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{This part is gonna be super dee duper depraved. Check the tags to make sure the kinkiness will not overpower your soul. Fair warning! And now, showtime. ;3}

KITTYSLUT FACTORY

--

Part Three

The sheer volume of catboys going through the Sorting room could not have come from only one place; there must've been multiple Intakes, multiple Processings; the massive crowd he'd seen bringing in their squirming kittysluts must really be ten times bigger, just spread out over the entire factory. And every cub, it seemed, ended up in this one labyrinthine room.

Some belts, like the one they were following from Processing, were mudded down with the greasy red entrails of smushed-up whores, which meant the still-living had no choice but to sit in their former brothers and friends, their smooth-furred butts getting coated with a sheen of blood. Tymu spotted a three-year-old babywhore from up on their catwalk perch, blinking and looking around confusedly. Daddy closed one eye, aimed, and spat down, timing it perfectly so the glob of phlegm splattered right on its cute little face.

"So, Sorting is where you products get sorted, obviously," Mera explained, leading Tymu and his father around a corner and pointing. "Here's where the real magic happens. Obviously we gotta get you in with all the belts, but here's where the belts drop you off for good."

In front of them was a huge landing station, a big fluffy pad where the kittens would fall and bounce, some even giggling despite themselves. Immediately, a group of workers-- all male, all with massive dripping cocks-- would grab them by an arm or a tail or their hair and drag them off into one of many closed booths. Daddy spotted the same three-year-old he'd spat on getting dragged away effortlessly into a booth, and Mera led them into its back door.

"So, you cunts can end up in three lines of work if you survive the factory. You can end up as a piece of Fuckmeat, or a Toilet, or-- if you're lucky-- a Bimbo. Not that you aren't already those things from the word "go," but certain products excel at certain tasks, no? Anyway, this is where we push your limits to the breaking point and then some more. See what you're really made of."

The inside of the booth was plush and posh, red velvet interior with a smooth tiled floor and a drain set right in the middle. Two hoses hung from the ceiling, one stained brown, the other yellow. In the center stood Kizzo, grinning sheepishly as the worker tossed the three-year-old catboy on the floor and left.

"And just what the fuck are you doing here?" asked Mera.

Kizzo grinned harder. "I wormed my way out of Intake and, uh, anticipated your arrival."

"So you stalked us," Daddy said.

The tiger blushed, scratching the back of his head. "Well, fuck, I mean... I want to see where he ends up," he said, gesturing at Tymu, who blushed and felt adored.

The booth locked down, and IN USE flashed above the doorways.

"Go ahead, then," said Mera, smirking. "Last time I saw you test a boy you treated him like a little princess, all precious and gentle. Hopefully you've grown some balls since then." She took a seat near the wall, and so did Tymu and his dad. The three-year-old was twirling his shaggy blond hair nervously with one hand and twiddling his dick with the other, looking from one person to the next. His eyes rested on Tymu.

Kizzo nodded. "What's your name, kid?" he asked gruffly.

"Uh... buh... Ber--"

"No it's not," he interrupted. "You're #929845. I'll call you Nine for short. Open your mouth, babyslut."

Nine obeyed. His eyes were big with fear. Kizzo picked him up with one arm, bringing him up to the brown-stained tube and fitting it snugly in his little mouth. His expression crumpled at the taste of bitter sewage, cocklet softening immediately.

Mera folded her arms and got comfortable. "The first test is to see how good a Toilet you'd make. Toilets are boys specifically designed to choke down the shit, piss, puke, and general waste of strangers. Usually we sell them to malls, y'know, so they get lots of traffic, and they get strapped down in a stall, mouth locked open, and left there for a day or so. Janitors come and clean them out, shove a couple toilet brushes down their filthy holes and twist 'em, but other than that they have to wallow in filth until they die."

Kizzo flipped a switch and a violent rush of diarrhea strewn with muddy shit-chunks came down the tube and pumped straight into Nine's mouth, making him spasm with disgust. "That's it," the tiger whispered in his soft ear, rubbing the toddler's expanding belly. "Swallow it. Big gulps, there we go... come on, don't let it overflow. I don't have to feed the whole tube down your throat, do I? No, you're a good toilet. You want to taste it, I know you do."

Tymu watched with fascination as the kittyslut's stomach grew bigger and bigger, until finally the sewage forced its way through his intestines and exploded out his lower cockhole, pooling and running down the drain to undoubtedly get re-digested by another Toilet somewhere. Nine's nose started dribbling with excess shit, and some even leaked out his ears. Finally, once he'd been guzzling for at least a minute, Kizzo let the poor slut down and flicked off the power for the tube.

The three-year-old dropped to all fours and puked hard. Thick logs of shit bulged his throat as they came back up, and more than once he had to bite off a too-big piece stuck halfway out his mouth and swallow some back down just to puke it up again. He looked pitiful, disgusting, and absolutely adorable.

Kizzo shrugged. "Eh. Three stars, maybe. Let's try piss. Maybe he handles the liquids better."

After getting all the sludge washed out of him with a steaming hot full-body enema of pee from the yellow tube, the tyke was barely breathing. He made dirty, rhythmic gurgling sounds instead, his lungs probably half-full of strangers' waste. Nine couldn't even move without his whole body sloshing.

Mera shook her head. "Wow. Absolutely pathetic."

Kizzo cringed in agreement. "Well, little guy, we know where your weakness lies... but I'm certain we can still find your strength." After stomping on his fat tummy and laughing as the shit and piss splurted out of both ends like a miniature filth fountain, Kizzo looked to his audience.

"Wanna help out with Bimbo testing?"

Mera, Daddy, and Tymu all leapt down from their spot in excitement and surrounded the barely conscious cocksleeve as it choked and gasped on the dirty tile floor. Mera picked Nine up and placed him in a little cubby set into the wall-- Tymu hadn't noticed that before-- and a little sliding door came down over him as Mera pressed a button labelled SISSIFY.

Pop. Sploooop. Whizz. SmoooooooooooooooooooOOOOOO-- DING.

_ _ Nine re-emerged a pretty little bimbo, tear-stained face all painted up with mascara and lipstick and heavy blush, clad in a miniskirt and nothing else. As Mera grabbed the toddlercunt by his new ponytail and threw him squealing onto the floor, Tymu noticed the back of his skirt said FUCK MY BRAINS OUT.

"Bimbos are boys that get sold as professional entertainers," Mera explained, casually shoving four fingers from each hand up Nine's ass and yanking in opposite directions, giving them all a view of his cute little shit-stained colon. "After we find your talents here-- and believe me, there aren't many-- you get sent off to the training facilities. There are some courses that every whore has to take, and others which are specific to your job, like Toilet or Bimbo or whatever. It's a lot less actual 'training' and a lot more body modification, to be honest. We break your gag reflexes so you puke if anyone so much as pops their cockhead into your mouth, remove some pesky organs so your can take dickmeat up your ass and out your mouth more easily-- standard procedures. Bimbos are the second-most broken after those lovely slabs of Fuckmeat, but it's definitely not as simple as just sitting there and chewing shit all day like Toilets. We still want the Bimbos to be able to talk and walk a little bit, you know, so you can at least serve the customer without making them get up and trudge over to your worthless asses, but don't worry, they still get properly destroyed-- the finishing touch on all of our exports are some mental mods. Also standard. We'll see that later."

Tymu was so enraptured by her speech that he'd hardly noticed her slipping three feet of throbbing, ovine cock up the babycunt's ass. Organs or not, she made room... her cockhead was throbbing hard inside his tiny mouth, the tip just visible past those pretty pink lips. Nine struggled hard now, eyes unfocused and watering as Mera grabbed both his arms and started pulling him down even harder on her massive dick, ramming it in until his bubbly boybutt pressed up against her bowling-ball nuts and her soft tits squashed up against his back. Kizzo and Daddy pushed their cocks up to the kitten's nose, letting their precum drench his sinuses and soak into his brain.

"How's he feel?" Kizzo asked. Mera shrugged. "I've had tighter. His squriming is decent though, he's really got a nice gyration. And I can feel his little heart beating against my cock. That's a cute touch. You don't get that with the chubbier fucksleeves."

Kizzo's barbed feline cock was fully erect now, standing proud at fifteen inches. He was nothing compared to his boss, but that didn't seem to embarrass him; hell, Tymu's dad was three inches shorter. Size doesn't matter, it's about how you use it!

And Kizzo used it well. He scooched in next to Mera, ramming his dick up beside hers until finally it popped in and distended the toddlerslut's ass even harder. Nine's mascara was running making him look like a true two-cent buttslut picked up off the street as he cried and squeaked desperately, his ass ripping every time Kizzo pulled out and gaping harder every time Mera thrusted in. The group rape lasted almost twenty minutes, and by the time Mera had finally cum (she pulled back just to make sure the underaged cutie got a couple spurts in his mouth) Nine was lifeless. None of them had noticed or particularly cared when he'd suffocated.

Kizzo gave him CPR like it was a chore, until finally Nine's eyelashes fluttered open and he puked up a gallon of sticky cum. Tymu, who until now had just been stroking himself fervently, tugged on Daddy's arm. "Can I do something to him?" he asked.

"Sure," Daddy replied with a shrug. "But don't make Mr. Kizzo do CPR twice."

"Naw, I just wanna..." Tymu trailed off, standing above the kitty, who looked up at him with pleading eyes. Tymu squatted and gently moved the toddler's head face-down in the puddle of cum and shit, and then he stood up and brought one of his little footpaws down on the back of the slut's head. Everyone shook their heads and felt proud of Tymu as he stomped Nine's face into the cum-puddle over and over again, until finally the white turned pink with blood and its little button nose snapped with a tiny krtch.

"Now we match!" Tymu said. :3

Indeed, Nine had all of Tymu's injuries: black eye, bruised face, bloody nose... well, broken nose, but same thing really!

"Lookit!" he said, turning to each adult with a huge grin. "Doesn't he look cuter now? Doesn't he?"

"He does," Mera admitted, "but I forgot to mention... we don't injure any of the Bimbos. Customers like their boys to be pretty and clean, not all busted up already. They wanna eat the whole kitty sandwich, you know? Not one that's been half-eaten already."

Tymu frowned, feeling stupid again. "But... so that means... oh gosh, I'm sorry..."

"Hey," Kizzo said, kneeling and putting a hand on Tymu's shoulder like a baseball coach as the poor boy sniffled. "There's always some way to use you, no matter how broken you are. Beat-up, paralyzed-- even in death, you will always make a bunch of people happy. So don't worry. You did a good job!"

Daddy and Mera laughed at Kizzo's kindness, incredulous at his wimpiness. Nine groaned, his miniskirt stained with filth and cum, and even though the FUCK MY BRAINS OUT was hardly legible, it still made Mera realize something:

"I know! We still got one more test, don't we? Why don't we just skip the rest of this one and see how nice a piece of Fuckmeat this kid makes?"

Daddy blinked. "I gotta say, I forgot that job even had testing. Isn't the whole point to make them into immobile cocksocks? How could a boy have a talent for that?"

Mera's eyes darkened and she grinned. "It's a bit of an inside joke, actually... the testing makes them talented. That's why it's usually saved for last."

Tymu peered curiously at her as she once again picked up the near-dead three-year-old effortlessly, her muscular arm bulging, and slipped her cock up his gaping ass like she might put on a sock. She only let it penetrate about half of his tiny body this time, giving his head a few rough slaps to make sure his upper half could wobble back and forth. Then she sat criss-cross applesauce on the muddy tiles, and beckoned Daddy and Kizzo over.

"The miniskirt doesn't say that for nothing," she said. Tymu realized what was going to happen and almost peed himself with excitement.

Daddy followed Kizzo's lead, watching as the tiger gripped the toddlerslut's ponytail and rubbed his cockhead up against the soft kitty ear, smearing precum all over its cute tufts. Then Tymu's father did the same to the opposite ear, tenderly rubbing his leaky tip up against the canal, applying a bit more pressure.

"On the count of three," said Kizzo. "One... two... two and a half..."

Mera slapped him.

"Ow! Okay! Okay! On 'Break him.' One... two... three... BREAK HIM!"

Both rammed their dicks into the toddler's brain, touching tips inside, and Tymu saw the light in Nine's eyes flicker away. Mera lovingly stroked his bloated tummy, masturbating through a layer of kittyflesh as her coworker and friend ear-raped the little cunt into retardation. Before long, Nine's eyes and nose were leaking precum, and Tymu dashed forward to lick it from his expressionless face.

"Mmmf.. mmrph... isn't he gonna die...?" he asked childishly.

"Not for good," Mera explained patiently while she rutted the toddler's asscunt. "Like I said, we do some mental modifications at the very end. We'll Frankenstein the little fucker and rebuild his brain to keep his body mostly functioning... but after this he's not gonna be able to speak or think or really experience anything again. Boys, I hate to be a pain, but would you mind pissing in the kid's head? I find that really gives them the edge in the market, you know. Burns away any personality they might possibly keep."

Daddy and Kizzo obliged with pleasure, relaxing and emptying their bladders inside Nine's skull, staining his grey matter yellow. Just like the precum, it jetted from his tear ducts and his nostrils, and Tymu was right there to slurp it up.

With that, the three-year-old was branded _FUCKMEAT_on his left buttcheek and _KITTYSLUT INC._on his right. His twitching body was thrown into a pile with twenty others, equally destoyed, and the workers loaded him onto a cart and away to his future: a life as a truly mindless cocksleeve.

"Oh," said Mera. "The slabs of Fuckmeat always go to the Port-a-hole companies, the guys who set up little cockhole stations like pay phones everywhere. You've seen 'em. What's the rate right now, Kizzo? Ten cents an hour? Pretty cheap, I know, but customers are smart these days. They know how worthless you fuckers are."

With that, Kizzo waved goodbye again, scouting out an even younger boy-- hardly older than one year-- for the next round of testing, and Mera, Tymu and his father left the Sorting room behind them and headed at once to the employee lounge, exhausted.

~

The lounge was more like a miniature restaurant than anything.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" asked an eight-year-old. He was dressed in an adorable waitress outfit, short-cut dress showing off his little cockbulge beneath a pair of pee-stained panties.

"I'll have a beer, and my son will have the pink lemonade cocktail," said Daddy. Tymu giggled, feeling spoiled... his dad loved to get him plastered and watch all his stupid antics. And Daddy always told him he was at his best passed out on the bathroom floor and coated with puke. He couldn't count the number of times he'd gotten sloshed at a party and woken up with some random drunkard raping him.

"I'm not thirsty," said Mera. "But I could go for some appetizers. Could I get the roast veal?"

"Okedoke," said their waiter. "Free of charge, ma'am."

"It better be, or I'm eating you," she snarled. The waiter blushed and bowed, departing.

They all sat in lush armchairs, right next to the crackling fire. The table was polished smooth, perfectly clean. Tymu's drink came first, then Daddy's beer. The seven-year-old alcoholic sipped greedily at the fruity cocktail, feeling cuter by the second as he chugged it down. "Wow," said Mera. "You're a thirsty kittycunt, aren't you?"

Daddy smiled with pride, casually groping Tymu's smooth ears. "Yeah, he knows what's good for him. Or, what makes him even more dumb... which is good for everyone."

Tymu polished the cocktail off with a rapturous "Aahhhh!" and leaned back on his chair, spreading his legs to show the whole lounge his furry genitals. Mera started talking to Daddy about something business-related, casually taking the little umbrella from Tymu's drink and shoving it down his urethra, which made him squeal. No one paid any attention, since the whole place was already echoing with the moans and shrieks of catboys anyway.

Once his dickie was good and bloody, Mera yanked the umbrella out and sucked it clean. "So, anyway," she said, "I told him: if we revamp the Toilets and add the porcelain casing thing Whoremart is doing, it's just gonna look like a cheap knockoff. I told him we gotta come up with our own way to toilet-ize them, like grafting a seat onto their mouth or something. That's money, though. Money, money, money. You wouldn't be keen to invest again, would you...?"

Daddy nodded, clearly lost in thought and not listening. Mera gave him up as a lost cause and turned back to Tymu, leaning in close. The birthday boy could smell her distinct sheep odour, and of course the undertones of sweat and waste and all those other delicious scents. "Did you like seeing that three-year-old broken?" she asked, her voice low.

"Yeah," Tymu replied. She reached down and started molesting his cocklet again, trying to wiggle her pinkie finger down his injured urethra. With her free hand she stroked his left ear. Tymu shivered.

"You ever want someone to fuck your brains? I bet your ears are tight."

"Mhmm," Tymu replied. He could hardly think... the alcohol was starting to take effect, and her pinkie slipped all the way in now... she started finger-fucking his cock, and her other fingers worked their way into his ear canal.

"How's that feel?" she asked. "You want me to gape them a little bit? I won't hurt you... I just want to get you ready, if you really want to be ear-fucked. I know your dad well. He's not one to leave any holes un-fucked."

Tymu could only half-mewl in pain before she kissed his mouth and popped a finger all the way into his ear, putting pressure on his ear drum and wiggling it hard to open the tiny fuckhole up. Tymu tried to look over to his Daddy to see if he was enjoying the show-- that was the most important thing!-- but Mera grabbed him by his chin and made him look at her.

"Don't. He doesn't care. You know how many kids your dad's been through? You're number twenty-two." She finally pulled her fingers out, coated with blood and earwax, and shoved a couple in his mouth to clean them off. "Don't get comfortable."

The waiter returned. Now that Tymu could look over, he saw his Daddy was busy ogling a nearby table full of boys. A school field trip, maybe? All of them were gagged and stuffed full of buttplugs, and their teacher was going around to each one, removing the gag, and pushing some sloppy mess of food down their throats... Tymu was a little jealous.

The roast veal turned out to be a baby catboy, chubby, round, and glazed to a nice shiny brown; a fat, juicy apple was stuck in its little mouth. They'd clearly had to break its jaw to get it in there... well, maybe it was already broken from something else. Mera gently chopped its cocklet off and chewed that up first while Tymu watched with fascination.

"You're not drunk enough," Daddy said, grabbing Tymu's throat and plugging his half-finished beer into his son's mouth upside-down, forcing him to chug it. After he slurped down every drop, Daddy pushed the bottle down his throat too, raping it softly but working the bottle deeper with each push until Tymu finally swallowed the whole thing. It lodged in his throat, of course, choking him and coloring his face a pretty blue, but with a swift punch to his neck the bottle shattered and carved up his insides. Tymu could feel himself bleeding, and the pain blinded him, but he said "Thank you, Daddy" through a throatful of glass anyway.

"How's that veal taste, M--" Daddy started, but...

Mera had finisher her meal impossibly fast. She blinked. "What?" The only thing left on the plate was a tiny skull and a few ribs. She burped, picking her teeth, giggling at Tymu's adorable expression as he fought to swallow the last few pesky pieces of the bottle.

The waiter was back, eyeing Tymu with jealousy. "Ummm... so... the bill..."

"I thought you said free of charge?" Mera barked.

"For you, ma'am, yes, but the manager told me--"

"Fuck what the manager told you. I'm the foresheep, and this man here is Sorel Kismet. Ring any bells in that cum-soaked brain of yours? He basically paid for this whole fucking lounge. Without him, you'd be heading straight to Intake right now, instead of working this cushy little job. But I bet you couldn't live without that slutty costume, huh..."

The eight-year-old kitty gulped. "Um-- I understand-- pleasure to meet you sir, really, but--"

Tymu realized that the waiter was trapped. Either the boy pissed Mera off and made them pay, or didn't get the money and pissed off his manager... either way he was probably going to get raped hard, but before he could turn away from the three feet of dangling sheepcock to go face his manager's lesser evil, Mera stood and snatched the bill from his hands, flipped him over, and crammed it up his quivering ass.

A couple people turned to watch while she laid into the poor cub, first fisting him violently, double-fisting him, and then standing up and delivering a full kick to his ass, her foot going right inside. She kept cunt-punting him until he was in tears, hole gaping, while others laughed and cheered her on, and for a finishing touch she squatted down, pressed her anus to his, and released a mammoth log of shit directly inside him, filling him from the bottom up until the little toiletwhore looked pregnant. With that, she stood him up, smacked his ass, and watched him waddle pathetically back to the kitchen, panties staining with brown as the sludge leaked from his abused kittycunt. The sounds of the manager yelling at him resounded shortly after, followed by howls and mewlings as he undoubtedly got raped even harder.

"Well, that was relaxing," she said. "Shall we go on to the next stop then?"

Daddy finally perked up, looking interested for the first time in hours. His excitement was imitated threefold on Tymu's face, who hopped up and down on his seat and shouted:

"Let's goooo!~"

{Well, there you are, folks. I did say it was going to be depraved, didn't I? :3 The next part should probably be the last... I think! Once again, comments are adored if you'd like to leave one. <3 }