A single-elimination combat demonstration

You are awakened early the next morning by four orderlies and Miss Swift.

"Good morning," she says, looking you over. "I hope you are well."

"My breasts hurt," you say. "I need to feed my pups."

"Later," she says. "Come with us."

The orderlies get you to your feet and walk you out of the enclosure. Once beyond the door they drape a robe over you and lead you from the medical annex into a tunnel that connects it to the main Paisley building. The halls are echoing with the voices of dozens of girls, full of excitement and promise. They stare at you as you are walked past them. You must look terrible with your hair all dirty and your face breaking out in pimples from bathing only in the small pool in the enclosure.

Which is exactly why you are taken to a locker room. Miss Swift hurries along the girls in their white cotton panties, forcing them to dress so fast they probably get their plaid skirts and sweaters on backwards. You are given soap and access to a shower. You moan as the hot water caresses your body. It has been months since you've had a hot shower. You scrub away the filth and clean your hair thoroughly. Soap streams over your milky tits and your pump-stretched nipples. You lather your bush and clean away the grime. The orderlies wait outside.

For clothing they have brought you a pair of white cotton panties, no bra, and a grey training one-piece. It is a normally tight-fitting garment that covers your limbs and body and zips up from groin to neck. Unfortunately for you, your tits are so huge you can't zip it past them. You button the collar button so that your one-piece sags open around your immense cleavage. Your fat nipples are as engorged as your breasts and stand out in pornographic detail beneath the grey material.

"You look fit," says Miss Swift, giving you a once-over. "Come along. The class is waiting."

You can hear them announcing your arrival through the door. The orderlies step into the chamber with you. It's one of the training theaters - a glass enclosed pit with a sandy floor that is surrounded by rows of seating. Bright spotlights shine down upon you, blinding you with their glare and making the students filling the tiers of seats completely anonymous. You only know they are there by the soft murmur of their voices.

The orderlies back out of the chamber and you are sealed inside. It's about twenty-five feet to a side. The sand is powdery fine beneath your toes.

"Our volunteer," begins the voice of the announcer, "will be facing off against our zoological specimens. This is not a simulation. If the volunteer is defeated she may be badly hurt or otherwise adversely effected. Combat will continue with opponents until she has exhausted our schedule or she has been defeated. She will begin with the easiest of opponents. Prepare to meet her foe."

A hush goes over the audience as the doors on the opposite side of the chamber begin to slide open.

"A cave goblin!" shouts the announcer.

Standing not even four-feet, the grey-skinned cave goblin is hardly a specimen to inspire fear. It wanders out into the enclosure, its over sized head resting atop its narrow neck shielded from the bright lights by a clawed hand over its face. Its limbs are feeble and its body is skinny. Nevertheless, when it sees you across from it in the chamber it raises its claws and hisses at you. It is clearly preparing to attack.