Chapter 10: The Dawn of Piglet

Jenny is dreaming at the moment- not Jenny, something else.

Something with long sharp teeth, a bristled hide and a hunger.

A hunger that moved her body before her mind could register the thing she wanted.

Sniffing the forest floor of leaf-rot and wet earth, persistent hunger driving her.

Her mind focus through the trees as she spots a Duck—a white-brown ducky, wings tucked, nestled in a soft depression of ferns.

Prey.

Zeroing in, her gut rumbling like a stone into still water.

She ready to pounced, her heavy body springs to life jumping, crashing down, ducky should have fled-should of flutter away but it didn’t. It rolled, exposing its soft underbelly, its throat, the tender drumsticks where thigh met body.

Submission.
Something a beast-brain understood: this is natures agreement older than teeth.

A predator takes its preys yields.

Her jaws closed around a drumstick. Tearing, consuming.

Feathers and warmth and something rich and dark flooded her mouth. The duck quivered but did not struggle.

She fed—on wings, on its breast, tearing into its beating heart.

Her belly grew heavy. Her snout wet with blood. She wanted more. Mindlessly devouring her prey.
———
She woke with a gasp, her mind registering the taste still on her tongue.

The theater is dark except the low glow of the theater guide lighting. The screen had gone black, the film long over.

Ducky lay pressed against her side, one hand holding Jenny right arm.
The same arm at her crotch- her hand felt pressure still buried between ducky’s thighs—actually her whole hand.

She realized, the knuckles squeezed tight inside the warm, silky grip of ducky’s inner walls.

She remembered, now. The movie had been background noise to their slow, sleepy play: ducky’s legs spreading wider, her whispers of encouragement.

Jenny’s fingers kept exploring, pushing deeper, until a wet pop and a muffled moan signaled that her whole fist had slipped inside.

The orgasm that followed left ducky limp and sighing, already spent and half-asleep.

Jenny finally coming to her senses.

Carefully, she withdrew. A soft, slick sound, and ducky stirred but did not wake.

How she could possibly sleep with a hand up her pussy was beyond her.

Her hand glistened in the faint light from the paused player.

The theater is silent.

Not the silence of a sleeping house, but something deeper—the hush of a world holding its breath before dawn.

She wiped her fingers absently on the blanket, attempts to slip from ducky and get up.

She slipped from the seat, moving slowly from ducky’s embrace, grabbing the blanket-tucking it back around her slim shoulders.

Jenny’s bare feet made no sound on the carpet as she walked to the door-opened it a crack. The front windows beyond was black. Still night.

A time when rural takes a breath, when farm’s rhythms paused.

She closed the door and padded back to the player. The cassette of Night of the Living Dead ejected with a mechanical whir.

She slid it into its case, returned it to the shelf.

Her eyes scanned the other titles, but nothing caught her interest. She bent over, hands on her upper knees, scowling at the spines of movies. She swayed her cute freckle ass back and forth as she read titles. Her piggy tail moving to the rhythm of her sway. Keeping her stimulated without realizing it.

She couldn’t decide.

Maybe she should just go back to sleep. Snuggle up with tasty ducky.

She thought about her dream- about ducky sleeping behind her.

She wanted to pounce, to taste ducky- her own slit moisten.

She thought about their kissing, How she wanted it, how ducky needed it-she like tasting ducky’s breath, her lips, her tongue.

Am I tasting her? She looked over at ducky.

Her thighs dripping her nectar down her legs.

A hunger for ducky. She smirked, ducky would probably welcome it

She recalls Ms Bakers passionate kisses, the ones that made her weak in the knees-was she tasting her? Would she do it? Would piglet want it?

She couldn’t answer that question.

She recalled In nature class- it’s eat or be eaten-predator and prey. Hierarchy of the food chain.

School taught her that.
Yet they shielded her from life, finding her place.

The farm has shown her so much more, things hidden from her. Personal nature, sexual hunger-her role in life- as a tasty little piglet.

She turn back to the movie wall. Must be something to watch. She wiped her wet pussy-tasting it. She had to agree- she did taste good.

Something she hadn’t notice last night. Her skin is so smooth, no peach fuzz anywhere.

Even the her arms are free of hairs. Her mound free as well- her light orange starter patch bare.

Her cute freckles prominently on full display.

“Movie”, she tried to refocus. Looking across. The rows- then she tilt her head up.

The top shelf, the dozen or so identical cases—matte black, no artwork.

Just a peek she told herself. Turning one last time to the door.

She pulls the first case down, its face cover had only a cryptic labels in neat white handwriting.

FFATHLG and a string of numbers. Should she watch it? She bit her thumbnail- She glance at ducky, still motionless under the blankets. Then at the door. Then back at the case in hand.

The plastic was cool and smooth. She cracked it open: inside, a cassette with the same letters and numbers on its label. She realize the numbers represent a date.

One week ago! She think trying to think how lone she has been here. It didn’t matter, it felt like forever.


FFATHLG. What did that mean? She looked around again, like a child stealing cookies, before sliding the cassette into the player.

She crossed back to the the seat- lifted the blanket, and settled in beside ducky’s sleeping warmth. ducky instantly shifted-her arm snaking across Jenny’s chest, her cheek nestling against Her shoulder.

Piglet considered fetching a bottle of Daisy’s milk, but ducky’s grip tightened, so she decided not to move.

She paused momentarily before pressing play-pressed play.

The screen flickered. A block of white text formed on a black background:

For Educational Purposes Only.

Jenny groaned inwardly. Another boring school training video? Her finger hovered over the stop button.

Then the title card faded in:

Farmer Fred and the Hairless Goat.

She froze. The scene that followed was immediately familiar—the butcher station, the stainless steel surfaces, the hanging meat hooks. Ms. Baker’s Private kitchen. piglet recognized the bandsaw in the corner, the precise arrangement of knives on the magnetic strip.

Old Farmer Fred entered the frame. Looking handsome for his age.

He wore a canvas apron, and around his waist was a leather tool belt slotted with shears, a boning knife, a skinning blade, a cleaver.

He faced the camera with a relaxed, almost fatherly smile.

“Today I’m going to show you a different technique for butchering a goat.”

“First off, we’ll need a goat for this demonstration.”

He looked off camera with a gentle nod

A cute girl stepped into the frame. She a pretty brunette with friendly eyes and an athletic body—pretty toned for a girl that age- trim shoulders, small breasts, a sweet looking mound.

She stood naked and comfortable, her posture easy, as though she’d stepped into a cooking show. Which, piglet realized with a jolt, is kind of what this was.

“Can you tell the viewers why you’re volunteering to be parted into yummy chops?” Fred asked.

His voice had a rehearsed quality, but the tasty girl smile was genuine.

She looked directly into the lens. “First I would like to thank my mom for the opportunity to serve.” She broke character briefly, waving. “Hi, Mommy.”

A woman’s voice from behind the camera reply: “You’re welcome, pet.”

Piglet’s hand flew to her mouth. The other hand pressed between her legs. That voice—warm and commanding, unmistakable.

Ms. Baker is filming this. She had called her Mommy, the reply pet had been spoken with the same casual authority she used on the farm.

Fred tried to get her refocused.
“And who are you’ my little treat?” Fred asked the fifth grader.

She look up at him with a funny face- as if he hadn’t he known her for months.

My name is —Miss Goat—she beamed.

Piglet Was rubbing a little too hard-stirring ducky.
A slow stretch, a sleepy murmur. Then her eyes focused on the screen.

“There she is,” ducky breathed, her voice still thick with sleep. “Miss Goat.”
“You know her?” Piglet whispered.

“She left the farm some time ago, ducky didn’t keep track of days so she didn’t know how many.
Before you arrived.

She was so happy to go.” ducky propped herself up on one elbow, her collar charm glinting in the screen’s glow.

“Is she a movie star now?”
Piglet had no answer.

Fred cleared his throat, smiling. “You didn’t really answer the question, Miss Goat.”

“Oh!” She laughed, fiddling with the goat charm on her collar.

“I’m doing it for piglet.”

Piglets eyes widened. Her chest tightened. On screen, a girl she didn’t know called out her name.

Miss Goat continued, her tone bright and matter-of-fact.
“She sad and needs help, mommy wants her to stay with us.”

piglet felt like she was a part of this video.

Fred dug deeper not getting a solid answer.

“Is that any reason to be butchered today?”

She smiled at the camera actually looking at Ms. Baker. I want to help!

“Help mommy with what?”Fred prompt some more.

Mommy wanted to have a cookout party for piglet, you know, a welcome party, but we were out of meat for piglet and the guests.

“I see, so that’s why you volunteered?”

“Pretty much!” Miss Goat said, as though being butchered, welcoming others to feast on her was the most natural thing in the world.

Ducky squeezed piglet’s arm. “She did it for you.”

Ducky fixated on the screen, piglet couldn’t look away ether looked alone speak.

On screen, the camera fade black then return with a close-up of miss goat.

She’s a cute little white girl with maybe a trace of Latin. She is lean-like girls in gymnastics and like goats,
She was lacking a pride chest yet carrying a nice solid ass. She spun as instructed revealing a butt plug of her own. She has an upturn goats tail. Kinder spirits, piglet thought touching her own.

Four young eyes what miss goat make cute poses point to delicious parts of her body.

Video fade once more returning back to:
Fred and miss goat stood at a butcher station. The camera followed, its focus steady and unhurried.

“Now that we have our volunteer,” Fred narrated, “it’s time to show an alternate method: first we secure the animal to the bench.”
He patted the thick wooden block. She climbed onto it without assistance, on all fours at first showing off her upturn goat tail.

“Good girl”

Ms Baker’s disembodied voice cause miss goat body to feel warm and fuzzy. Even piglet and ducky respond in like fashion to the trigger word.

Farmer Fred pulls out her plug. She moans like missing a friend- piglet understood deeply.

She is instructed to lay on her back, in which she did, her head resting in a shallow groove designed for necks.

She gazed up at the ceiling with the same serene expression piglet had glimpsed of
Chick-a-Dee’s face as the rotisserie turned.

“Normally,” Fred continued, shifting a peering knife on his belt,

“we’d hang these little goats upside down and slit their throat to drain the blood. A clean bleed improves the meat’s shelf life and color.

He straps his hairless goat down as he continued to talked.
This little goat had made some interesting request for butchering.

She is now spread eagle on the table limbs bound to each corner.

She tilt her head back to smile at the camera. Tugging on her restraints for fun.

Our little goat has requested—” He paused, glancing down at her. “Do you want to tell them?”

Miss goat lifted her head slightly. “I want to be butchered alive. It’s my deepest fantasy.”
Her voice was soft, almost reverent.

Fred nodded. “As you know we can always stop anytime if it gets too painful.”

She nodded yet seem determined to feel it all. She had watch a few butchering. So quick, too impersonal-never getting a chance to fully experience it

“The cleanest cut” he said to the camera. “You want a single, decisive stroke. Hesitation causes unnecessary—” He fumbled for the word.
“Unpleasantness,”

Miss Goat supplied cheerfully. “Right. Unpleasantness.”

Fade to black once more.

The camera angle shifted. Piglet saw it from an overhead perspective

Fred’s steady grip on a peering knife. Piglet held her breath with one hand still between her legs.
The other hand squeeze ducky’s leg.

The blade descended.
Tracing the little goats withering pre-teen body.

Not cutting yet more like a tease. Farmer Fred touch her slit, wet in anticipation.

Zoom in-a close-up of the butcher block, Her body lay stretched and trembling.
“Any request?” He asked playfully dancing the knife over her mound.

My titties please she replied. As small as they were, they would still would make tasty little appetizers.

Fred wet his fingers before pinching her right nipple a tug and a pulled.

He talked of recipes.
Knife focus on the base of her chest.
“Lightly Seasoned and sautéed in butter”

She lift her head to watch her right breast cut clean away. One smooth stroke. It didn’t hurt some much thank you the sharpness of the blade.

There was a stinging yet that came afterwards as air made contacts with the open wound.

He repeated the cut on the other breast. She heave up nearly ruining the cut, her head tilt bake towards the camera. She was having a moment almost ruining the cut.

He set the breast cuts on the tray by his side.

He stuck a finger straight up her tight pussy forcing her legs to get taunt. She wiggled her hips.

He pulled his finger running up her mound- over her belly and to her chest rib.

Preparing her for what comes next.
The blade again. Just below the chest cage. He looked in her eyes, she nodded yes.

Then it happen a straight slice down following cum trail down her midsection- down her belly and to her mound. She trembled, legs shake involuntary. Moaning in pleasure.

Piglet felt… actually she didn’t know what she was feeling. A goat being slaughtered didn’t bring Repulsiveness, this was different.

“As you can see her organs stay intact laid out as she is. Less initial blood loss”

Fred pulled open her cut.

“We can simply pull out what we need when you need to.”

He reached in-little goat grit her teeth. Fred stop momentarily until she cried out not to stop.

He reached in behind her little uterus, grabbing hold of her intestine track at its base- it attach to her anus.

On the outside he cut around her brown starfish asshole separating pucker from her body.

He belted his knife- began pulling her intestines out like pulling a rope. All the while miss goat head turn back and forth. Sounds emigrating from her mouth.

The intestines fed into a bucket, next came her stomach plopping out, attached to the lower esophagus. She felt a tug in her throat. Fred took the knife, cutting the esophagus attach to her stomach. That went into the bucket as well.

Farmer Fred been explaining each step, not for his little goat he is disemboweling-for the viewers whom watch.

He wanted to work fast now. She may ebb away not getting the full treatment. He went for her mound, her meaty filet. “So sweet- nothing tastier in the world.”

With one smooth pace he carved around her mound, slicing between her thighs around her Taint, back up and returning to its starting point. He lift it out still attach to her uterus. That went on a tray.

His little goat is panting hard. Yet still looking satisfied.

He applied a tourniquet straps to her upper arms and a set to her upper thighs. A strap to her neck as well.

“We can cut these limbs into delicious goat chops.”Fingers testing her lean arms.

“A heavy meat cleaver will do quick on those arms , yet the legs will have to be sawed off.”

Miss goat was panting now, deliriously crying yes.

“Thunk”
The loud thunk startled the girls. Like an unexpected jump scare.

Fred removed her arm in one strike. Right below the shoulder.

“Whack”
Another chop removes her hand.

Taking the severed limb to the meat hook over a sink. Fred let it drain as collect the other arm- she was shaking yet still alive.

“Thunk”
This time the whack didn’t startle piglet yet ducky still jumped.

“Whack”
Another arm is now hanging to drain.

Fred checked her eyes. Still alive?-Barely.

He retrieved his trusty hack saw-targeting high on her lean leg, just below the buttocks.

He saw in fast and deliberately. Flesh giving way, slicing quickly, bone offer more resistance yet summits to the blades teeth.

Piglet watched the goats foot roll back and forth. Her foot moving back and forth with the blade_ it moved with the butchers sawing.

Fred hoisted the tender limb to the meathook- hooking it through the ankle and heel. It hung draining with the arms.

Quickening he’s pace, saw he saw her last tender limb.

Faster then the last.
“Sorry folk, I’m speeding the task. She may not be with us much long. He remove the last leg-hooked up and draining.

Her tourniquet has held tight. Less lose of blood.

He once again held his Meat Cleaver

“I hope you enjoy your butchering” Fred said seeing her still alive.

“No need for this” Fred removes the straps as well as her goat collar.

The pet collar had made perfect tan line, a targeted cut line. With hand on her forehead, he pulled back her head back. It offer a clear shot.

“Whack”
It was over for this little goat yet not for Fred.

He need to quarter and break down the rest of her tender meat.

He spoke more casually now. No longer any time restrictions. “Not bad folks, she is going to be a big part at the cookout.”

Her head was place aside- neck ending in a neat but bloodily mess-section. Not too messy by butchers standards.

“Just an anatomical cross-section like a textbook illustration, the vertebrae a pale cameo of bone among dark muscle.”

The camera lingered on the clean presentation—the way a cooking show might display a carved roast.

“Now we portion,” Fred said, his voice warm and instructive.

Piglet leaned forward. She watched him quarter her carcass, became a series of recognizable cuts: shoulder, rack, loin, hind shank.

His blade moved with practiced precision, tracing the seams between muscle groups-peeling back the skin with the neutral efficiency of a man who had done this a hundred times.

The meat is pale and marbled, glistening under the kitchen lights. He stacked the cuts on metal trays—a neat row of chops, a pair of rolled roasts, a tenderloin. Surprisingly to piglet it made her mouth water even as her stomach clenched.

The video ended with a static shot of the displayed meat, glistening on its trays.

The screen went dark. Jenny didn’t move. Her hand had stopped between her legs, fingers resting motionless against her swollen folds.

She felt no arousal now—only a strange, suspended stillness.

Ducky hugged her arm and laid her cheek against piglets shoulder.

“Wasn’t she so nice? To help fill your belly.”

“I never met her,” Piglet said. Her voice came out a dry rasp.

“She sacrificed herself for me, and I never even knew her name.”

“You know it now.” ducky’s fingers traced the pig charm on Jenny’s collar.

“We ate her.” Piglet ponder the statement.

“I’m a ducky I don’t eat meat” sucking reminding her.

“How did she taste” ducky asked.

“she tasted really good”
Jenny closed her eyes. The mutton from the cookout. The delicious chops, the herb butter, the way she’d eaten with her fingers and licked the grease from her knuckles.

Yes. Miss Goat had been delicious.

Piglet rose on unsteady legs and ejected the cassette. The black plastic case clicked shut in her palm like a tiny coffin.

She slid it back onto the top shelf, her fingers trembling, and stared at the remaining cases. A dozen or more. She was too afraid to look at another.

“Are we going to watch more?” Ducky asked, sitting up. “Maybe they have one with an oven.”

Jenny shook her head. The thought of watching another tape made her stomach lurch and her pussy throb in a confused, shameful rhythm she didn’t want to examine at the moment.

Ms. Baker had been in the video. Her voice-She’d called her mommy, and Ms. Baker had called her pet, and the whole thing had seemed almost wholesome—a mother letting her daughter choose her final form, her final purpose.

Miss Goat had been happy. She’d waved at the camera. She’d said Hi, Mom, and her eyes had been bright with love.

A rooster crowed somewhere in the distance, the first thin blade of sound to cut the morning quiet.

Ducky pulled the blanket over her head. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled.

Jenny stood motionless before the shelf of black cassettes, her hand resting on her pig charm, the taste of Miss Goat still lingering somewhere in the pulp of her memory.

She had been a farm animal. She had freely chosen it. That was the a comfort Piglet could find—and she clung to it as the first gray light began to seep beneath the theater door.