway, with her of all people?”

“Yeah, about that… I gotta show you something. And I need to ask you a favor. Don’t tell dad. At least not until I have shown you everything, okay? Please. This is important.”

Carla blinked.

“Okay, that’s not ominous at all, kid.” she replied with a flat tone and raised eyebrows.

Pauline just looked at her as she stood, unmoving, in the doorway.

“Right then, if it will stop ya creeping me out, hit me. What did ya do that concerns yer lil’ sister, MY supposed work AND needs t’ be secret?”

Pauline took a deep breath. This was where she could quite literally die, if she had made any mistake.

She had to assume she was right about the precise nature of her aunt’s work, about who she was as a person and about how much she loved her brother.

Time to roll the dice. She set her shoulders.

“I have started training her. She-“

“Training?” Carla interrupted, not following.

“Yes, training her. She is-”

As Carla opened her mouth to interrupt her again, Pauline spoke louder, raising a defensive hand.

“Let me finish, please! You need to know this before I let you in! Before you… see. Thank you. Okay. Tina… She is a candidate for a primetime volunteer job. A very marketable one. Star potential.”

“WHAT! Ya can’t be serious.”

Carla then wiped the stunned look of her face and glanced over her shoulder suspiciously, but the quiet suburban street was empty. She turned back to Pauline, her brow wrinkled.

“And who taught ya that lingo, anyway? Yer like 12, damnit.”

“I’m 16! And I learned it for myself. You know, the internet?”

Pauline shook her head and shushed her aunt’s next objection with a raised hand.

“I’m dead fucking serious. Tina is gonna score insanely high on the submission AND pain axis. She’s obedient. She’s a little slut. She not only tolerates humiliation, but she relishes it. She’s chemically sensitive. And she has no problem lickin pi-”

Carla took a step forward and shushed her niece with a rough finger to the lips.

“Quiet, for fucks sake.“ She hissed.

“Really can’t let people hear ya talk like that.”

Pauline took a step back to dodge her aunt’s arm and kept speaking.

“I’m serious, she’s got all the prerequisites.”

“What, humiliation kink, a chemmer and a pain sub? At like 8 years old? Yer shittin’ me.”

“Nope. She can be ready in, like, a week max, maybe two if you want to really make her perform. You can check her out for yourself. Here, listen.”

“Hey, PIGGY, press the button!” Pauline called out.

A click sounded from inside the house, close by, followed by strong buzzing and a sharp inhale. Leaning forward into the house, Carla could hear sudden intense breathing, almost moaning. Her thick brow wrinkled harder.

“How long ‘ve ya been trainin’ her for?” she asked.

“We started yesterday. Evening. She’s a natural.”

Carla whistled.

“Heard ‘bout earlier instances of snuff-curiosity. Virus ‘posedly triggers sex drive ‘fore puberty in very rare cases. But that’s…”

She frowned, then went on.

“No experience ‘forehand?”

“Nope.”

“Any… other, y’know, “worldly” knowledge on her part?”

“Nah, dad kept her completely snuff-blind. No porn through friends yet, too. Official propaganda only.”

Carla huffed and threw up her hands, exasperated.

“Fucking idiot. I keep tellin’ Charles that Mary’s gone, but he wants to cling to her memory so much he harms yer sister with his fucking stupid fucking protectiveness. Kid’s livin’ in the fucking 90s.”

She shook her head.

“She’ll never feel normal if he won’t let her see the real world. FUCK! She’ll die scared and confused if she fucks up, and inexperienced as she is, she fucking WILL fuck up the second she is out there alone.”

Pauline nodded along. Her thoughts exactly.

“You’re tellin’ me! Okay, you in or not? I know what you ACTUALLY do for work. Don’t try to bullshit me.”

At that, Carla raised an eyebrow.

“Really now?”

Pauline held her gaze, unflinching.

Carla took another glance over her shoulder, then stepped forward again, pushing the teenager inside with a rough shove.

“…I’m in. This is somethin’ ya don’t see every day. Show me the bitch. But it better be convincing.”

“So, no gardening?” Pauline asked with a smile.

“No gardenin’.” Carla grunted.

Pauline cheerily tossed the gloves and hat onto the coatrack next to the door.

__

Pauline and Carla rounded the corner to the living room and walked up to the small shape kneeling in a wet puddle in the corner that was rocking back and forth on a black rubber vibrator and looking intently at the floor.

Carla let her eyes slide over the sight.

Almost automatically, her professional gaze took in the clues.

Submissive posture. Puddle of cuntjuice, growing. Horny checked out.

Dolled up, with collar. Humiliation was definitely part of the deal here.

Immediately visible bruises, combined with elevated libido indicating a definite pain slut or high pain tolerance at the least.

She whistled again and looked sidelong at Pauline.

“Yesterday, huh? What d’ ya call her? Any triggerwords ya want me t’ keep pushing?”

“Just call her Piggy for now. She likes all kinds of degradation, responds real well to calling her a fatty. Slaps are basically magic.”

Pauline gestured towards Tina, who was still pleasuring herself, the world seemingly forgotten.

It appeared she was not even hearing them. The drugs must be kicking in hard now. Good timing.

“Go on, you can command her for now. I’ll get your stuff.”

Pauline squatted before her sister and slapped her lightly on the cheek.

“PIGGY! Hey, Piggy! Listen to your aunt. No talking back.”

Tina made a small “Mrruh?”-noise like a cat that heard a weird sound from another room.

“Thanks dear.” Carla said over her shoulder as she herself squatted down in front of Tina and Pauline stepped out to walk to the white van’s open sliding door.

Carla reached out and gently, but firmly. took the rubber vibrator away, turning it off. Her niece kept rocking back and forth for a second, disoriented, hand grasping nothing where the vibrator had been, a wetness glistening between her legs and all over the fabric of the lingerie below her navel, and in a nice little puddle on the floor, then looked up into the dark brown eyes of her aunt Carla.

Then she smiled up at her with her wide, green eyes, beaming, the irises in which seemed a little too dilated. She did not speak though. Submissive indeed.

Carla reached out and raised Tina’s chin, gently turning her head.

“Ah, dosed ya already I see. Good strat, that, hooking ya cunts early. Gives more leverage when they age out of productiveness, y’ know. ‘Stead of havin’ to drag ‘em kicking an’ screaming.” She told the child absentmindedly, turning her head around the other way, this time roughly, to get a better look at the bruised, collared neck.

“Usually takes some rampin’ up though, t’ get the conditioning right.”

She pressed on one bruise, and Tina hardly reacted other than with a moan and a hand sliding across her thigh towards her sex.

“Hot dayumn, put ya through the wringer already, huh?”

Tina was still quiet and said nothing.

“Okay, time t’ check out the goods. Ti- What was it? Piggy, get up, stand. Good.”

Tina rose and stood, still smiling a slightly unfocused smile at her squatting aunt, eyes now level with hers, and moving aimlessly. Carla noticed that the standing girl was again slowly reaching a hand towards her cunt.

“Stop. STOP! PIGGY! I said, stop. Don’t touch yourself.”

Tina froze and her distant smile transformed into a shamed grimace as it seemed she was roughly pulled from her drug haze back to reality. She looked down at her stockinged feet.

“S-Sorry aunt Carla, sorry Mistress I mean! Sorry! I- I was not thinking really or thinking too much I guess. It- felt like I was dreaming just now? I think.”

“No worries kid. That’s the drugs. Be a good piggy and listen. Spread yer arms, turn around. Nicely done. Bend over. Deeper, fatty, come on.”

Tina was now standing with her back to her aunt, bent forward and hands touching her toes. The crotch of her lingerie was glistening wetly, as were her thighs and the tops of the stockings.

“Stay still and lemme get a look.”

Carla stepped closer again and roughly tore open the buttons holding the sopping wet lingerie’s crotch closed, thereby revealing the undeveloped, puffy lips of her niece and her small, pink asshole, the latter almost hidden behind thick, jiggly ass cheeks and thighs. Well, thick for a kid, she thought.

Carla spread the little minx’ pussy lips roughly, confirming the intact hymen and no vaginal tearing or scarring. Then she spread the ass cheeks, also no tearing or scarring. Nodding, satisfied, she rose again.

“Good, you can kneel again. Stay, and be quiet.”

Her expression grew deathly serious, her tone flat.

“Need to talk t’ yer sister.”

When Tina had scrambled back to her spot, Carla went out, closed the door behind her and stepped over to the garage, where Pauline had just pulled up and inside the second of two heavy, locked plastic boxes on wheels.

“Huh, moved those by yourself, didcha? Not bad, kid. Lemme feel yer bicep.”

Hesitantly, Pauline flexed her right bicep and let her aunt touch her.

“Firm!” she grinned.

“Bit skinny, but real firm. Nice. What’s yer routine?”

“Just bodyweight stuff. Squats, pullups, pushups. Need it in a moshpit, y’know. And for… men.”

She grimaced.

Carla showed another approving smile, then exhaled and looked suddenly crestfallen, took a step back. She grabbed the cord dangling next to her and closed the garage door.

“Okay kid, listen, I’m stallin’. ‘Cause I really don’t wanna hurt ya, but if ya don’t answer these next questions exactly like I need t’ hear, I’m gonna hafta kill ya.”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose with one hand.

“Not right now, maybe, if ya don’t fuck up too bad, but they’ll just take ya in, guaranteed, if this goes where I fear it’s going. Don’t fuck this up now. Please. Not after what you pulled with T. For yer dad’s sake.”

Pauline swallowed hard. She expected something like this, but not the raw intensity.

“Yer sister ’s practically gone already. Kid’s one misstep away from gettin’ snuffed by the first horny bastard she runs into outside of school, way ya set her up. Can’t let Charles lose his other girl too.”

Carla took a shaky breath.

“So, please, be honest, no matter what I ask ya now.”

Pauline just nodded; shoulders tense.

Carla opened one of the boxes, rummaged for a second, and pulled out a small, black gun, holding it at her thigh, pointed down.

The black-haired teenager took a hasty step back and rattled the tool cart behind her, raising her hands.

“Honesty.” Carla reminded her, brown eyes blazing.

Carla tapped the gun, barrel still pointing down, at her leg and looked directly at her niece before speaking in a practiced interrogation voice, asking questions she sounded like she had asked dozens of times before.

“Question #1: Have you had sex yet?”

“Yes.”

“With men?”

“Yes.”

“Got hurt?”

Pauline swallowed.

“…Yes.”

“Bad?”

“Yes.”

“Still fucking men?”

“No.”

The pistol came up higher, the arm holding it laid across Carla’s abdomen. She leaned in, piercing eyes directed at Pauline’s.

“Ya HATE all men now?”

“No.”

Carla studied her face a moment, seemed to find what she needed to find and exhaled, less tense.

“Question #2: Have you seen for yourself or watched on non-educational video, any type of extrajudicial, non-sanctioned killings?”

“Yes.”

“Killings of men?”

“No.”

“At the hands of men?”

“Yes.”

“At the hands of women?”

“N-“ Pauline hesitated.

Honesty. She breathed deep, twice.

“Yes.”

The pistol came up again, pointing at Pauline’s chest this time.

“Question #3: Are ya unsatisfied with the current political and social order and your place in the world?”

Honest, Pauline thought. Shaking. Eyes closed, bracing for the gunshot, she said:

“Yes.”

When no shot rang out, she opened her eyes. Her aunt had pulled out her cell phone and glanced at it, bringing up the contacts app.

Carla seemed to tense up and took a deep breath, focusing on Pauline again.

“Do ya want this order to change?”

“No.”

“Why?”

When Pauline did not answer, Carla took a quick step toward her, keeping the gun pointed at the black-haired teenager’s face.

“WHY?! Speak.”

Hastily, Pauline blurted out:

“Advantage! I, uh… I can use it to my advantage! If- If I can gain a protected status.”

“What advantage?”

“Satisfy a desire.”

“What desire?”

Carla was now directly in Pauline’s face, the pistol pressed to the girl’s temple.

Pauline took a shaky breath and clenched her eyes shut.

“To hurt women. Girls.”

“Not men?”

“Don’t like men.”

Carla suddenly sagged backwards, sinking down onto a box. The gun clattered to the floor. She put her phone away and sighed.

“God fucking damnit, kid. Ya had me shittin’ bricks for a hot minute there. Dangerously close to feminist terrorism, some o’ that. Treason, even.”

Pauline’s heart hammered as if she had just completed a two-mile sprint.

She gasped out:

“I needed to try. Needed to KNOW. Uh… Sorry for stressing you out.”

“Whaddaya mean, know?”

“About you. I need you. If I’m right about you.”

“Thought ya knew all about me?” Carla said smugly, smirking and her tone slightly mocking.

“I had… an inkling.”

Pauline continued:

“There is talk. In places, online. Kinda secret. Of women working directly with euthanasia candidates. Voluntary ones. And involuntary ones. Official and unofficial. Media production. Off-the-books actions, but government-sanctioned. Producing material to spread clandestinely.”

She gestured vaguely towards an old TV in the corner.

“Videos to influence women, keep them submissive and docile and hold the social order together. It’s said these chicks have to be tough. Stoic. Sadistic. I needed to know if I was right. About what you do. What you are.”

She swallowed.

“I want to do it too.”

Carla looked nonplussed.

“What, ya read those horror stories, took one gander at my ol’, wrinkly ass and thought “Yeah, that’s definitely something that sweet old aunt fucking Carla would be doing” or what?”

“Hey,” Pauline said, finally letting the tension slip from her posture, “you’re not exactly inconspicuous, you 2-ton lesbian hulk.”

“Watch yer mouth ya little shit!” Carla said, pointing a finger at her niece with a smile.

Then, sounding a bit unsure, she went on:

“I’m aint that obvious, right?”

“Well, you also got, like, gray hair, callused as fuck hands, need help to even boot your laptop and I’ve never seen you with or heard you talk about a man and you don’t have kids. And yet, here you are.”

“Huh.” Carla intoned; a bit nonplussed that her ingenious disguise as a docile office drone was not working.

“Yet, here I am.” She murmured.

A damn teenager, of all people. She shook her head.

Then she leaned back on an elbow so she reclined across her box and the one behind it.

“So, what’s yer plan? Wanna groom yer sister, make her the star of a feature film when she’s old enough? If ya wanna go in when she’s a teenager, I know some guys in the industry that ‘re tryin’ to push for younger. But that takes some definite legal wizardry if ya wanna do it when she don’t look 18, and I don’t really wanna fuck with that.”

“Nah, not like that. I want… I want to do it myself. All of it. I want her to be my first, and I want you to help me and I want… I want to work with you when I’ve graduated!”

“What, and ya wanna make a film of it yerself too, or why d’ ya need my stuff?” Carla asked, smacking one of the boxes.

“Precisely. It’ll be my audition tape. For the org. If you put in a good word for me, it will work. I don’t want to die to some limp-dick fatso just ‘cause I don’t want to get fucking pregnant. I want to be the one doing the killing. For the rest of my LONG fucking life!”

Pauline nearly shouted that last part. Carla nodded.

“I can work with that. It’s risky, for yerself, but ya got the spirit. If the tape’s good and ya show potential, I’ll vouch for ya. Good chance we can use ya, bunch of our male agents dropped out recently. Psychological issues, y’see, since we’ve started producing more… intense material. Not enough penis-endowed psychos t’ go ‘round, I guess.“

After another thoughtful moment, Carla started moving.

“Okay, let’s get a plan together and tell the kid she’ll be having a REALLY sweet 16th.”

“No! No.” Pauline interrupted, as Carla was getting up from her box. “Wait, please. I don’t want her to know it’s coming. Until the end. If she herself can’t figure it out, I want it to be the ultimate betrayal. I want to… to see her cry, really cry, not for show, to please me, or because of a fucking limp-wristed fucking slap or something, but because she knows, realizes, I don’t give a shit about her pleasure. Or her. I want it so she KNOWS. Knows in her heart, that I am killing her. Against her will. Because I fucking want to. And nobody will fucking mourn her.”

Pauline shivered.

“And… I want… I want to do it soon. Weeks.”

Pauline breathed hard. Carla raised her hands calmingly.

“Hoooboy, intense, kiddo. Intense. But hot. Okay, let’s say we can pull all that off, at her current fucking age, train her up to it without her realizing it’ll happen soon, then do her in spectacularly, film the whole thing and cum buckets, laughing all the way to the bank.”

She looked at the ceiling of the garage in thought, then waggled a finger at Pauline.

“Which is a big ask, by the way. So, let’s say we get that, yeah? How the FUCK will we deal with your fucking dad, who will be fucking furious if we kill his Mary-clone, and, more importantly, the fucking feds the millisecond that video of you icing a preteen goes public anywhere? And it will, shit like that gets leaked fast, once it’s in the system. Seeing us women kill other chicks like that, unsanctioned, illegal prey too, that’d be pretty hard to wriggle out of - even with my connections.”

“Not if she’s certified terminal beforehand. Infertile and exacerbating mental or physiological conditions.”

“Pauline, she’s a fuckin’ kid. And just had her last checkup.” Carla pulled out her phone again and scrolled through an app listing names of SNB clinics.

Damn, she really did have connections, Pauline thought.

Carla brought up the phone so her niece could see what came up as she tapped one, then entered her sister’s name in the search bar. Then she read the bullet points:

“She’s still developing, cannot yet conceive, but all the bits are there and working so far. I quote, “will plausibly be a productive, fertile member of society and is to be granted all protections until both age 18 and first fertilization attempt have occurred to allow further judgement. NOTE: Potential psychological acceptance gap due to limited exposure to SNB procedures.””

She snorted at that last bit.

“Fuckin’ Charles…”

Then she went on:

“No can do like that, we’d need a rock-solid diagnosis to even put in a euthanasia request for anyone under 21. For preteens, they’re real fucking stingy with those. Even with a fertility diagnosis, unless they have certified exacerbating factors, like terminal illness or mental issues on top – and even then I’d need to call in a big fuckin’ favor t’ make it a movie.”

“Then call in that favor, because I have an idea how she’ll get that diagnosis no problem.”

“Let’s hear it, I’ll be real proud of ya if ya can convince me we could pull that one off. And we better do, ‘cause ya already marked her so well it won’t be gone ‘till Charles is back. And that’s without the obvious mental shift.”

__

An hour later, the two emerged from the garage through the door to the kitchen.

Tina had been kneeling the entire time. A few minutes in she had gotten bored and horny from the drugs again, and the flickering and buzzing sunlight made her head spin, so she picked up the big rubber toy and turned it on.

She had been using it for most of the past hour and was blissfully rocking back and forth on it, relishing in the bliss the drugs amplified in her body. She might have had cummies too, she thought, but her fuzzy mind and numb body did not really register them. There was an intense wetness in her nethers, where the lingerie still hung open and a little puddle of girljuice glistened below her.

By now, it had grown to the size of her splayed-out hand. She was just, almost, cresting another wave of bliss when she heard the door opening. Mistress was back! She straightened, the toy still buzzing, and listened intently.

Two sets of footsteps, one very heavy, were coming into the kitchen.

“Again, kid, hot damn. Where did ya get that plan? It’s insane!”

“Happened to me in a dream. Lost sleep over it. A lot. Felt like I really need to do it to someone to be rid of it. Someone innocent.”

“Oh boy, might wanna tone down the edge when the cams come out. Won’t nobody believe that amount o’ goth, girlfriend.”

Both laughed.

As they turned the corner to the living room, Tina smiled up warmly at them, green eyes glazed over and unfocused, drool glistening on her chin in the mid-day sunlight. Carla bumped her niece with an elbow.

“Ya dosed her good, training today ‘ll be pretty slow, if we get any done.”

“Nah, watch.”

Pauline stepped forward quickly and slapped Tina hard on her badly bruised cheek.

“Hey! HEY!”

Another slap.

Tina’s eyes focused on hers, mostly confused. The ketamine was numbing the pain response very nicely.

“Pig slut, you there? Say “Yes, Mistress.””

“Yes- Yes Mistress.”

“Good girl. We have something to tell you. It’s important for your development. So, keep your eyes open and listen well, or we’ll have to punish you again. And turn off that damn thing.”

Tina at once flicked the switch, quickly missing the buzzing feeling and finding her mind drifting as she ground the silent toy against her sex.

Then she heard Pauline’s voice again, Mistress’ voice. She focused hard, fixated on every word as on a tiny light through a thick fog, because she wanted to really impress her and get praised again for how good she listened.

“Okay, yesterday we talked about what you want, remember?”

The blonde girl in lingerie and a pink dog collar nodded.

In her mind, a bloody metal spit pushed through the mouth of a dying woman. With hair like hers.

“And do you still want to try and learn all about that stuff?”

“Yes Mistress!” the pre-teen said enthusiastically.

Tina couldn’t believe it. They were really showing her more stuff, more feelings. And Auntie would help, maybe?

More. More pleasure. The buzzing in her body slowly became unbearable without the focus of the vibrator and the lights seemed to bloom brighter in the room.

Her head pulsed.

They were even praising her for wanting it!

“Good slut pig. That’s why Auntie and I are gonna train you up really well. We will show you lots of grown-up stuff. To make you a good girl. But for the best things, Auntie needs to work hard on your silly little head first, so some of the training may hurt a lot or be real embarrassing. Think you can do it? Are you brave enough?”

“Yes Mistress!”

Tina, brimming with sudden happiness, stretched her body up a bit higher from her kneeling position, her round ass almost vertical and wetness staining her thighs below the opened bottom of her underwear. She was proudly showing her perky nipples, surrounded by bruises. Euphoria welled up inside her, when Pauline kissed her softly on the lips.

“Good girl.”

Tina moaned contentedly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll both help ya real good.” Carla said.

“Now, let’s get started.”

With that, the two picked up their baby slut, each taking one arm, and carried her to the garage.

The toy slipped from Tina’s limp hand and lay forgotten in a puddle of her juices, sunlight sparkling on each drop.

__