Handmaid's Tale 2.0

Warning: This is a very harsh sci-fi story set in Handmaid's Tale 2.0.

It contains fantasy violence in a sci-fi world in the future. None of the behavior depicted here is condoned in real life. All violence is to be abhorred. If the idea of fantasy violence and death bothers you, please do not read this. WARNING

The year was 2545 and society had devolved due to the continuing evolution of mankind. Scientists had warned for years that the "Y" chromosome in mankind was being slowly bred out of humanity. By 2500, the population of males had dropped by nearly fifty percent. Females now outnumbered males by a two to one majority.

Scientists now predict that if something drastic is not started immediately, the entire species would be endangered within another 150 years.

By 2600, the split was 75/25 and humanity was freaking out. The scientists had been unable to restore the balance in chromosomes and were predicting without VERY drastic measures, humanity would die out in another 100 years. Women were resorting to paying men to have sex with them. Most men could count of having at least four females that would fuck them and pay them for the privilege.

The world central government, the World Union, met and decided on several measures. They established the Department of Female Management, or DFM that would be responsible for half of the world's population moving forward. They established a lottery system whereby every female born would be entered. When a female was born, it had a number tattooed on it and the number was entered into the lottery. One out of a 100 female babies would be left for breeding. The other ninety-nine would be sterilized. Each new female would have a number tattooed in their inner lip when they were old enough.

The fertile females would be raised by the government and used specifically for the continuation of the species. The balance of the females would be raised by their parents until the age of 18.

At the age of 18 the steriles (as they are called) were allowed to be hunted during a short season. It became a cruel, sexual game for many men in the country. The government had to finally step in and require a license to hunt steriles. The licenses were very hard to obtain. The DFM made rules on how you could treat steriles. There were quickly too many steriles for even the most aggressive legal hunters to kill. Faced with far too many steriles, the DFM finally gave in and allowed their bodies to be used for meat. Neither the steriles or breeders had a need for hair on their heads. It would mat, and since the steriles weren't washed, it became a problem. The problem was solved by shaving each one at eighteen and treating them to make it permanent. The only ones not subjected to this was the sex models. They would be trained to clean themselves and take care of their bodies.

Millionaires quickly began collecting herds and processing them like cattle. A few large ranches found it more profitable to create preserves that housed hundreds of steriles. They gave them a grain-based mush that sustained them, and drugs were put in it to make them fatter.

To stop an uncontrollable riot, the DFM finally had to devise a method where the steriles had a way to survive. The DFM developed federal parks where steriles could live in safety. They were also trained in the maintenance jobs needed to maintain the parks and the Federal buildings. They wore a special uniform that was protected from hunting or sexual conquest. There were soon thousands of the domestics around the world doing the cleaning and cooking for the government agencies. The agencies were required to house, clean, and maintain their health.

Once again in human history, the females were made to pay for humanities' survival, through no fault of their own. Of course, it wasn't the male's fault either, but governments always seem to make the women pay, whether it's religion or politics, the women pay the price. The only concession made was to allow the "entertainment" models to keep their hair and continue to be educated a little and taught speech.

Over the years, a balance slowly developed where enough steriles survived to stop the riots and maintain the new civilization.

Because of the emotional burden of seeing their daughters either killed or taken as baby mothers, parents quit having children. It finally got to the point that the DFM had to try inseminating the "fertiles" in controlled environments. They began to be called "breeders" instead of "fertiles.". Marriage went away. No man needed to "marry" a female when he could just buy one, or two, or as many as he wanted. Even then, the men didn't want breeders. Why take the time to birth a female. A male was worth a lot of money to the government, but any female born went right to the state. Maternity wards disappeared.

After years of barely having enough children to maintain the civilization, they finally figured out it would be better to pay the millionaires that already had large herds of steriles to add breeders to their ranches. When it comes to profit, people will find a way to do anything more efficiently.

The ranchers began feeding the breeders hormones that would make larger babies, with a higher percentage of males. They had been feeding the steriles feed that fattened them up for slaughter. Within a few years, the steriles on the ranches grew to an average of over two hundred pounds. They were given drugs that caused their asses to grow more meat, and the stomachs put pounds on behind the fat in the front. They were required to keep the breeders cleaner than the steriles. That was so the babies didn't get sick.

Because of the time it took to wait until they were eighteen, the DFM had to take the babies and put them in nurseries. They would pay large ranchers to raise them and decide what to do with them when they reached eighteen. Some went to the DFM work program, some went into the parks to maintain the population, the best looking went to the sex model program, and the rest were sold off to pay for the cost.

This was the one thing the DFM insisted on. They may destroy the fabric of womanhood, but they would not allow children to be mistreated. Again, it had nothing to do with morality, but the understanding even the men MIGHT object, and the sex models might revolt if something obscene started happening to the children, no matter what would eventually happen to them. You could eat them when they were eighteen, but not seventeen. This was the dystopian world they all lived in now.

After forty years, all the females were either breeders or steriles. For the next few years, the old females were all that remained of an extinct way of life. Families disappeared, replaced by men that had a harem of steriles each.

Bob had a good job with the government. He worked at one of the parks that allowed hunting one weekend a year. His job was to run the hunt and make sure the men followed the rules.

The rules are:

Each hunter is allowed two steriles. They have the choice of capturing a sterile or taking them for trophy or meat.

If you kill a sterile, you may not sexually attack it. Each carcass will be inspected by the park to ensure there wasn't any violence being done to the carcass.

If a trophy is desired, the hunter will fill out a form detailing what they want as a trophy. It ranges from just the head mounted to the upper torso mounted. They also provide a completely stuffed trophy. It was very expensive, but it was done. There are many trophies standing in rich men's den.

Bob was very busy getting ready for the upcoming hunt. He led a simple life. He only owned two steriles, and he treated them very well. Neither had any desire to run away. The concept of freedom had been bred out of them. It never occurred to them to leave.

Brad Turner was a rich rancher owner. He had over a thousand steriles he was raising, and over 500 breeders. He would walk his ranch each day to ensure none of his workers were abusing his property. Because of the shortage of male workers, Brad had older women working there. They were sterile but were protected by the need for workers. Most of the workers were these older women, and Brad found them to be meaner and harder on these poor females.

Number 14523 was an old female that worked the breeders in the large barn. Brad had an older man that ran the breeder barns and 14523 was his assistant.

Brad went into the insemination building to find 14523 herding twenty breeders into a large room. The breeders ranged from 18 to 35. After 35, they were monitored to make sure they produced a calf every year. If they missed two years in a row, they were shipped off to the slaughterhouse.

Brad watched as 14523 put each breeder into a breeding station. She would be bent over a barrel. If this was their first breeding, their hands and feet would be tied to posts. If they were used to this, they would just stand still and allow the breeding process to happen. 14523 brought the insemination hose down from above and pushed it into the breeder's vagina. She put no lube to make it hurt less. She just shoved it in and moved on to the next one. The new breeders would scream and struggle against the violation. If they fought too hard, 14523 would whip them on their ass until they stood still. When all 20 were connected, 14523 turned the machine on and the fluid would be pushed into the vagina of each. Once they were filled, the hose stayed inside the fertile until a designated time passed. Once 14523 was satisfied they had been bred properly, she released them to a different pen and went back for more.

Each breeder wore a monitor that told them when they were "in heat" or ready to be fertilized. 14523 went through the herd, searching for the breeders whose monitors were beeping. She would separate them out of the rest of the herd and take them to the insemination room.

Brad nodded and went on. The next room was the feeding room. A large group of steriles were preparing the mush necessary to feed the 1,000 steriles twice a day. Most steriles were fed in the pasture by tractors that pulled feeding wagons. When the steriles in each field saw the wagon coming, they would follow it to the trough.

The next room he entered was the feeding room for babies. The babies must stay with the mother until they can be weaned and can eat the mush. Any male was removed immediately after weaning, but the females were separated by sterile or breeder. Once weaning, the ranchers that were raising the little ones would come and get them. The first rancher was paid by the government for delivery to the other rancher.

Whenever Brad wanted to send a truckload of steriles to the market, he and a couple of his men would go through the herds and select the fattest steriles, and sperate them to a special pen. Once they had enough for a shipment, they backed the truck up and drove them into the truck.

Brad would walk his fields, looking for steriles that were pretty and fit. He would take a couple to his home and keep them until he tired of them. When it was time, he would give them to one of his workers or send them to market. He always had a couple at his home.

This was Brad's life. It is all he has known. His father had run this ranch, and he had been born there to one of the breeders. His father had kept fucking the breeders until he got a male. No one had mothers any longer, they only had a birth breeder.

Bob gathered his park rangers. They would discuss the upcoming hunt. They had nearly 1,000 steriles running wild in the park. They had buildings throughout the park that they could get out of the cold or rain. The rangers brought the mush to each building each day. The steriles were brought inside during the winter months into large barns that were heated and had stalls with straw for a group of twenty. The rangers only had to put them into a stall once. After that, the steriles would stay in their own group.

This condition in their civilization had been going on for nearly 100 years. Most of the steriles didn't speak any longer. There was no one for them to speak to. One hundred years had reduced them to what the government wanted, sheep.

Some of the steriles in the park stayed near the buildings of the managers. They were tame and would look for handouts from the workers. There were good buildings there they could stay in and not roam in the park.

There were more steriles that wanted nothing to do with the rangers and never came near the front of the park. They stayed away from the males and lived in the wild. Bob figured there were at least a hundred of them he had never seen since they were released into the park. They would come to the feed buildings when no men were around.

Bob had no idea how wild steriles survived the winter. They were naked, after all. No breeder or sterile had worn clothing for over one hundred years.

The limit this year was one hundred steriles this year. Each year, the government decided how many steriles could be killed in each park. This year, they had a limit of 100.

They also had a limit of fifty hunters. They learned through bitter experience that you needed at least twice the steriles than hunters. There were too many arguments over who shot the trophy. The system was developed whereby the hunter was to attach a tag with his number on it into the ear of the kill. If the ear was cut off by another hunter and a new tag was put in its place, that hunter would be banned from the park. Each hunter knew there were rangers in every area of the park, watching.

Watson was a fifty-year-old who delt in service steriles. His business was in a large city, and he had a license to sell steriles for individuals. Steriles came in two models, service and sex. The service models would clean, cook and take care of the home. They were declitted to reduce any unwanted stimulation. The sex models were obvious. The government would take the prettiest when they turned 18 and sent them to a school to learn the secrets of seduction and the male anatomy. They were also the only steriles over the years that were still taught how to speak. They were schooled in entertaining their masters. The service models were taught the needed skills of domestication.

Watson would buy both models from a supplier with a government license as a supplier. Watson would go and pick his stock out personally at an auction.

On this day he was looking for five new models, three sex and two domestic. He would take almost any domestic. His clients usually didn't care what they looked like, just that they could do the job. He had a few men that wanted pretty maids, but it wasn't often.

The harder part was finding the pretty sex models. The prettier they were, the more expensive they were.

There were five other bidders on this day. They were bidding on thirty models, twenty domestics and ten entertainers. Before they had to bid, they were allowed to inspect them. They could touch them, check them out, but the auctioneers were careful about what they allowed.

Watson spent most of his inspection time with the entertainers. He checked their teeth, the firmness of their ass and breasts. He asked each questions. He wanted to hear their voice. The domestics appearances weren't that important. He would take any of the cheap ones left over. Sometimes, when the market wasn't strong, he could get a discount.

The auctioneer started the auction. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. The first entertainment model is a white, twenty-one-year-old. It has a soft voice and is trained in all manor of pleasing your clients. We will start the bidding at 1000 credits. Do I hear 1000?"

The bidding went on until it went for 2500. Watson wasn't interested in this one. It's breasts were too small and it's ass was too soft.

"Next, we have an 18-year-old black that is fresh from it's training. You will be able to teach it whatever you wish from our sex packages. Do I hear 2000?"

Watson wanted this one. "3000."

"3500"

Watson increased his bid. "5000"

That only left one other bidder who was willing to pay that price for a young one. "5500"

Watson wasn't going away. "6000"

That was it. He got the black young one for 6000.

He let the twenty-five-year-old Asian go by. He would need at least one white, and he was willing to pay for it. He had one client who wanted a new model, and Watson wondered why this one was so old. There must be a reason it hadn't been sold yet. When no one bid on it, he decided to take a flyer and bid 1000. He got the Asian.

He still needed a white. The next two didn't interest him, but the last one did. Twenty-one with a great figure and a sweet voice. This is the one he needs.

The bidding went crazy, but he continued until he paid 10,000. His client may not pay that much, but it was worth it to satisfy one of his biggest clients.

The domestics were easy. He got four for 4000.

His driver was in the back with his truck. Watson paid for his new models, put a leash on each and herded them into his truck. Seven barely fit, but he didn't have far to go.

When he got to his barn, one of his men unloaded them and put them in a large pen. They milled around quietly, waiting to be processed.

One by one, they were led into his processing room. He carefully inspected each one's body, making sure there were no hidden flaws. One of the domestics had a limp. He may have to try and sell it off. If he couldn't, he may have to have it destroyed. He wasn't taking care of it longer than necessary.

The last thing he did was tattoo their inner lip with his license number. That would register them with the government. The buyer would add his three number code after Watson's number.

He was ready and he called his client. Buddy worked for the government in a minor capacity, but Watson still wanted to keep him happy. When he got there and saw the blonde white, he was very happy. He was less happy with the price, but Watson gave it to him for his cost and Buddy accepted. Watson added his number to the inner lip, put his collar on its neck, handed Bubby the leash and he walked out the front door with his new sex model. Watson had bought several of Buddy's old models. They were mostly worn out, but there was one Watson had kept. He had her at his home and was trying to get her to recover from Buddy's "enthusiasm".

When he got home, he found his domestic cleaning the kitchen. She had left him a dinner. Watson went to find his recent purchase. She was in his bed. She had a leash on her, but she had room to get to the bathroom. When he came in, she looked up, afraid. Watson hadn't been able yet to convince her he wouldn't hurt her. She had bruises and Watson hadn't touched her yet. He didn't want fear in his house. He never beat any of them. They would learn to do as he asked without the threat of violence. She wasn't there yet, hence the leash.

He sat on the edge of the bed and gave her a bite of his dinner. She hesitated but finally took it. She was very hungry. He gave her the entire meal and she hungrily ate it all.

He sat and waited for her to settle down. He put his hand out and she recoiled. He didn't try to touch her; he just held his hand out. She finally reached out and touched his hand. He didn't move, but he did smile. He went to his couch and just watched her. She ultimately fell asleep. He fell asleep on his couch. He was confident he would gain her confidence, and he would make her life better. He liked having models that weren't afraid for their lives.

The next morning, he got dressed and went to his office. He had new models to sell. He tattooed all six of the ones left. The Asian was a spitfire. Now he knew why she was this old and still not sold. He was pretty sure she had been sold several times, only to be returned when she attacked her new owners. It took a couple of his men and a knife at her throat for her to allow him to tattoo her. All six were now very sore, and he put them in a pen in the barn with straw in it. He told his men to feed them and take care of them until their lips healed.

It took a month for their tattoo to heal. During that time, he was able to sell the four domestics and the black entertainer. All he had left was the Asian, and he had no idea what to do with her. He couldn't sell her in his showroom, not if she would harm any of his customers. He finally decided to try the same as at home. He brought her better food, but she would have to take it out of his hand. She wouldn't for a couple of days, until she was so hungry her hunger overcame her anger. He held it out, and she finally took it out of his hand. She ate it quickly. He continued holding the rest of the food out and she continued taking it until she had eaten all of it. He smiled at her and tried to take her for a walk around the barnyard. She fought him, and he let her. She would stop, and he would just wait until she took a step. Then he would move one step forward. It took them an hour to make one small round in the yard. He finally took her back to her pen and took the leash off her.

She watched him as he went back to his office.

He thought that it had been a good first day. Over the next month, he continued to try and win her over. He never forced her but let her decide when she would co-operate. By the end of the month, she would walk quietly behind him on her leash without pulling or stopping. She eventually would go for a walk with him without the leash. When she finally allowed him to pet her without trying to bite him, he knew she would accept him as her master, and he would protect her.

She allowed his next step. One day, he brought a soft brush and began brushing her all over her body. She stood still while he brushed her back, down her legs, and even allowed him to brush her breasts and stomach. She was trying to look angry, but it wasn't working, and Watson knew he had her. When he finished, she kissed his hand, and he kissed her hand.

When he stopped at his office while taking her back to her pen, she lay down beside his desk and looked up at him. The look told him she was content to be with him now. He patted her on the head, and she curled up in a ball and went to sleep. That night, he took her home and put her with the other model. By then, the other one had healed and was eating out of his hand, and allowing him to touch her, rub her, whatever he wanted to do. She even tried to fuck him the first night he had slept in his own bed with her there. She spoke for the first time. "Master, please fuck me. Please, I have a fever for it."

He kissed her and quetched her fire for the first time. By the time the Asian arrived, this one was a constant in his bed. When the Asian saw her, she reached for his dick and spoke for the first time. "Please, master, fuck me too. Please."

That night was the first of many. If he fucked one, he had to fuck the other. It's a burden, but someone's gotta do it.

The day for the hunt was fast approaching. He had the list of the fifty hunters with a permit to kill two steriles. Their park was over 100 acres, and each would have a four-wheeler with room on the back to strap a trophy onto it. The hunter would punch his tag into the ear, strap the body over the back, and either keep hunting, or take his trophy to the nearest ranger station.

There were only a couple of hunters that he knew might be a problem. They are known by their actions in another park where they had been banned for five years. The ban was lifted, but they weren't allowed at that park. They were allowed to come to Bob's park, but Bob had been warned.

Bob liked to ride his four-wheeler through the park and look for steriles. They were good at hiding. The park had high fences that kept the other wild animals out and the steriles in.

Amy was a sterile that had been birthed at Brad's ranch. She had a number, but wanted a name, and thought of herself as "Amy". She had then been sent to the sex model training. During the training, one of the instructors tried to violate the rule against touching the merchandise and Amy had bit him. He hit her so hard he broke her jaw. Rather than admit what he had done, he included her in a shipment to Bob's park as a wild sterile. He didn't have time to cut her hair. He figured she wouldn't be able to talk with a broken jaw, and she'd die there.

It was spring when she arrived at the park, and she had difficulty surviving the first three months. Food was hard to eat, and she lost weight. She eventually figured out how to eat and stayed out in the wild away from the rangers. Winter would be here in a few months, and she figured she would have to try and talk to one of the rangers to try and make them believe she was not a wild sterile.

The day of the hunt arrived. The steriles had no idea what was about to happen, but Amy was watching from a hillside overlooking the headquarters where the hunters were gathering. She had not seen this before, but she just knew this wasn't good, and headed deeper into the park. She had one hiding place that she liked, and she headed there. The thing that bothered her the most was the sight of hunting dogs. She had seen enough guard dogs at the training facility to know what they were capable of. She knew they would track down all of them, given enough time.

She had no idea how long they would hunt them, but if it lasted more than a couple of days, they would all be killed.

Bob lined the hunters up to speak to them. "You know the rules. You are not allowed to use high-powered sniper rifles. You must use regular hunting guns. Your limit will be two steriles. I will have a ranger with each of you, watching you obey the rules. Violations of our rules can be very serious. (Bob didn't tell any of them, but he had his own rule. If any of them went on a killing spree, and killed more than two, Bob would just bury him in the woods. Hunters have been known to get caught by "bears" every now and then and they could again.)

You are allowed to catch them if you choose to not kill them. If you can get them back to the base, they are yours to keep. Once you kill one, you will put your tag in their ear, strap them to your four-wheeler, or give them to the ranger to keep for you. You may hunt until 5 P. M. today and go back out at 6 A. M. tomorrow if you don't have your limit yet. Tomorrow night, there will be a BBQ celebrating another successful thinning of the herd."

Bob fired his gun into the air, and the hunters with their dogs were off.

Reginald Thurston was a rich man that had hunted big game all over the world. But nothing gave him a thrill like hunting these steriles. Pretty women that he could kill, it gave him a hard-on just thinking about it. He had enough "pets" at home. He wanted girl meat he had killed to serve at one of his famous BBQ's on his ranch.

It didn't take long for Bud, his dog, to find a scent. A few minutes later, he found Bud had cornered a young black-haired sterile against a tree. He didn't even need his rifle. He took out his handgun and shot her in the throat. She dropped and gurgled until she was still. He went over, lifted her head and looked her over. Not much meat. Maybe he would make her a trophy. Depends on what else he gets. He took the punch out and put his tag in her ear, drug her over to the four-wheeler by her leg, and threw her over the back. He strapped her down and sent the dog hunting again. This wasn't going to take very long.

That sterile had been a newbie. She had only been there for a few months. Most of the older ones had survived several hunts and knew when they came. A thousand steriles, and only 100 could be killed. If they could stay out of sight for two days, they would be safe for another year.

Amy heard the gunfire and knew the hunt was on. Even though she had only been there a few months and had stayed away from the headquarters building waiting for her jaw to heal, she knew she would have to outrun the dogs.

She went to her favorite drinking stream and walked down the center of it, even when it got deep. She knew of a place where a strong branch hung over the stream. She had jumped into the stream from it a few times and enjoyed the cold water. Now, she was going to use the branch to try and get away from the dogs. She had found a few strawberries growing wild and she had smeared them over her body. She saved some of them in her hand and started walking down the center of the stream. When she got to the large branch, she threw the strawberries onto the bank on the other side of the steam, pulled herself up on the branch, and climbed into the thickest part of the large tree. She would stay there as long as she could.

Bud came walking down the other side of the stream until he found the crushed strawberries on the bank. He started barking and continued until Reginald arrived. "What's ya got, Bud?" He picked up the strawberries and looked around. "Looks like one of them had eaten some strawberries here by the stream. Probably got a drink before moving on. You smell any steriles, Bud?"

Bud sniffed around for a couple of minutes before continuing down the other bank. Amy waited until she couldn't hear the dog's barking any longer before she let out her breath. She had survived her first challenge.

The ranger that was following Reginald had a good idea where the sterile was. He knew they liked hiding in that tree. He was happy she had dodged this asshole. He heard more gunshots up ahead and hurried to find Reginald standing over a young blonde with a hole in her chest. Reginald was just putting her ear tag on when the ranger showed up. The ranger took his picture with his trophy on his phone and put the carcass on his four-wheeler. Reginald was finished quickly.

He was disappointed his hunt was over already. All the way back to the front, he was wondering how he could hunt some more. By the time they arrived at the headquarters, and registered his kills, he had an idea. He gave the ranger his guns, and asked if he could go and watch the others hunt. It was too early for him to just sit here for the rest of the day. The ranger took his guns and allowed him to go back into the woods. What Reginald didn't know was that the ranger put out a notice to all the other rangers that this asshole was coming back into the woods without a gun, but to watch out for him because he was sure the man would try to use someone else's gun.

Wally had never done anything like this before. He had a "pet" at home, but he wanted to see steriles in the wild. He wasn't even sure he'd kill one if he stumbled onto it. Bob was the ranger who followed after Wally because Bob was concerned he'd get himself hurt, or he would shoot one of the other hunters by accident. Bob spent most of the day watching this man stumble around the woods.

Steve hunted here last year and got one. This year, he wanted to get his limit. He didn't have a hunting dog, so he knew he'd have to be lucky to find even one, but he enjoyed the outdoors, and it would be okay if he didn't get one.

Steve saw another hunter in front of him just as the hunter brought down a brunette with a big rack. By the time Steve reached the hunter and his ranger, the hunter had tagged his kill and was inspecting her. A little older, but the breasts would be a great meal, and she had an ass that had some meat on it. Her thighs would make a great roast over a fire.

Steve congratulated the hunter and watched them load the carcass on the back of the ranger's wheeler. Just as the hunter was about to leave, he stopped. In the clearing ahead, one hundred yards out, stood a blonde. She was peeing beside a tree. He hit Steve on his shoulder and pointed to her. Steve got really excited. He was shaking when he pulled his gun down. The ranger came over and helped him get the gun ready and told him to take a deep breath. Steve took a couple of deep breaths and tried to remember his training. He had taken shooting lessons when he knew he had won the lottery. He had the scope that came on his hunting rifle, but he didn't know how accurate it was from this distance. He fired while she was squatting down, peeing. He missed her, but in her confusion, she started running toward them instead of away from them. This time, he hit her in the chest and spun her around. She was still moving by the time they got to her and the ranger handed Steve his revolver and told him to finish her and put her out of her misery. He shot her in the forehead, and she lay still.

Steve had a kill. He took one of his two tags out and punched it onto her ear. The hunter picked up one of her legs and spread her out on the ground. "A young one. Good shot, Steve. You'll have enough meat from her."

By noon, twenty-five kills had been turned in at the front. When the horn sounded at five, there had been forty-five kills. They were lined up on the concrete outside the building. Each had a tag in one ear, and a bullet hole or two in them.

The crew were hanging them up by their feet and taking pictures of the hunter beside his trophy. Next, they wrote on each carcass what was to be done with them. If the hunter wanted a trophy, it would be taken to the taxidermy shop. If they wanted part of the body as a trophy, that part was cut off and joined the trophy truck. The ones that would be meat were thrown into a larger truck and sent to their butcher shop to be cut up and packaged for the hunter.

Amy survived the day. When the horn sounded, she waited another 30 minutes before she came down. She got a drink and headed to her shelter. She will come back tomorrow. She had left down the middle of the stream and would return the same way in the morning. She ate a few berries on the way to survive another day.

The next morning, the hunt continued. The men that had both their trophies were not allowed back in the woods. That included Reginald. He was angry, but knew he'd have a real problem with these people if he crossed them. He knew some hunters had "disappeared" in the woods, and he figured they had been dealt with like he would have done, so he decided to enjoy the day.

Steve found the hunter that had helped him the day before. The sterile he had gotten when Steve was there was the only one had so far. He told Steve to come with him because Steve was "good luck." Steve agreed for the same reason, and they were off.

On this day, they drove deeper into the woods. When they got near the back fence, they noticed there weren't any hunters around. The hunter decided to lie down on the top of a grassy knoll and see what he could see. The two of them waited for several hours.

An older sterile that had survived several hunts had her shelter here. She hadn't been near a man in a long time. She didn't spend much time with the other steriles. She was a loner. Unfortunately for her, the place of her shelter was right below the grassy knoll. The hunter saw her as soon as she crawled out of her hole. She was only fifty yards away. Either of them could get her, and the hunter told Steve to take the first shot. Just as the sterile stood up, Steve put one through her heart. She never knew what hit her and was dead before she hit the ground.

Before they could stand up, they saw another sterile come running out of the other side of the woods. She was running diagonally across the field. She was fast, but she couldn't outrun a bullet, and the hunter dropped her with one shot before she reached the other side of the woods. They had their trophies.

They stopped at Steve's kill first. The hunter rolled her over to see the bullet hole through her breast. She was older, she was dirty, but Steve didn't care. She would be tough to eat, but he didn't want to eat her. He decided to stuff his first kill and sell this one at the market the next day. They had a market where the hunters could sell their kills if they didn't want to take them home. The sale would draw more men than the hunt. You didn't need a lottery ticket to come to the market.

They then went to the hunters kill. They rolled her over to find the bullet had hit her in the side of the head. There would be no trophy head with this one. He figured it would be meat. They tagged their kills, and the ranger put one on his wheeler, and the other on the hunter's wheeler. They had finished the hunt.

Barry was here to observe. He had brought a gun and would take one if he stumbled over one. He spent most of the day watching the other hunters as they had gotten their limits. He didn't really care about the killing, and he didn't like eating the meat.

He had been talking to his ranger until he saw something ahead. He ran up to a large tree only to run into a sterile running away. He knocked it down and it hit her head and lay still. The ranger came up and checked her, she was still alive. "Barry, you have the choice of keeping this one alive. She will be wild, and you will have to break her in, but she would be yours to keep. What do you want to do with her? You can just kill her for her head, or her torso if you want to put her on your wall. She looks pretty enough to mount."

Barry had a choice. He didn't want a woman's head on his wall, and the idea of her chest and head hanging over his fireplace seemed a little presumptuous to him. He also didn't want to fight this wild cat, trying to tame her; but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of trying to break this bronco. He had a domestic and a sex model, so he could use her as entertainment as he tried to break her. "I'll take her alive. How do we do it?"

The ranger smiled and went to the back of his wheeler. He brought out a pair of binders and bound her arms behind her back. He then strapped her legs together and tied her feet together. She would barely be able to move. He then put a gag into her mouth so she wouldn't be able to bite them. He put a hood over her head so she would not see what was happening to her. Lastly, he picked her up and secured her tightly to the back of his wheeler.

Barry stood and ran his hand over her body. By the time they were ready to go, she was awake and trying to struggle. Barry told the ranger his hunt was over. He was thinking about his little shed in his backyard, and how he could turn it into a place he could try and break her. This could be fun. More fun than just killing a defenseless animal.

Amy was back in her tree by the time the horn went off. She figured this would be the last day. She hoped it would. She knew her luck would eventually run out if this went on for too long.

For most of the day, she saw no hunter. She saw a couple of steriles walking quietly by the tree.

Bob was wandering around the woods. They were almost finished. By noon, there had been eighty kills. When they reach 100, the horn will sound, and everyone must stop. Bob had followed Wally and was there when he got his trophy. Bob helped him tag it and put it on his wheeler. Bob stayed with him for a while.

They came across a stream and decided to drive beside it for as long as they could. They stopped by a large tree that overhung the stream. Wally saw a sterile on the other side of the stream and fired at her twice, hitting her once. She was limping away and Bob told him to go and finish her. After Wally went running after his trophy, he heard a rustling above him. Just then, a sterile fell out of the tree right at his feet. She looked up, terrified and frozen. Bob was about to tell her to run when she spoke to him. He was shocked. None of the steriles could speak or had hair. Who the hell was this?

"Please mister, help me. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm a sex model that was sent here because one of the instructors did this to me." She pointed to her face. He could see her mouth was crooked.

Bob heard Wally returning. "Lay down dead. I will try to get you out of here, but you must play dead until I can. Do you understand?"

She nodded and fell down "dead".

Wally returned to find a ranger with a dead sterile laying at his feet. Bob had a story. "She fell out of the tree. I think she broke her neck when she fell. Look at her. She broke her jaw also. I will take her back and fill out an accidental death report on her." Wally shrugged and went back to his trophy. Bob strapped her to his wheeler and the two of them headed home.

The horn sounded just as they arrived at headquarters. The hunt was over for another year. Bob told a couple of his men not to worry about the sterile on his wheeler. They were busy enough with the fifty-four other bodies lying on the concrete.

Bob drove around to the side of the building. He threw Amy over his shoulder and carried her into one of the processing rooms. When he was alone with her, he had her tell him her entire story. After hearing it, Bob decided to take her home until he could figure out what to do.

He put her on the table. "Amy, here is the only way out of this. That other hunter knows about you. You must stay dead until late tonight. I will fill out the paperwork saying I found you dead from a broken neck when you fell out of the tree. I must have a witness come in here to confirm my story. He may touch you. You will have to play dead. Can you do that?"

She nodded, and he went for his best friend in the company.

Terry had known Bob for twenty years. They were best friends and traveled together. They had even shared a sterile or two during their years together. When Terry came into the room after Bob had explained what he found, Terry stood beside the "dead' woman, looking at her. He turned her head to look at her face. She had hair. "Why hair? She must have broken her jaw when she fell also. I'll write the report for you. Give me her number."

Bob pulled her lip back and read off her number. "I don't know why she still had her hair. Probably another DFM screw-up."

Terry nodded and left, and Bob told her to stay quiet. He threw her over his shoulder, carried her to his vehicle, put her in the trunk and went back to the BBQ.

Amy felt safe in the darkness of the trunk. She didn't care how long she was there. She had a feeling this man would protect her. She was happy she had the ability to repay him for his kindness. She would gladly allow this man to enjoy her for as long as he wanted. She fell asleep and slept well for the first time in a long time.

The BBQ lasted for hours. They had put four of the roasters into a pit in the ground and BBQ'd them during the afternoon. By the time came for the dinner, they were tender and tasty. Bob made sure the alcohol flowed, and by midnight, everyone was feeling no pain.

When he got home, he pulled into the garage and closed the door.

He helped her out of the trunk. She collapsed in his arms, and he carried her into the living room.

He put her in his bed and went to the living room. In the morning, he found her awake, but still in the bed. "Sir, I don't know why you did this for me, but I will forever be grateful."

"I just thought you deserved a break, considering all the bad that has happened to you."

She looked down. "What happens now?"

He smiled. "You're dead. Your number has been turned in as dead. No one will ever come looking for you."

"You mean I can stay here?"

"That would be okay with me."

She smiled. "I see only an older sex model here. I would be happy to be your sex model. I will give you whatever you wish. I didn't finish my training before I was sent away, but I learned enough to make you very happy."

Bob had considered this since he'd heard her speak. He had one for a few years, but she was getting older. New ones were expensive, and a ranger's salary didn't go very far. He knew he could retire the old one and let her live out her days as his pet. A free fresh one would be wonderful. "I'll take you up on your offer."

She jumped out of bed and jumped into his arms. She put her legs around his waist and kissed him hard. He stood there with a sex sterile in his arms that he could do whatever he wanted with. The first thing she needed was a bath. She smelled like a wild animal. As he held her in his arms, he knew she was anything but a wild animal.

Life is strange and has many cruel twists, but it is the only one anyone has.