Betty gets tagged [F] - Is a favorite

Submission Date: 2018-07-01By: yeltudet

[Clitoredectomy] [Lesbian] [Unclassified]flag - Fiction

This is my first attempt at writing erotic fiction. Constructive feedback is

welcome.

This writing is inspired by Janice is Tagged by Macrow.

Betty had been in a fog since receiving the notice two weeks ago. As she walked
towards the address on the notice, she ran through the argument she had mentally
had with herself at least a thousand times. She should run away. But, Betty knew,
they always found you. And what they did to runners made what she was about to go
through seem like a walk in the park. She was resolved to her fate as she pushed
open the door to the Walton Processing center. In the past, this was a medical
center that specialized in outpatient surgery. Now, no one goes here to be healed.

The inside looked exactly like a typical doctor’s office waiting room. There was
the collection of uncomfortable looking sofas and chairs. On the outdated end
tables, there was the collection of out of date magazines. And, of course, there
was the sliding glass window with a receptionist typing away at her computer. The
receptionist looked up and smiled as Betty walked up to the window. In a too
cheerful voice the receptionist greeted, “Welcome to the Walton Processing center.
Do you have your notice and a photo ID?” Betty handed the notice to the
receptionist then pulled her wallet out of her purse and showed the receptionist
her driver’s license in the see through compartment on the side. “I’ll need you to
remove it so I can make a copy for the file,” said the receptionist. Betty opened
her wallet, removed her license, and handed it to the receptionist all the while
thinking how silly this was. No one would ever pretend to be someone with a
notice. The receptionist held the barcode on the notice under a scanner until
there was a beep from the computer. She then took the license from Betty and
checked it against the information on the computer screen. The receptionist placed
the license in a business card reader and clicked a button. Once the scanner had
finished, the receptionist gave Betty back her license. She handed Betty a page
that had just printed and a trifold pamphlet. “Please have a seat until you are
called,” chimed the receptionist who promptly returned to her typing.

As Betty scanned the room to find a place to sit, she noticed that the six women
already sitting seemed to be sitting as far away from each other as was possible in
this small room. Betty continued that pattern, finding an isolated chair off to
one side. As she sat there wondering how long she would have to wait before being
called, she glanced at the pamphlet the receptionist had given her. Covering most
of the front page was a picture of a smiling young family. An attractive wife, a
handsome husband, and two cute kids. One boy, one girl. And emblazoned across the
top in gold letters were the words “Proposition 742 and You…” Betty thought to
herself, “Only the government could make 742 sound like a good thing.”

Proposition 742 was the law passed about 15 years ago that created the Department
of Population Control. It was thought that the DPC would institute mandatory birth
control with pregnancy licensing or create rules limiting the number of children
that each family could have. However, the law’s wording was vague and left lots of
wiggle room. When a strange virus decimated the world’s population of cows and
pigs in the first year after 742 became law, some opportunistic people saw a chance
to solve two problems with one solution. Thus, the National Livestock Lottery was
created. At first, there was resistance to the Lottery. However, an early Supreme
Court ruling set the tone. In that ruling, people were deemed to instantly be
livestock, not humans, upon selection by the lottery. As such, their rights had to
be taken in context of those that livestock possessed. The ruling went on to state
that since livestock were property, in this case of the DPC, “cruel and unusual”
was considered in terms of norms of treatment of livestock. And everyone knew how
badly livestock were treated. Emboldened by this ruling, the DPC began introducing
humiliating requirements on Lottery winners. It started with requiring the
winners to report two weeks before being processed for “grading”. Nude pictures of
the Livestock with their grade would be posted on the department’s website. Soon
the regional directors of the DPC started trying to outdo each other. The
director of the Texas Region, a cattleman before losing his livelihood to the
virus, stated that livestock did not have names. They were numbered. That region
started referring to lottery winners by a system-generated number. Another
director expanded on that idea when she realized that livestock previously had ear
tags with their number on it. However, ear tags were deemed impractical. After
experimenting with various locations, genital tags became the standard. When the
director of the Midwestern region discovered his wife was having an affair, he
arranged for his wife and her lover to win the Lottery. Wanting to inflict the
maximum humiliation, he introduced penectomies and clitorectomies for all livestock
during the grading and tagging process. This same director introduced live
viewings. For some reason, women were especially eager to see more clitorectomies.
Demand was so high for viewings that soon he started selling tickets. Seeing a way
to pad their budgets, the other regions very quickly followed his lead.

For the first two years, men and women were selected as winners of the Lottery in
equal numbers. However, once viewings and the money collected from them started
rolling in, the directors noticed that the viewings of women being graded and
tagged almost always sold out. Whereas the viewings of the men sold only a few
tickets. So, in a closed door meeting, the directors all agreed to alter the
selection algorithm to increase the ratio of women to men selected. The reasoning
given by the committee was that women had babies and having fewer women would
naturally reduce the number of babies born, thus reducing the population. The
committee met once a quarter and adjusted the algorithm each time. Now, 90% of the
winners are women. The men that are selected are almost always criminals sentenced
to the Lottery.

Betty’s attention was brought back to the present when a young woman in a vintage
candy striper uniform opened the door in to the treatment rooms. Holding up a
clipboard, she called out, “G523019”. After a few seconds, the nurse repeated
herself. Betty was confused. Just as she was about to ask the nurse to explain,
a woman seated in the near corner stood up and walked over to the door. The nurse
curtly said, “Room 3.” After the woman had passed through the door, the nurse said
to the room in a very haughty tone, “Take this time to read the instruction sheet
given to you at check-in and memorize your number. That is how we will refer to
you from now on. We can’t afford delays because you don’t know the information
given to you.” The nurse then closed the door.

Betty began reading the page the receptionist had given her. Most of the page was
government propaganda explaining how the National Livestock Lottery is the law of
the land, and how Lottery winners sacrifice was for the betterment of the nation
and all its citizens, and blah, blah, blah. At the bottom of the page were three
short sentences in a larger and bold font. They read, “Remember, people have
names. Livestock have numbers. Your number is B928461.” This, more than
receiving the notice, or reading the law online, or reading expert opinions from
judges and lawyers about lottery winner’s lack of rights drove home the fact that
this was for real. Betty was going to be processed.

Betty was lost deep in her thoughts when another young nurse dressed in the same
vintage candy striper uniform opened the door and said something. Like each of the
women that had been called before her, Betty did not comprehend what the nurse had
said. When the nurse stated “B928461” the second time, it registered. Betty stood
up, collected her purse, walked across the room and through the door.
The nurse led Betty down a short hallway and in to Room 2. The nurse closed the
door behind Betty. In a sweet, but professional tone, the nurse said, “Please
remove all of your clothing. Place your clothes, your shoes, and your purse in the
box on the exam table.” Still in a daze, Betty stared blankly at the nurse for a
few moments. The nurse in a much more stern voice stated, “If you do not
voluntarily do as instructed, I will call for an orderly to come and do it for
you.” Betty began to undress.

As she removed her shoes to place in the bottom of the box, Betty asked, “I though
as long as I wore a short skirt as instructed on the notice, I would only have to
remove my panties?”

Obviously having dealt with this question before, the nurse responded, “The rules
changed over two years ago. After a number of paying viewers complained that any
clothing was obstructing their view, the DPC committee made full nudity mandatory
during tagging. Then the rule requiring livestock to be nude from the time they
are graded until the time they are processed was introduced. The department in
charge of the notice just hasn’t bothered to update the language.” Betty accepted
the nurse’s answer but was still mortified at the thought of being completely naked
in front of people she did not know for the entire process. While placing her
shoes in the box Betty noticed a small red light up on the wall and the not so
small camera attached to it. As Betty removed her blouse, she spun around so that
her back was to the camera only to notice a second camera that had been behind her.

The nurse realizing what Betty had done mentioned, “The cameras are everywhere.
There is no way for you to hide here. Remember you’re livestock now. Livestock
don’t worry about modesty.” Tears formed in Betty’s eyes as she removed her bra,
skirt, and panties and placed them in the box. Last, she set her purse on top.
The nurse placed a top on the box that had Betty’s number written on it. Then
placed the box on the floor in the corner.

“You can’t do that,” stated the nurse, “You can’t cover yourself.” Betty hadn’t
realized that she was covering her breasts with one hand and her pussy with the
other. It was instinct. Betty lowered her hands to her sides. “If you do that
again, I’ll be forced to secure your hands behind your back,” stated the nurse.
She continued with a wink and a sly grin, “And besides, you have nothing to be
ashamed of.” Betty was 26 and good looking. Not stunning. But, she had turned
her share of heads, both men’s and women’s. Betty blushed, realizing the nurse was
looking her over and still had that sly grin. “Time to get the measurements of
that body…for grading purposes,” said the nurse playfully. Betty didn’t know why
but the nurses playfulness allowed her to relax a little. Betty really noticed the
woman in the room with her for the first time. The nurse was very cute. She was
slightly taller than Betty, maybe a year or two older. Her shoulder length blonde
hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. The nurse was slim with toned legs
that were exposed nicely by the short skirt on the nurse’s dress. The low cut in
her uniform provided a glimpse of her breasts that were perfectly sized for her
body.

Betty was forced to stop mentally undressing her when the nurse said, “Please step
on the scale.” The nurse then measured Betty’s height and weight and stated, “5
foot 6 and 142 pounds.”

Betty had put on a couple pounds. It seemed pointless to her to continue going to
the gym once the notice arrived. It’s not like she would be benefiting from those
healthy habits when she got older. Removing a tape measure from a drawer the nurse
continued taking measurements. While measuring Betty’s hips and waist, the nurse
kept constant contact with Betty’s skin. When measuring the inseam, the nurse
started at Betty’s ankle sliding her hand up Betty’s leg and ‘accidentally’ bumped
in to Betty’s pussy. The nurse then repeated the process, including the accidental
bump, on Betty’s other leg, as if the measurement would change.

“I need to measure your breasts. I think you’re a C, but let’s make sure. Please
place your hands on top of your head,” said the nurse. After she took the
measurements, she tweaked Betty’s left nipple stating, “As I thought, you’re a C
like me.”

“Please sit on the exam table so I can check your vitals,” asked the nurse. Betty
did as requested. The nurse proceeded to check her blood pressure. Retrieving a
scope from the counter, the nurse inspected Betty’s ears and then inside her nose
and mouth. When the nurse switched scopes and inspected Betty’s eyes, Betty was
acutely aware of how close the nurse’s lips were to her own. The nurse put down
the scopes and retrieved a stethoscope listening to Betty’s heartbeat and
breathing. Betty wasn’t certain, but she felt that the nurse was ‘accidentally’
bumping in to her breasts while she worked.

“OK. Time to take your temperature. I need you get on your hands and knees on the
table. Then lower your head to the table.” In response to Betty’s confused look,
the nurse continued, “To get the most accurate reading, we take temperature
internally.” The nurse showed Betty an old-fashioned mercury thermometer. Only
this one was about a foot long and about an inch in diameter.

As Betty crawled on to the table she looked straight ahead and in to a camera. As
she lowered her head to the table, she realized that directly behind her was
another camera. That one was giving the viewing audience a full view of her ass
and pussy. The nurse spread Betty’s legs to the edges of the table. She then
lubed and inserted the long thermometer in to Betty’s anus. She did not stop until
the bulb pressed against Betty’s sphincter. Betty had never had anything in her
butt before and it was a strange sensation.

The nurse stated, “It will take about a minute for this to measure the temperature.
Just try to relax.” As the nurse stared at her wristwatch, she placed her hand on
Betty’s arm and began gently caressing it. After what seemed like far more than 1
minute to Betty, the nurse removed the thermometer and checked the reading. She
then slowly walked over and placed it in a red bag on the counter. The nurse
removed a towel from a box that was sitting on the counter and returned to Betty.
The nurse began to wipe the excess lube from Betty’s anus with a warm towel. The
nurse was being very thorough. Once she was satisfied that he had completely
removed all traces of the lube, she instructed “OK. Almost done. Last thing I
need to do is a pelvic exam. Flip over on your back and slide down.”

As Betty did as instructed, the nurse folded out the stirrups. She then placed
Betty’s legs in to them. Lying on her back, Betty was staring straight up in to
yet another camera. Betty felt the speculum slide in to her pussy then expand.
The nurse proceeded to perform a very thorough exam spending far more time touching
Betty’s parts than her gynecologist ever did. After removing the speculum, the
nurse again used a warm towel to remove the lube. She released Betty’s legs from
the stirrups and helped her sit up before entering information into a computer.
The nurse typed at the computer for a few minutes. She then stood and with a
beaming smile announced in what can only be described as an game show host voice,
“I’m happy to tell you that you have been graded……..an A. Congratulations!” She
held out her hand to Betty and said, “Come on, let’s go get you ready for the main
event.”

While certainly not looking forward to what was coming next, Betty was glad that
she had gotten this nurse and not one that was all business or worse, one that was
cold and heartless. Taking the nurses hand, Betty walked out of the room, down the
hall, and through a double set of doors labeled ‘Tagging theaters’. As they walked
down the hall passing a set of doors, one on either side of the hall, the nurse
explained, “There are 4 theaters, each with its own viewing area behind a one way
mirror. For reasons that will soon be very obvious the theaters are completely
sound proof from each other and this hallway. The theaters used to be sound
proofed from the viewing rooms. However, the viewers felt too isolated from the
action, even after installing microphones in the theaters and speakers in the
viewing rooms. So large vents were installed that allow all the sound pass
through. Occasionally we’ll have VIPs be allowed in the theaters during a tagging.
But that it generally frowned upon.” At this point Betty and the nurse, still
holding hands, arrived at the second pair of doors. The nurse angled towards the
door on the right labeled ‘Theater D’. She opened the door and motioned Betty to
enter. The nurse followed Betty through the door and closed it with an ominous
clunk that sounded somewhat like a prison cell door closing.

The theater looked much like a small operating room. In contrast to the dimly lit
hallway leading to it, the room was bright. The walls and ceiling were white and
the floor was white tiles with colored speckles in them. The room was not big,
measuring maybe fifteen feet square with nine foot ceilings. Unlike a normal
operating room, this room was Spartan, lacking the monitors and medical equipment
normally seen in an OR. In the center of the room was a gynecology chair.
Surrounding the chair was a short stool on wheels and two small, wheeled tables
each covered by a cloth. The gyno chair faced a wall on which was centered a large
mirror that was 10 feet wide and 6 feet tall. Filling the spaces between the edges
of the mirror and the edges of the wall were vents. Betty surmised this was the
viewing room the nurse has told her about. She wondered if anyone she knew was in
there now. Her parents and brother said they could not bear to watch. Her younger
sister and some of her friends and coworkers said they would go as a show of
support despite Betty trying to convince them not to. Betty continued to scan the
room noticing several cameras and microphones.

Once the nurse felt that Betty had sufficient time to ‘take it all in’, she began
to speak. “This is the tagging theater,” she said gesturing to the whole room.
“In the center is where you will be for the tagging. Through the mirror is the
live-viewing audience.” As the nurse continued to point out features in the room,
Betty thought how odd it was that the nurse kept referring to the event as the
‘tagging’ leaving off the other horrible things that were going to be done to her.
Finished with providing a tour of the room the nurse said, “Any questions about the
room? I’ll cover the procedure as I get you prepped.” Betty shook her head, no.
“Great. Let’s get you prepped then,” said the nurse taking Betty’s hand again and
walking her towards the gyno chair.

“Please have a seat,” chimed the nurse.

Betty sat and then shimmied in to position. The back of the chair was at roughly a
45-degree angle. The nurse adjusted the height of the stirrups and placed each of
Betty’s legs in to one. The nurse then applied three straps to each leg securing
her thigh, shin, and foot. The nurse turned a knob at the bottom of the chair and
Betty’s legs spread wide, but not so wide as to cause discomfort. Next, the nurse
moved to Betty’s side and fastened straps across her hips, stomach, and just below
her breasts. These were tight, but again, not uncomfortably so. With the nurse no
longer in front of her, Betty was staring straight at the mirror. Betty turned
crimson at the thought that with her legs spread so wide, everyone in the viewing
room was getting a full view of her pussy and ass. The nurse drew Betty’s
attention away from her exposure by saying, “Cross your arms above your head.”
When Betty did as asked, the nurse strapped each of her upper arms to the frame and
then one around her crossed forearms. Betty was now completely secure with no
chance of escape.
The nurse walked back to Betty’s side with a sly smirk on her face. “Now I can do
whatever I want to you and there…is…nothing…you…can…do…to…stop…me,” said the nurse
in a very mischievous voice. At which point she began tickling Betty’s sides.
Betty was very ticklish and burst in to laughter. She tried to squirm away from
the nurse’s attack, but was held tight by the straps. Too soon for Betty, the
nurse stopped tickling and said, “Enough fun. Let’s finish getting you ready.” At
which point, she pulled a lever on the side of the chair and the small section of
seat under Betty’s ass pivoted down. The stirrups and the straps across her body
now held her up. The nurse removed the cover from one of the small tables and
began pointing to each object on the tray while explaining, “First, I need to shave
you. When I finish that, I will give you a shot that contains a powerful anti-
biotic. This will ensure you don’t get an infection from your tagging. We used to
do the shaving in the treatment rooms. But the viewers complained that the
lighting and camera angles made it difficult to see.“ For not the first time
today, Betty sarcastically thought how glad she was that the desires of the viewers
to see her humiliated were more important than her not being humiliated in the
first place.

The nurse selected the razor and shaving cream. Betty regularly waxed. However,
she had skipped her monthly appointment last week. It seemed pointless at the
time. Being very careful not to obstruct the view of the audience behind the
mirror or the cameras in that direction, the nurse applied the shaving cream in
what, to Betty, felt more like a caress than simply lathering her. The nurse
seemed to be trying to arouse Betty. She would touch Betty’s inner thigh, then
move to her ass. She would stretch out Betty’s labia to get as much hair as
possible. A couple of time the nurse fingers would ‘accidentally slip’ in to
Betty’s pussy. Betty was transfixed watching this beautiful young woman slowly
shave another beautiful young woman’s pussy in the mirror. At one point Betty felt
the nurse press down on her clit and shift her finger several times, pretending to
get a better grip. Betty could feel the nurse’s breath on her pussy. A couple
more minutes of this and Betty knew she would have an orgasm. Betty almost
screamed in frustration when the nurse put down the razor and began spraying cool
water to wash away the remaining shaving cream.

The nurse then patted Betty dry stating, “There. You’ll heal much better without
hairs getting in the way.” After inspecting her work, the nurse put on a pair of
latex gloves and selected the syringe. The nurse wiped a spot on Betty’s left ass
cheek and then injected the contents of the syringe. When finished, the nurse did
not bother to wipe away the small drop of blood that had formed or apply a Band-Aid
as normally happened when getting a shot in the doctor’s office. Betty took this
to mean that, compared to what was about to happen, a needle prick was
inconsequential.

The nurse walked over and deposited the empty syringe in the sharps container. She
then picked up a phone hanging on the wall near the door. Betty overheard her say,
“She’s prepped….yes…..five minutes. OK.” She then hung up the phone and returned
to Betty. All of the nurse’s earlier playfulness was gone. She was all business
now. “Your tagger has been notified. She is finishing a procedure in another room
and will be here in about five minutes. When she arrives, she will explain the
procedure you are to undergo.” While the nurse busied herself cleaning up the
area, Betty tried and failed to catch her eye. The nurse rolled the tray she had
been using over to the corner near the door. Then rolled the other covered tray to
where the first had been. The nurse then pressed a button on the side of the gyno
chair that raised Betty almost another foot into the air. Next, the nurse rolled
over a mirror and positioned it so that when Betty looked in to it she had a good
view of her own pussy. On either side of the mirror were cameras. The mirror must
have been magnified, as everything seemed much larger and closer that Betty would
have expected. The nurse flipped a switch on the mirror’s pole and a bright light
shown directly on to Betty’s pussy.
After what seemed like an eternity, Betty heard the door open and footsteps before
the ominous clunk of the door closing. In a loud, rough voice with an accent that
Betty thought might be Russian, the tagger said, “Let’s see…. We have B928461 all
ready to be tagged….Oh! And I see the viewers have opted for the cowbells…I love it
when they do that!” Betty’s hear rate jumped. What were cowbells and why did the
viewers get a vote on whether she got them or not. Betty looked frantically at the
nurse who had walked over to her side as the tagger entered the room. The nurse’s
eyes were full of pity and Betty thought she saw the nurse mouth “I’m sorry.” The
nurse gently placed one hand on Betty’s thigh and the other on her stomach. The
calming touch did little given Betty’s state of mind. The tagger walked in to
Betty’s line of vision. She was a very large woman. At least six foot two and
broad. Betty thought she should be playing football rather than being in an
operating room. The tagger was staring intently at a tablet computer in her huge
hands. “You must have been popular before winning the lottery,” she exclaimed.
Looking directly at Betty, the tagger continued, ”You had over 1000 viewers
watching you get prepped. That is almost unheard of when there are three other
procedures being performed. Were you an actress? You certainly have the body to be
one.” Betty stared blankly at the tagger, who let out a huge laugh. “You didn’t
know!” the tagger boomed. She continued in a loud, but more conversational tone,
“All these cameras and microphones are live streamed on the internet now. We
started that about two months ago. It’s been very popular. You can purchase one
procedure or get them all for a monthly fee. We’re making a lot more money now
than we did with the viewing rooms only. The viewing rooms still sell well.
People say it’s like the difference between watching a play in the theater vs
watching it on TV. I think the big draw of the internet is the ability to watch
your favorite procedure over and over or watch from many angles in slow motion.”
Betty thought she was going to throw-up. She hadn’t known viewing these procedures
were available on the internet. It was bad enough that up to 50 people could be
watching from the other side of the mirror. But 1000, this was too much.

Sensing Betty’s distress, the nurse began stroking Betty’s thigh and murmuring,
“It’ll be alright…just relax.”

It helped enough that she didn’t panic when the tagger announced, “You’ve got just
shy of 4000 viewers online now that my other procedure has finished. I think the
record was 7000. That was for that sexy newswoman, though. You remember her, the
one that was investigating the Governor’s backroom deals before winning the
lottery. She should have known better. Causing trouble for powerful people is the
easiest way to win the lottery.” Betty barely heard the tagger. Her mind had
overloaded at the number 4000.

The tagger placed the tablet in a dock on the desk and pressed a button on the
screen. In the upper right corner of the wall mirror, the numbers 4 0 5 7 appeared
in a large, red block font. “I’ve set it to call out the count at each change of
100.,” stated the tagger. Should I have it announce the comments?”

Betty was about to scream “NO!” at the top of her lungs when the nurse calm
interjected, “Please don’t. That mechanical voice grates on my nerves. Plus
didn’t you say it gives you a headache?”

To Betty’s relief, the tagger said, “You’re right. I’ll leave it leave the
comments off and just have the count.”

As if on cue, a mechanical female voice called out “Four thousand, one hundred.”

To which the tagger exclaimed, “Good! Still climbing. If it hits 5000, I get a
bonus.” The tagger then walked over and sat on the stool positioned between
Betty’s legs. The tagger threw off the cloth that was covering her tray to reveal
many shiny metallic instruments. Betty could see clamps, and scalpels, and
scissors, and many other things she could not identify. The tagger picked up an
ice pick and turned back to Betty. She poked Betty on the right side of her pussy,
which caused her to jump. The tagger looked up to the nurse and stated, “She’s not
tight enough. She can still wiggle. Make her tighter.” The nurse instantly began
pulling on all the restrains and the tagger cranked the knob that widened Betty’s
legs even further. Betty’s groin muscles were in pain from being stretched so far.

During the tightening process, Betty heard the mechanical female voice call out
“four thousand two hundred,” and then “four thousand three hundred.”

The tagger poked Betty again with the ice pick, this time on the left side of her
pussy. Betty was so tightly secured now that she could not budge. Just to be sure
that Betty was unable to move at all, the tagger poked her several more times
around her pussy. Satisfied, the tagger placed the ice pick back on the tray and
picked up a large hole punch.

The tagger looked at Betty and began speaking. “Now. I’m required to explain the
procedure that you will undergo. They say it helps knowing each step as opposed to
the subjects mind imagining the worst possibilities. If I was in your place, I
wouldn’t want to know. Seems like to hear about it and then go through it is like
going through it twice. But rules are rules.” Betty thought she almost detected
compassion in the large woman’s voice. That vanished as the tagger began speaking
again. “First we are going to tag you.” Holding up the punch she had selected
from the tray the tagger continued, “We use a half inch punch.” Pointing to an
object on the tray that looked like a soldering iron, the tagger said, “I’ll
cauterize with this before adding the ring and tag.” At this, the tagger picked up
a shiny metal dog tag, dangling from a large ring, and showed it to Betty. “It’s
surgical steel. Three inches by two inches by a half inch thick. With the ring,
it weighs about one pound. Stamped on it is your number and your grade. I see you
were graded and ‘A’. You are definitely and A,” stated the tagger as she laid the
tag and ring on Betty’s pubic mound. Betty was surprised at the weight. This was
going to be hanging from her pussy for the next two weeks? Leaving the tag where
it was, the tagger continued, “We used to use much smaller tags. But, the DPC
directors though the livestock should always be aware that they were tagged. We
tried two tags, one on each lip. But they would get tangled and rip out, which
defeated the whole purpose.” Betty noticed that the tagger didn’t mention that it
also probably hurt like hell. “The process now is to punch a hole in each outer
labia and thread one ring through both before sealing. Using both sides, helps
support the weight of the tag. Plus, it acts like a chastity device. Not that
you’ll be thinking about sex after what comes next.” Continuing, the tagger said,
“And next, we start the fun stuff… Well, not fun for you…” Pointing over her
shoulder at the wall mirror the tagger said, “Fun for them. It’s what they paid to
see.” The tagger selected several instruments from the tray and began showing them
one at a time to Betty while explaining, “First, I’ll use this to clamp your hood.
Next, I’ll cut along here with this scalpel which will completely remove your hood,
exposing your clitoris. I’ll cauterize then remove the clamp. Since the viewing
audience met the minimum bid, you will sound like a proper cow once I install
these.” While talking the tagger had selected a box from the tray and opened it to
show Betty two bronze bells. Taking one of the two inch long bells out, the tagger
gave it a little shake. It made a dull clanking noise that reminded Betty of the
cows in old western movies. “To support the weight, I’ll have to pierce your
nipples very close to the areola.” As the tagger had returned the bell to its box
and placed the box back on the tray she exclaimed, “Oh! I almost forgot. Receiving
the bells pushes out your processing date by one extra week.”

“Great!” Betty thought. “More embarrassing and for a longer time.” Despite her
friends telling her not to, Betty had read several accounts of what would happen
during the tagging. While none of the descriptions she read mentioned cowbells,
she was not worried about that. Betty’s nipples had been pierced in the past. It
was what the tagger was about to describe that had her hear rate up. Betty noticed
that the nurse had begun stroking her thigh again. Betty thought to herself,
“Maybe the tagger was right. Maybe it was like going through it twice.”

The tagger then selected a pair of forceps and the scalpel from the tray. “For the
last step, I’ll grasp your clitoris with this, stretch it up, and then slice it off
at the base with this.” Betty felt light headed at the thought. Reading about it
had scared Betty. But listening to this woman explain it and realizing it was
going to be her clit, not some other woman’s, caused her to panic.

Betty began thrashing and repeatedly saying, “No. I need to get out of here.”

It was too late. She was restrained too securely. The nurse began trying to calm
Betty by caressing Betty’s hair, looking in to her eyes and saying over and over,
“it’s better if you relax…just breath….it’s better if you calm down…” When Betty
did not relax, the nurse asked the tagger, “Should I sedate her?”

The tagger replied, “No. Give her a moment. She’ll calm down. Besides, it’s not
worth the penalty.”

The nurse returned to looking in Betty’s eyes and began caressing her hair while
calmly repeating “breath…just relax” several times. The nurse hugged Betty as
best she could with her being strapped to the chair. Betty calmed and began
sobbing. After about a minute, Betty’s sobbing had slowed and the nurse stood up.
Betty could see the nurse had been crying too. The nurse pulled a few tissues from
a box under the chair, wiped her own eyes, and then Betty’s.

The tagger said in a composed voice, “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

Betty did have a question, two actually. To the tagger she asked, “What is the
penalty?” Since the tagger had a confused look on her face, Betty continued, “When
she asked you if I should be sedated, you said it wasn’t worth the penalty. What
penalty?”

The tagger was surprised that Betty had heard and comprehended that given the state
of mind she was in at the time. She answered in a clinical tone, “If a subject
becomes uncontrollably panicked, and needs to be sedated to calm down, three
additional holes are punched in to each labia and rings are used to seal up the
pussy. Before sealing though, this is inserted.” The tagger picked up a strange
looking knobby ball from the tray. She gave it a squeeze and Betty heard a buzzing
as the ball blurred slightly. “Our engineers have figured out a way to make the
battery last for 30 days. It would have vibrated inside of you, day and night,
with no way to escape. It would not be removed until after you were processed.”

The nurse added, “And with your clit gone, there would be no way to get relief from
the sensations it would cause.” The penalty had actually started to sound
interesting to Betty until the nurse’s comment.

Betty nodded and said, “OK…Why don’t you use a local anesthesia during the
process?” The tagger replied, “Sadism mostly. You’ve heard the story about why
the clitorectomies started?” Betty shook her head yes. The tagger continued, “He
was mad at his wife for cheating. He loved her and she hurt him badly. He wanted
to hurt her back.” The tagger paused, making Betty think that was the end of it.
However, the tagger asked, “Did you ever hear about what he did after his wife’s
tagging and before her processing?”

The nurse frowned and tapped an imaginary watch on her wrist. The tagger waved off
the nurse saying “Bah! We have time. This is the last procedure of the day. Look
at those numbers. People must be switching from the other procedures to watch us.”
Betty looked up at the wall mirror to see 5 7 4 3. She had missed all of the
increases being called out during her panic attack. The tagger said in a jovial
tone while thumbing at Betty, “Besides, she’s not in a hurry.” Betty readily
agreed hoping that it was a VERY long story.

The tagger began, “So the story everyone knows is that the wife cheated. The
director got revenge on her and her lover. And that’s it. But,…” The tagger
paused for effect before continuing on, “What most people don’t know is that during
the two weeks, the wife went back to her home with the director. However, now she
was the property of the agency that the director was the head of. On the night she
was tagged, the director threw a party inviting several of his close friends and
their wives. At this party, he made his wife strip completely naked. As he
escorted her around, he made her show her new scar to everyone. After dinner, the
director herded everyone in to the living room where they watched the tagging
process of his wife that he had secretly videotaped. Up until then, you see, the
only way to witness a tagging was to be a tagger or a taggee. After the viewing,
there was a bonfire in the back yard where the guests were invited to burn most of
the wife’s clothing.”

The mechanical female voice announced, “five thousand nine hundred.”

The tagger pushed on, “The next morning when the wife tried to get dressed, the
director ordered her to remain naked. When she objected, he paddled her ass cheeks
a bright red, then cuffed her hands behind her back so that there was no way for
her to put on clothing. That night, the director had arranged for a party with all
of HER friends. Again, the director made his wife show off her scar to all in
attendance. And again, after dinner, there was the viewing of her tagging and then
a bonfire where the rest of the wife’s clothing was burned.”

Betty was both intrigued and revolted at the same time. She looked up to the
nurse who had obviously heard this story many, many times and was completely bored.
Betty returned her gaze to the tagger who continued, “And so it went. Each night a
party. Each night the wife naked forced to show what was left of her pussy to
everyone. And every night a viewing of the tagging. As the director had burned
all of his wife’s clothing in the first two nights, the bonfires were just normal.
Although, several pairs of panties and even a dress or two did get thrown in by
guests who had too much to drink.” The tagger took a deep breath and began in a
lower voice, “On the last night before her processing, the director arranged for a
‘romantic’ night for just his wife and her, now sexless, lover. There was a
private candle lit dinner for two. On the table had been left a note from the
director saying the guest bedroom had been prepared for them if they wanted it. In
the morning, the wife and her lover were found dead in the guest room bed,
intertwined with each other in a lovers embrace. On the nightstand, there was a
bottle of cyanide tablets. It was never proven, but many believe that the director
placed the tablets in the room because he felt guilty for what he had done to his
wife and couldn’t stand the thought of her being processed. Soon after this, the
suicide rule was implemented that if a lottery winner kills themselves, the next
closest relative of the same gender would take their place.” Betty was watching
the tagger intently. She had not looked up since beginning the last part of her
story. Betty had expected the tagger to be this brutish monster, especially given
the way she looked. But, deep down, Betty suspected she was human after all.
Continuing she said, “The director had planned to reverse his directive on the
castrations and clitorectomies. However, he was getting bombarded with requests to
view the taggings in person. People even began offering him money to arrange
special viewing for them to watch friends and relatives. Now, it brings in too
much money and is in too high demand to stop.”
Just as the tagger finished her last sentence, the mechanical female voice called
out “Six thousand”.

At which point the tagger’s demeanor returned to normal and she looked up at the
nurse and exclaimed, “Ha! I told you. People love this story.”

The nurse just rolled her eyes and retorted, “You’ve never hit 6000 before by
telling that story. They are connecting to see this beautiful woman naked with her
pussy spread lewdly at the camera.” At which point the nurse tweaked Betty’s
nipple and gave her a wink. Betty smiled. She had allowed herself to forget that
she was naked and strapped to a chair and fully exposed to, now, 6000 people. She
had also allowed herself to forget why she was naked, and why she was strapped to a
chair, and what those 6000 people had paid to see. The smile faded from Betty’s
face.

The tagger in a reluctant tone said, “Enough delaying. Let’s get this over with.”

The tagger selected the hole punch from the tray. The nurse had returned to
Betty’s side and placed one hand on Betty’s chest just above her breasts and
gripped her hand. The tagger looked up to Betty and said, “Deep breath and hold
it.” When Betty complied, the tagger punched a half-inch diameter hole in Betty’s
right outer labia. Betty exhaled, crying out. It hurt far more than she had
expected. The tagger gave Betty a moment to recover, then said “deep breath
again.” Soon there was a matching hole on Betty’s left labia. “OK. This will
sting” said the tagger as she used the soldering iron to cauterize each hole.

Betty sucked in air and squeezed the nurses hand. If that was a ‘sting’ she didn’t
want to know what the tagger thought painful was. Setting down the iron, the
tagger collected the tag from Betty’s pubic mound. Betty had forgotten that it was
sitting there. The tagger threaded the ring through each hole, applied a drop of a
silvery liquid in to the open end of the ring, and squeezed it shut with an audible
click. Betty stared at her pierced pussy in the overhead mirror. Betty had always
thought she would like to get some pussy piercings one day. This was not what she
had in mind. Noticing Betty looking at the small bottle of liquid in her hand, the
tagger commented, “This is a military grade epoxy. Once it sets, that ring can
never be pulled apart.”

Next, the tagger selected the horseshoe shaped clamp and began positioning it
around Betty’s clitoral hood. The nurse held a folded hand towel in front of
Betty’s mouth.

“Here, bite down on this. It’ll keep you from cracking your teeth,” instructed the
nurse. Betty bit down on the towel, her heart beginning to race again. The nurse
returned to her position holding Betty’s hand. In the overhead mirror Betty stared
intently at her clamped pussy and the scalpel getting ever closer to it.

Holding the scalpel in position the tagger said, “this time on the count of
three….One…..T-” And on saying “Two” the tagger sliced around the clamp. Betty
saw the tagger’s hand move then heard an inhuman scream. Betty realized that scream
was coming from her mouth. The towel had flung out and landed on Betty’s stomach.
Betty screamed so hard that her lungs burned. The nurse was stroking Betty’s hair
and whispering something. Betty could not make out what over her own screams.
Soon Betty was screamed out and just sobbed deeply. The nurse had laid her head on
Betty’s chest and was doing her best to give Betty a hug. Betty wished her arms
were not secured over her head so that could wrap them around the nurse. Betty
could hear the tagger saying in an apologetic tone, “Sorry for tricking you. I’ve
found that people tense up at ‘three’ and it hurts more. Being surprised seems to
help.” Betty’s crying calmed to just sobbing. The nurse stood up and again wiped
her eyes and then Betty’s.
During the time it had taken Betty to recover, the tagger had cauterized the
incision and removed the clamp. Betty was already in so much paid that she barely
registered either event. When Betty became aware of her surroundings again she
realized the tagger had moved from between her legs to her side. Betty saw that
she was carrying the box that contained the cowbells and a smaller punch. The
tagger removed each bell and set them on Betty’s stomach and handed the box to the
nurse, who set it back on the tray. When the nurse returned, the tagger said to
her, “You do it. My hands are too big and rough. Plus,” gesturing to Betty, “she
would like for you to touch her as much as you want to touch her.” The nurse
blushed slightly. Betty had gone crimson. Betty was currently unattached, but had
been in both straight and lesbian relationships. Betty had thought to herself that
she would have liked to have met the nurse under different circumstances. She was
cute and had a nice figure that was perfectly accentuated by the short skirt
uniform she was wearing. The nurse scowled at the tagger, who just grinned a
knowing grin. The nurse placed her hand on Betty’s breast closest to the tagger
and began caressing. Continuing to stroke, being sure to pay special attention to
the nipple, she looked in to Betty’s eyes. Despite all that had happened to her
today, her nipple began to harden.

The nurse continued her ministrations until the tagger said, “That’ll do. Work on
the other one.” The nurse slid her hand slowly from Betty’s right breast, scraping
her fingernails across Betty’s chest, to her left breast. The nurse eyes never
left Betty’s. The nurse began caressing. Entranced by what the nurse was doing,
Betty did not notice the tagger slip the punch over the fully erect nipple until
she felt the sharp pain of the punch closing. Betty ignored the pain and stayed
focused on the nurse’s eyes. Those beautiful lust filled eyes. Without breaking
eye contact, the nurse lowered her head to Betty’s chest and began licking and
sucking on Betty’s left nipple. The nurse had a very talented tongue. Betty
wished she would use it somewhere… slightly lower on her body.

Betty’s thoughts returned to the present when she heard the tagger exclaim, “That’s
enough! This isn’t a porn set.” The nurse stood up still looking in to Betty’s
eyes. The tagger grasped Betty’s left breast and quickly punched the hole in that
nipple. She then threaded the rings attached to the cowbells through each
piercing, applied a drop of the epoxy, and sealed the rings.

The mechanical female voice quickly said in succession “Six thousand two hundred…
Six thousand three hundred…Six thousand four hundred”.

The nurse turned to the tagger with a smug look on her face and said in a haughty
tone, “Ha! People would rather see that than listen to your boring story any day”.
She then winked at Betty and blew her a kiss. The tagger, chuckling to herself,
returned to the stool between Betty’s legs.

Betty took this lull in the action to inspect the damage done to her pussy in the
overhead mirror. She had expected to see a bloody, shredded mess. It was angry
red, of course. But surprisingly there was very little blood. With her hood gone,
her clitoris was completely exposed. And because of the nurse’s teasing, her clit
stood out very prominently. Betty also noticed the wetness leaking out of her
pussy. She thought to herself, “How could I possibly be aroused?” Looking over at
her, Betty could see the points of nurse’s nipples pressing against the fabric of
her blouse.

The mechanical female voice stated, “Six thousand five hundred.”

The tagger stood up and walked over to her tablet that was sitting in its cradle on
the desk. The tagger read something, scrolled, and read some more. Betty realized
the tagger must have been reading she comments that mentioned earlier. With a wide
grin on her face, the tagger turned back to look at both Betty and the nurse.
Addressing them both she said, “There was a suggestion made by one of the viewers
that has been up voted over 4000 times.” Given the cowbells vote, Betty was afraid
to hear what would be done to her now. After a pause, the tagger looking at the
nurse in a very sinister gaze and continued, “They want you to finish what you
started.”

The nurse became as pale as the walls in the room. Quickly recovering, she said,
“You know I can’t do that. It’s against the rules.”

The tagger cupped her chin in her hand in a thoughtful pose and retorted in a
lawyerly tone, “Technically, it’s only against the rules if it is done out of
compassion. To ease the suffering. This is the request of paying customers. I
don’t see it as any different than the cowbells. Besides you have a unique status
that-”

The nurse cut her off at that point saying only, “Don’t!”

While speaking, the tagger had been walking back towards the two. When she got
close, she said in a low voice, “I can tell you want to.” Pointing at Betty’s
exposed pussy the tagger said, “I can see she wants you to.” The tagger looked
straight in to the nurse’s eyes and said almost in a whisper, “Do it now. Once I
pick up that scalpel, you’ll have lost your chance forever.”

The nurse looked over at Betty, then at the large wall mirror, and then back at the
tagger. Making up her mind, she turned, walked over to Betty, and passionately
kissed her on the mouth. Betty was surprised, but quickly adjusted. She returned
the kiss as strongly as she could. The nurse’s left hand was gliding over Betty’s
chest while her right ran through Betty’s hair. After a half minute of this, the
nurse kissed Betty’s neck and kissed her way down to Betty’s breasts. Betty kept
hearing the mechanical female voice call out numbers. But her mind could not tell
what they were as her focus was entirely on the nurse what she was doing. After
caressing, kissing, and licking Betty’s breasts for a full minute, the nurse moved
slowly down Betty’s body kissing and dragging her nails across Betty’s stomach.
The nurse then moved around between Betty’s spread legs running her tongue and lips
over Betty’s pubic mound. The nurse began gently kissing the scar where Betty’s
hood had been. The mix of pain and pleasure was more intense than anything Betty
had ever felt. The nurse pulled back to gazed up at Betty with a mischievous look
in her face. Betty had a terrified thought that the nurse was going to stop,
having teased her right to the edge. Betty’s fear was misplaced. She felt the
nurse slip two fingers in to her pussy. Pressing her thumb firmly on Betty’s
clitoris, the nurse began moving it in a lazy circle while rubbing underneath with
her fingers. Sensing that Betty was getting close, the nurse withdrew her hands
and began kissing Betty’s thighs. Betty let out a moan of disappointment. The
nurse playfully tugged on the ring through Betty’s labia while kissing all around
her pussy. Once Betty had backed away from the edge, the nurse slid her fingers in
to Betty’s pussy again and pressed a thumb on her clit. After only about ten
seconds of this stimulation, the nurse replaced her thumb with her mouth. The
nurse’s talented tongue encircled and flicked Betty’s clit. Her fingers never
stopped rubbing as the nurse sucked and licked. The nurse gently grasped Betty’s
clit in her teeth and pulled up allowing the clit to slide slowly out. The
scraping sensation caused Betty to moan in pleasure. The nurse repeated the action
eliciting a much louder moan. The nurse removed her fingers from Betty’s pussy but
returned her thumb to Betty’s clit. The nurse then plunged her tongue as deep as
she could in to Betty’s pussy. Again sensing that Betty was on the edge, the nurse
withdrew. Betty groaned and shot the nurse a look of pure betrayal. She tried to
shift her pussy in front of the nurse’s face as she again began kissing Betty’s
thighs and tugging on her ring. It took longer this time, but Betty backed away
from the edge again. Sensing that Betty had calmed, the nurse began again. This
time much more intense. The rubbing, the kissing, the sucking. The nurse’s teeth
scraping Betty’s clit. Her tongue flicking and licking. With a very loud moan,
Betty’s whole body tensed, as she experienced the most powerful orgasm she had ever
had.

It took almost 30 seconds for Betty’s orgasm to subside. In that time, the nurse
had walked back around and was stroking Betty’s hair. The tagger, who had walked
back over to her tablet when the action began, called out, “It’s official! You
hold the record for the most watched procedure.” Betty looked up to the wall
mirror to see 7 3 5 8. She blushed realizing that so many people, probably many
she knew, had just watched her have, and enjoy immensely, lesbian sex. Looking at
the nurse the tagger said in a mocking voice, “You have several people asking for
your phone number. Some have made proposals for marriage. A few of them are even
men.” Now it was the nurses turn to blush. She looked back at Betty who was still
glowing from her orgasm. The nurse partially laid on Betty and gave her a long
slow kiss. While the girls were distracted, the tagger walked back over, rolled
the stool in to position, and sat down between Betty’s legs. Without making a
sound, she picked up the forceps and scalpel. Betty tensed when the tagger grasped
her clit, over sensitized by her orgasm. She began to scream through the kiss as
the tagger pulled up until the point that Betty thought the tagger meant to rip her
clit from her body rather than cut it off. The nurse lowered her head on to
Betty’s chest as the scalpel sliced through the base of Betty’s clit in one quick
motion. Betty’s blood curdling scream was silenced when the tagger applied the
iron to cauterize the wound. Mercifully, Betty had passed out.

Betty awoke to the sensation of something warm and soft being rubbed on her thighs
and pussy. The overhead mirror was still in place. In it, she saw the nurse
gently wiping away the blood. Betty could tell that the nurse was crying. Betty
just watched her work for a while. Eventually, the nurse finished cleaning and
looked up to see Betty watching her. The nurse quickly looked away. She stood
without looking at Betty and began to roll the tray towards the wall.

Betty’s throat, raw from screaming, croaked out, “Thank you.”

The nurse stopped walking and brought her hands to her face. After a moment, the
nurse regained her composure. Letting out a deep breath and wiping her eyes, she
finished pushing the second tray to where the first rested and walked back over to
Betty. In a very clinical tone the nurse remarked, “Now that I have cleaned you
up, I will release you from your restraints and help you to stand. I will then
escort you to recovery where you will receive post-tagging instructions. You’ll be
able to rest for up to 30 minutes before discharge.” Without making any eye
contact, the nurse returned the small seat under Betty’s ass, released her arms,
then her torso, and finally her legs. Betty winced as the nurse removed her legs
from the stirrups. As Betty slid out of the chair, the nurse offered her arm for
support. Once standing, the nurse wrapped her arm around Betty’s waist and put
Betty’s arm over her shoulder. The embrace was clinical, with no emotion. Betty
wondered if the nurse had gotten in trouble for her earlier actions and been
reprimanded while Betty had been unconscious.

The nurse said, “Just take it slowly. Between the tagging and the extended time
with your legs spread so wide, you will be unsteady.”

Betty took small steps, supporting some of her weight on the nurse. She had felt
the tag as she got out of the chair, but now Betty realized that every motion
caused the tag to sway and bump in to her thighs. The nurse guided Betty out the
door, down the hall away from the treatment rooms and waiting area, and through a
door labeled ‘Recovery’. There were eight doors on this new hallway. The nurse
escorted Betty through the one marked ‘D-2’. The nurse closed the door behind
them and guided Betty over to a hospital bed against one wall, helping Betty to lie
down. As the nurse turned to walk away, Betty held on to her hand. The nurse
stopped.

In a soft voice, Betty said, “Thank you.”

The nurse turned around and practically fell on top of Betty laying her head on
Betty’s chest and wrapping her arms around Betty’s body. The nurse was crying and
repeating, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Betty, relieved to no longer have her arms bound, wrapped them around the nurse in
a tight embrace. After about the fifth time that they nurse said she was sorry,
Betty hushed her and responded, “What are you sorry for?”

In a sobbing voice the nurse said, “It was bad enough you being humiliated by the
normal grading and tagging. But, because of what I did, you are already all over
the internet. Everyone will know you as the girl that came during her tagging.
People won’t let you forget this.”

Smiling, Betty looked directly in to the nurses eyes, and said, “I don’t care. I
would trade a few weeks of public humiliation for that orgasm any day.” In a
softer voice Betty continued, “You were amazing. I’m only sad that you can’t do it
again.” After a brief pause, Betty said, “I’d love to return the favor.”

The nurse looked sorrowfully in to Betty’s eyes and said, “I’d love for you to.
But you can’t.”

Dejected, Betty surmised, “Against the rules?”

The nurse slid off Betty and stood up. “No,” she said and began lifting her skirt
revealing a shaved pussy, with a large tag attached to a ring pierced through both
labia, and a scar where her clit and hood should have been.

Betty sat up. She tried to say something, but could not form the words. Finally,
Betty blurted out, “You won the Lottery too? Were you working here when it
happened? How long until you’re processed?”

The nurse began, “As the grading and tagging and viewings were introduced, the
normal taggers were overloaded with all the tasks they were having to perform. The
DPC tried hiring more taggers, but finding enough women… and they had to be women
because the viewers objected to men tagging women. Finding enough women with the
necessary skills and the willingness to do the gruesome job, proved impossible.
Out of desperation, more than anything else, the DPC began offering reprieves from
processing to women with medical backgrounds. Those of us that had been nurses or
dental assistants were offered jobs as Tagging Nurse. Doctors, dentists, and
surgeons were offered jobs as taggers. Of course, the offers were made after our
own tagging procedure. The ones that declined the offer, were accused of
attempting to escape and were processed immediately. To avoid suspicion, those of
us that accepted were ‘processed’ just as scheduled. They just stuck someone else
in our place at the last minute. No one really looks too closely at the bodies
after processing. We were forced to watch the processing and were told that if we
ever spoke of this, our reprieve would be revoked and we would be swapped for the
next person that accepted the offer.”

Betty’s eyes grew wide as she heard that last sense. She began scanning the room
looking for the cameras and microphones that were everywhere else in this place.

The nurse chuckled when she saw Betty scanning the room. “Relax,” she said, “There
are no cameras or mics in here. No one ever watches this part. Besides, I’m not
certain that my reprieve won’t get revoked after what I did today anyway.” Betty
was just watching the nurse and trying to absorb what she was being told. To break
the silence, more than anything, the nurse continued in a somber tone, “I’ve been
doing this almost 2 years. I’ve prepped over one thousand women and watched them
be mutilated, all to save my own skin. You must think I’m a monster!”

Betty reached out and grasped the nurse’s hand, pulling her closer. “I don’t think
you’re a monster, “ Betty said, “I think anyone would do just about anything to
save their life. If I had medical training, I’d do it.” Betty suddenly regretted
not putting more effort in to her high school biology and chemistry classes.

A chime and a mechanical voice stating, “15 minutes”, spoiled the mood.

The nurse stiffened and pulled away from Betty saying, “I need to go over your
release instructions.” She continued as if reading from a script, “You are now
livestock and property of the Department of Population Control, Southeast Division.
As property, you have an intrinsic value. If that value is denied the DPC through
your actions, restitution will be sought from your family and friends.” The nurse
dropped in to a friendlier tone and said, “This means that if you kill yourself or
run away, they will select another female from your family or friends.” The nurse
returned to her reading tone, “The rules for livestock are as follows. One,
livestock may not wear clothing or anything that covers their bodies. Livestock
may wear footwear to protect the bottoms of their feet. However, the footwear must
cover as little of the top of the feet as possible. Attempts to cover your body
with anything, including other parts of your body will be considered a violation of
this rule and will result in measures to correct the behavior.” The nurse dropped
back in to the friendly tone and said, “This means that if they catch you covering
up, even with your hands, they will cuff your hands behind your back. Also, be
careful about crossing your legs. Some inspectors consider this a violation and
will make you wear a spreader bar.” The nurse continued in her reading tone, “Two,
24 hours after tagging, livestock are to return to their normal life, including
work, if employed. If unemployed or if caught skipping work, you will be assigned
to one of the visibility centers.”

Betty had read about these visibility centers. These are storefront windows along
busy streets in the downtown business areas. The women just stood there being
gawked at by thousands of people going to and from work or going out for lunch.
They had actually become something of a tourist attraction for out of country
visitors.

“Finally, “continued the nurse “you will report to the processing center listed on
the card at the time and date listed.”

At this point, the nurse handed Betty an orange index card. Across the top in
block lettering read ‘Department of Population Control’. And below that, ‘Report
for Processing Notice’. The processing center and address listed was a few miles
away from Betty’s apartment. The date was exactly three weeks away. Betty was to
report at 6:30 PM.

“Great.” She thought. “I’ll have to work a whole day and then go be processed.
Couldn’t I have been given an early morning time?”

The nurse, still in her reading tone said, “Do you have any questions about the
rules?” Betty shook her head, no. “Good,” continued the nurse. Handing Betty a
tube of cream and a bottle of pills she explained, “The pills are a powerful
antibiotic that will reduce the chance of infection. They are to be take every day
until gone. The cream should be applied to the wound to ensure proper healing.”
Betty took the items offered her as the nurse asked, “Do you understand these
instructions?”
Unable to speak, Betty shook her head, yes. At this, the nurse walked over to the
counter, collected Betty’s purse and some yellow, plastic looking things, and
walked back to Betty. She handed Betty her purse. Betty took it and dropped the
index card, bottle of pills, and tube of cream in it. Then the nurse handed Betty
the yellow things. Betty realized they were flip-flops.

In her friendly tone, the nurse said, “These are considered acceptable footwear.
Actually any thin strapped sandal is.” Then in a playful tone she joked, “I’d stay
away from heels for a couple of days until you have had a chance to heal some, if I
were you.” Betty just rolled her eyes. The nurse continued in her playful tone,
“Oh, and the one, and probably only plus to being tagged, you can ride any of the
local buses for free.” Shifting back to her reading tone, the nurse handed Betty a
business card and stated, “If after a couple of days you do not feel that the
wounds are healing, you can contact the number on the card to speak with a doctor
to determine if anything needs to be done.”

A chime sounded and the mechanical voice stated “Two minutes.”

Betty stood and stepped in to the yellow flip-flops. The nurse began walking
towards the door saying over her shoulder, “Please follow me to the exit.”

Betty followed the nurse as she walked out of the room and down the hall towards a
door labeled, Discharge. The nurse held the door open and said, “Be sure to use
the handrail as you go down the stairs. Your legs may still be a little shaky.”

Betty thanked the nurse and descended the stairs. As she got to the street, Betty
looked back over her shoulder to see the nurse still holding the door and watching
her.

Betty pulled her phone out of her purse to check the time. In addition to seeing
that it was now 5:45, Betty noticed that she had lots of texts waiting for her to
read. Betty dropped her phone back in her purse not wanting to deal with that
right now. She just wanted to get home. Betty was thinking back over the events
of the day when she realized that the clop-clop-clop of the flip-flops sounded like
hooves walking on stone. When added to that, the clanking of the bells attached to
her breasts and tinkling of the tag between her legs she sounded exactly like the
cows in those old western movies. All that would be needed was the occasional
‘moo’. As Betty came up to the bus station, she decided that she really did not
want to get on a bus packed with people riding home from work. It was only about
four blocks to her apartment and she was not likely to have to talk to anyone while
walking.

About half way to her apartment, a mother with her five-year-old son turned on to
the street and began walking toward Betty. Betty resisted the urge to cross her
arms over her breasts. As the mother and son approached, Betty saw the look of
pity in the woman’s eyes.

The little boy ask his mother, “Mommy, why is that woman not wearing any clothes?”
The mother tried to silence her son. But, the boy blurted out, “What are those
things on her boobies?”

Betty had thought she was OK with being exposed. After all, several thousand
people had been watching her earlier in a much more revealing position. But, she
now realized that for the next three weeks, the people seeing her would not be
through a mirror or at the other end of a camera feed. They would be near her.
She would be able to see their faces, their reactions. She would hear their
comments, probably even have to talk to them and answer their questions. Betty was
not sure that she could do this.
Luckily, Betty did not encounter any more people on her walk to her apartment. She
had feared that she would run in to one of her neighbors in the lobby or on the
elevator. As she was putting the key in to the door of her apartment, she saw an
envelope taped to the door. Not wanting to risk being caught in the hallway, she
grabbed the envelope, rushed inside, and closed the door behind her.

“This horrible day is finally over,” Betty thought to herself.

As she was walking over to flop on to her couch, she notice that the curtains were
missing from her windows. She looked at her couch and realized that the throw
blanket normally draped over the arm was gone, too. She scanned the room but saw
nothing else out of place. Her TV was still there. Her laptop was on the desk,
just as she left it. She walked in to her bedroom and saw that the blanket and
sheets were gone from her bed. One of the drawers on her dresser, the one that
held her T-shirts, was pulled slightly out. She never left drawers open. As she
approached the dresser, she could see that it looked empty. Her suspicion was
confirmed when she pulled the drawer open. Betty opened each drawer to find them
all empty. She opened the jewelry box on top of the dresser expecting it to empty
too. Only, it wasn’t. All of her necklaces, bracelets, and earrings were still
there.

“Why would someone break in to my apartment, steal all my clothes, but leave
everything else,” Betty thought. She wandered in to her closet. As expected, all
of her dresses, skirts, and blouses normally hanging in there were gone. So were
most of her shoes. All that was left were the thin strappy sandals. On the shoe
rack was a box that she did not recognize. As she opened it, Betty realized what
was going on. The box contained several pairs of the cheap yellow flip-flops like
the ones she had worn home from the clinic. Betty walked back towards the front of
her apartment and picked up the envelope that had been taped to her door.

Emblazoned across the front of the envelope was the logo of the DPC and in bold
block letters, “Notice”. Betty opened the envelope and extracted the letter
within. It read, “In accordance with statute 4824b from the Department of
Population Control, Southeast division, all clothing or cloth large enough to cover
the body has been removed from these premises and donated to a local charity
organization.” The letter droned on with a bunch of legalese for a couple more
paragraphs. At the bottom was the seal of the DPC again with an inked signature
that Betty could not make out. “Well at least they are giving my clothes to
charity and not burning them,” Betty thought. Betty dropped the letter and
envelope on the counter and wandered in to her bathroom. She was not surprised to
discover all her bath towels were gone. In addition to her own hand towels and
washcloths, they left a small stack of extra hand towels. Betty surmised that it
would take at least two, and probably three, to dry off after a shower.

Suddenly feeling very tired from the events of the day, Betty laid down on her bed.
In a few minutes she was sound asleep.