Acceptance

He was filled with optimism for his new life when he awoke at five that spring morning and showered and brushed his teeth and as he did so he parted the curtains and looked out the bathroom window. The middle aged woman next door was in her own bathroom, which faced his, but perhaps she did not think anyone could be awake this early, for she had not drawn her curtains. In the half light before dawn he could see her quite clearly. He had spoken to her once or twice and she had been very friendly to him, almost motherly, but now what he felt towards her was scarcely filial, for she was wearing only a tee shirt, a worn, sagging one that left little to the imagination and now she turned and looked at the mirror and pouted, then suddenly pulled off the tee shirt. She was wearing nothing else, and the sight of her ripe body side on started him to lengthen. He was wearing pyjama pants himself and nothing else, and he now dropped them to the floor and took his tool and began pumping it slowly as he watched, fascinated. The woman's tits hung down over her sagging belly and her hair was a peppery grey, cut just below the jaw line. Her face was craggy, but all this meant nothing to his dick which was getting stiffer and stiffer. Now, to his surprise she began to finger herself, legs apart, hips thrust forward, her free hand playing with one of her big brown nipples. At this critical point a voice called out from somewhere in the house and the woman stopped what she was doing, gave a little shrug of frustration, and left the bathroom, carrying the tee shirt. His last glimpse of her was of her large , quite firm buttocks swaying in a most exciting way as she disappeared. He cursed under his breath, pulled his pyjama pants back on and finished brushing his teeth.

Later, still a little engorged, he put on his new white overalls, and his rubber soled canvas boots, and began to feel less randy, for these were solid and somehow professional, an earnest of good things to come, of his new role. He ate no breakfast for he was too excited and left the hostel with the other factory staff, similarly garbed and armoured for the day's challenges.

The air was cool, the sky blue and the sun slanting its first yellow rays across the old houses, the trees, the wide streets of the little town as the bus rumbled out onto the old highway and chuffed off across the rolling hills to the Factory, a cluster of white buildings off to the right.

John had been lucky. Jobs like this were few and far between and many of his contemporaries (he was only twenty) were destined to spend the rest of their lives in dead end positions. He however had a good pass mark for his school leaving certificate and had completed two years at a technical college. And now, Katanning.

The four of them climbed down from the bus once it had pulled up in front of the Admin building. He admired the close cropped lawn, still damp with dew, and the rose bushes, as he and two other new recruits tramped up the gravel path with a steady crunch.

The stern and matronly little woman who met them in the waiting room wore a pants suit with the front unbuttoned and a generous amount of freckled cleavage showing. She had long, lush hair whose colour perhaps had come out of a bottle, but with her upturned nose and her warm brown eyes, John felt a sudden warmth for her. She noticed the way his glance lingered on her exposed melons and grinned at him, but said nothing. Instead she ushered them in to Mr William's office and stood behind them. John had held back a little and the woman patted him on the bum.

"Don't be shy dear," she said. "Go forward a bit so he can see you." To his surprise she stayed behind him and kept her hand, unseen by the others, on his buttock. Gently stroking it. John had great difficulty concentrating on the Manager's words, but finally focussed enough to hear that he was in charge of this particular plant and to note that he radiated a serious and fatherly confidence.

"Hullo, boys," he said, shaking their hands in his bear-like grip. "Welcome aboard. You will find that we run a tight ship here, but that a tight ship is a happy ship. I genuinely believe that when you have rules and you follow them, everyone is happier." He continued in this way and John's mind wandered and he reflected that in fact the establishment of the new Rural Factories (like this abattoir) as they were called, had been a godsend to the nation. Now everyone had work, self respect, spending money, and Australia could start to compete with the big Asian economies to our north, whose workers were paid little more than their food. Not that we would descend to slave labour, because we did not need to. We all worked. We all shared the burden. Old age pensioners worked for their pensions. Handicapped people worked for their handicapped pension. Mothers with children all worked from the first year of their child's life and the land was now dotted with crèches.

Now the manager was shaking them by the hand and handing them over to the matronly little woman who had ushered them in. She was to take them on a quick guided tour of the complex before they began their first shift.

She showed them the Offloading Facility, where a big semi-trailer was currently backed up to the Yards and the rather scruffy people inside were shuffling down the ramp into the holding pens. The old post and rails of the original Abattoir, as it had been, had been reinforced with chain link fences that kept the new arrivals from wandering away and getting into trouble in the rest of the complex. "For their own safety," their guide explained, though to tell the truth, this lot looked too depressed to do anything, safe or otherwise.

One of the other new-chums asked a question as they walked round to the big white building that abutted onto the yards. They were glad to leave the new arrivals because, to tell the truth, they were a bit whiffy. Urine, excrement, stale bodies, an indication of their total lack of self respect, thought John.

"Oh," said their guide. "The usual lot. Men who refused to work, ladies of the night, drug runners, suspected terrorists." She grimaced, a little embarrassed to have to talk about these unsavoury things. John thought that she would have looked quite nice if she did not smile.

The new arrivals had begun moving up a ramp to a small door in the side of the building, into which they disappeared, one at a time, for processing. A good shower for starters, as John knew.

Later, as they all sat in the canteen having morning tea with the other workers, a hundred of so on this shift, John ate his complementary sausage roll, smothered in tomato sauce, as was his habit, and gazed out at the lawns, the clean new buildings, the flower lined gravel paths. A regular and distant pop, pop, now came from the building next to the Offloading Facility. Hon had not found enough room on the long table with the others so he sat alone on a deserted table. Their guide came up and sat next to him. They had their backs to the wall and in any case, no one else was looking at them, so when the woman again placed an affectionate hand on the top of his bum, no one saw. He looked at her in surprise.

"Like the sausage roll?" she said, smiling warmly at him this time. He nodded. "Made entirely here, you know. They're one of our biggest exports, though I prefer a sausage. A long hard sausage, eh?" She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye and he nodded and blushed slightly, for to tell the truth he was getting worked up and starting to want this woman, but did not know what to do about it. I mean, propositioning women these days was frowned on by the law, and he could not afford to lose this new job. The problem was solved for the moment though, because she placed a hand on his thigh where the others could not see it.

"Would you like to see the processing?" she said. "It's quite exciting." He turned and looked at her and felt himself drowning in the brown eyes. "Not with the others," she added. "They have to start work now, but I can requisition you to help me carry some files from the old office. Want to help?"

He swallowed and just then a siren went and she got up and was all business, directing the other three lads to various parts of the plant and then telling John in crisp tones that he had to follow her.

They went down a long corridor leading from the canteen and up some stairs, then out onto a walkway which looked down onto the big processing hall. There was a group of some ten women, all in shapeless gowns and looking as though they had just come out of the showers, which they had. Several men in white overalls had them confined in one of the pens, and they were clustered against the iron bars of a metal fence. One of the men spotted John and his companion and waved up at them.

"Come on," said the woman. "This bit's fun," and she took his hand in her hot little grip and led him along the walkway till they were almost over the women. Now the leader of the men said something and the women reluctantly took off their shifts, helped with a rough hand here and there.

"The men are selecting the ones who will go to the state brothels in Perth. The others will be kept here for a while. See if they are any good in the R and R block."

"R and R?" he said, confused. He turned to look at her and she took both his hands in his.

"For sex," she whispered hoarsely, but then a cry sounded from below. Six of the women were being made to put their gowns on again and being pushed off through a door. The other four were still naked and were being distributed among the men, about two men for each woman. "The ones that went through the door are the lucky ones. They're pretty and will go to Perth," said the woman.

"And the four down there?"

The woman shrugged and moved closer to him, putting an arm round his waist. "Watch," she said.

The men now took off their overalls and one by one the women were made to lie down on the floor, on their backs, and soon all four were being tupped by four of the men, as the other men, their clothing shed, stood around and pumped their cocks. Then it was their turn. The women did not protest too much, for they knew they had no choice.

"They know that if they do not perform, they will be Processed like the others. Even so..." She now undid her blouse and took his hand, slipped it down on her tit. He squeezed convulsively and she sighed.

"Even so?" he prompted, nuzzling her neck and inhaling the perfume of her skin.

"Well, sooner or later they will all be Processed. This way they get a reprieve. Come on. " The scene below seemed to be exciting her even more for she almost dragged him off along the walkway, away from the faint cries of arousal that sounded below, into a disused office.

"Used to be the old manager's office for the abattoir," she grunted, shutting the door and starting to take off her clothes. Sure enough there were shelves and desks and in one corner, a mattress. John, now very excited, pulled and tugged at his overalls and soon was as naked as the woman. She had long, goat tits with thick nipples and large aureoles, and her belly bulged and sagged. Her snatch was a thick mat of glossy curls and when she lay on her back on the mattress he saw that her thick piss lips were upstanding and wet with arousal.

"Quick," she said. "Just fuck me! Poke it in and fuck me, fella!" John, who was now quite erect and aroused, fell between her muscular little legs and fed himself into her surprisingly tight twat, began pumping in and out as she clawed his body and dug her heels into his back, then she bucked up beneath him and gave a long wail of climax and he rammed in and shot his load in her as she spasmed around him.

When he came home that evening at sunste and walked up to the front door, another surprise awaited him. The matron next door came trotting out her own door and over to him. She had obviously been waiting for him.

"Are you busy?" she said, standing close. he looked down at her and saw that under the loosely tied dressing gown she appeared to be wearing nothing. "Let's go inside," she added, grinning at him. "And perhaps you can finish what you began this morning." He gaped at her. "I saw you in the bathroom," she added.

When they had finished, they lay in his darkened bedroom for for a while, gently fondling each other.

"Are you free tomorrow after work?" she said, gripping his half engorged organ and pulling on it, milking it.

All in all, he thought later, as he made himself a belated meal, his first day at work had not been bad at all.