This is a WSA2000 classic story from Aug. 2007 (Usenet era).
It fits in the current canon. However, it’s set in 2007, before both the 2016 and 2024 amendments were passed, therefore taxes and prices are not inline with current rates. This story is set before the sex ratio was retconned upward.
“Hey, Josh, can you work the front desk today?” the boss asks as I come in the back door.
Crap. I know we have a couple of live roasts today, I’d much rather do that, but when he asks, well, it’s not really optional “Ah, Sure, Incoming, or sales?”
Please be incoming. Sales sucks large rocks
“Incoming, of course. Having you in sales is a Bad Thing”. I could hear the capitals.
I clock in and walk up to the front of the store. There is a group, 8 or 9 high school seniors, standing in a little cluster by the door. Of course, I could be wrong, but they were all wearing school shirts, with “08” on them. Given the time of year, this makes them seniors.
“May I help you ladies?”
A red head, who I would give a “Grade A” to, came up to the desk. “We are from Dutch Hall. They just started a new rule, that you have to either be a student slave or have a valid meat grade to be in any of the school royalty elections. We want to be the Queen of Summer, so we need graded. Ms. Walters, the dean of girls, says that the school has an account, so it wouldn’t cost us anything, apart from time and some of our pride.”
I checked the computer, and she was correct, Dutch Hall prep-school had a standing contract for doing meat grading. I noticed that the school had requested the computerized grading, not manual, which was fine with me. Not as much fun, but faster. I suspect that one to many grades had been adjusted to the grader getting a blow job. “OK girls, I need you to strip, but keep your school ID in your left hand. Form a line by the wall, please.”
Without a word, all 8 stripped down and got meekly in line. Why weren’t girls like that when I was in high school?
“OK, one at a time, step forward and stand on the scale and scanner, then hand me your ID. Once you have been graded, you may put your clothes back on, however you need to leave your upper left thigh exposed.”
The red head, who seemed to be the leader of the group, asked, “Why is that?”
“Because by state law, I have to apply a meat grade stamp there, with the current date on it.”
The computerized grading system was a combination scale, high resolution digital camera and laser scanner, all of which feed into a computer. The software in the computer determined the meat grade based on weight and height, body shape, breast size, body or facial blemishes, body and facial symmetry. It’s good, and it comes up with what I would grade about 90% of the time. It has problems with girls that work out a lot, who weigh more than they should, given that muscle weight is higher than fat weight. Looking over this set, this will be a problem.
Margarita Howe – Red head (the leader), Grade A-LRE
Cheryl Garver – Blonde, Grade B
Eva Cotto – Redhead. Grade A
Denise Usher – Brunette. Grade A-LRE*
Shelia Dewberry – Redhead, Grade A
Ella King – Blonde, Grade A
Esther Halstead – Blonde, Grade A
Sheila Jorgenson – Brunette, Grade A
None of the girls got dressed, waiting on the grading stamp. Several customers, on the sales side of the store, were looking at them and pointing.
The LRE* means that I was to manually evaluate here, for a possible “A Prime” rating. It was a toss up. I called her over. “Denise, you have the highest rating of all of you, you even could be rated as A Prime. Do you want that? Let me warn you that if you do, there will be a strong push to having you converted.” She looked, well, mixed. I could tell she was excited about having the highest rating, which I understand, it basically said she was the hottest chick in the group, but she also looked a bit scared. “Conversion” does that to women nowadays. Particularly in meat slave stores. She nodded, “make me prime…” “OK, I’ll do it. You do understand that when I do it, a notice will be sent to your legal guardian, explaining your status, and your sale price, OK?” She just nodded.
“OK girls, line up, I’ll stamp you, and you can go.” They did so, then started to leave, giving Cheryl and Denise crap, as teenage girls do, calling Cheryl “plain Jane” and Denise “meat-girl”.
Shortly after they left, a couple walked in. He was, well, tweaking. She was, at best, grade B. I could guess what was going to happen.
“Ah, dude, can I sell her? I need the cash, and I’ve got the stuff you need…”
Like I thought. However, I would bet 100 bucks that he was tweaking on meth even as he spoke, “Sure, sir you can sell her, but I’ve got to warn you, if you don’t pass the drug screen, we are required to report you to the DEA.” This, of course, was crap, but I couldn’t buy her if he was on drugs. Didn’t want to start the process if I knew it was a waste of time.
“Oh, well, maybe later then…”
About 30 minutes later, a blonde walks in. No, she bounced in. The only way I could describe her was “bubble headed bleach blonde”
“Hi! My name is Ashlee and I want to be graded!”
“OK, I need to see some ID, and $100 please”. She pulled out her driver’s license “Ashlee Christofferse” 22, free resident of Oklahoma.
I swiped her license to autofill the data into the scanner. “OK, Ms. Christofferse, please strip and step on to the scale.” She giggled and pulled off her tee shirt, kicked off her shoes, then pulled down her shorts. “panties too?” “Afraid so.” She giggled and pulled them off as well. I could tell from looking at her, she was going to get a “Grade A” and I would have given her a LRE as well. I triggered the scanner, and sure enough, 15 seconds later the workstation reports that she is Grade A, with a LRE. I inked up the stamp, “Let me stamp you. You were graded at grade A, with a Live Roaster Endorsement.”
She giggled, “Is that good?” “Pretty much means you’re hot, but you knew that. So, want to be converted?”
It’s standing company policy to ask walk-ins hat want to be graded if they want to be converted if the rate at “A” or higher.
She giggled, “Sure, why not?”
Because it means you will be a spit roast this morning, I thought to myself, but didn’t say anything. I don’t understand women sometime. I told the computer to print off a volunteer conversion form for Ashlee. “Take this to a notary and bring it back. It’s good for 7 days. There is a notary next door. She will do it for two dollars.”
Yeah, a notary that has a contract with us. Ashlee giggled, picked up her purse, but not her clothing and walked out the door.
About 5 minutes later, she returned. She bounced up to the counter and handed me the form with a flourish. “Convert me!” I handed her a sample cup, “I need to run a test on you first. Please fill this to the line.” “OK, with what?”
Is this girl for real? “Pee in it. There is a ladies room behind that door.” I said, pointing. She bounced off. ‘Got to be high’ I thought as she left. While she was gone, I pulled up her record, swiped the bar-code off her request for conversion, and scanned it into the system. Assuming her pee test passes, she’s ready to be converted.
Two minutes later, she comes out, moving very slowly, as not to spill the cup. She sets it down, “OK, now what?” “Just wait a second here…” I took an eyedropper full, then sealed the cup. I put the 3 drops on the test card, fully expecting to see that she was on something.
Nope. Clean as a whistle. I put the sample cup in the storage fridge, and put the test card on the workstation’s scanner, scanning the results into the system database. “OK, Slave, please follow me.”
I put the “please wait” sign up on the counter, and lead the slave formerly known as Ashlee back to our processing area.
“So, fresh meat, Joshua”? Steven asked as I brought her back. Not sure why he calls me that, it’s not even my name. Of course, he doesn’t like being called “Steve” either.
“Yep, just converted herself.”
“Grade?”
“A-LRE”
“Good, The want a demo over in sales. Put her on number 3, and process her, if you would, I’m a bit busy.”
Steven was in the process of rendering a Grade B into roasts and steaks. The girls head sitting on the butcher’s table. Ashlee looked at it with wide eyes.
I lead her back to the number three Jessica 3000 “Climb on this, slave”
“OK, what is it?”
“A Jessica 3000”
“Oh.” she said as she got on to it. She was obviously thinking about something, I could tell as I strapped her into it.
“Josh? What is a Jessica 3000”? she asked as I started to slide the spit into her cunt.
“It’s an automatic spitting machine. It takes women and makes them into spit roasts.”
“But I don’t want to be a spit roast! Let me off this! You have to! I’ve got a party tonight!”
I walked around in front of her. “No, you don’t. You’re going to be someone’s roast at a party.” I pushed the “kill” switch.
The Jessica 3000 machines in the back area aren’t set for “public” slow demonstration speed, they run at full speed. Once I push the button, the meat is spitted and gutted within 15 seconds. I watched her face. Looks like she went about 30 seconds before she died, which is about average. I paged sales on the intercom, “Your demo spit is ready”.
Time for lunch.
After lunch, I returned to the front desk. A little after 1:00, a man walks in. “May I help you, sir?”
“Oh, I hope so. I just found out my bitch wife intends to file divorce papers on me. I’d rather not lose half of all I know to that cunt.”
“Well, I should be able to help you, assuming, of course, you both meet the state slaving criteria. May I have both your names and social security numbers, please?”
“Sure Neil Cracraft, and the cunt’s name is Allyson”.,
I check the state database. Allyson is shown as being free, with Neil as having right of conversion. She’s 25, married 3 years. No flags, so either she hasn’t talked to an attorney yet, or her attorney is an idiot because the first thing a woman filing for divorce should do is file an abuse complaint against her husband. Nothing listed. Allyson is going to have a bad day.
“Well, sir, I have good news for you. Assuming you can pass a drug screen, it seems you can convert your wife. You do understand that all conversion done here at Hill’s Slaves and Fine Meat is to meat status, don’t you?”
Neil nodded. “Yeah, I went by Lilly’s first. They don’t do enslave to snuff conversions there, sent me here. I want the bitch on a stick.”
“Well, sir, let us start, please fill this sample cup up to the red line. There is a restroom behind that door.”
A few moments later, Neil returns. I check his sample, and he is clean. After entering the data in to the database, I turned to him. “OK, this is how it works here. We will buy your wife from you, for the express purpose of converting her to meat. You have 2 options for payment. We can pay you our default generic amount, which is $500, or you can be paid on her grade and weight. Of course, we can’t pay based on grade and weight until she is either picked up or you deliver her here. Given that this is a conversion in lieu of divorce, I suspect you will not be able to deliver her here. We charge $75.00 for pickups, anywhere within the city limit of Eastlake, and a mileage fee if outside of Eastlake.”
He thought for a minute. “I’ll take grade and weight. She’s still pretty fucking hot, should be my better option. You can pick her up at Golden Fox tanning. I just dropped her off. She is expecting me to pick her up in an hour or so. She doesn’t know that I know that she is filling.”
Not my problem. I check the status of the trucks on the road, and find one that is both close and has an open transport slot. “OK, sir, I can have her picked up. If you would just sign here and here, we can start her conversion.” Neil signed. “How long before she gets picked up?”
“Just a moment, sir.”
I typed a set of commands into the system, which basically sent an SMS message to the work slave on the closest truck to call office. I got the call within 15 seconds. Amazing what telling the work slaves that missing messages would result in conversion to meat does to response time. After a few minutes, conversation with the work slave and the driver, I have established that they only had one open slot, which I knew, and that they were about 5 minutes from the salon.
“Looks like we should have her here in less an hour.” “I’ll wait”, Neil replied.
Neil went off to our waiting room where we have a video of the various types of snuffing we do here, and a couple of work slaves to blow customers who are waiting for longer periods of time. The slaves there know that if even one customer doesn’t rate their oral skills as at least “high”, they will be in the next version of the torture and snuff videos showing in the waiting room.
After a few minutes, the phone rang. “Hill’s Slave and Meat, may I help you?”
“Ah. yes, my name is Albert Usher, and I’m calling about an email I received about my daughter, Denise Usher.”
“Yes, sir, she was rated this morning as A Prime. I informed her that her legal guardian would be notified. What questions do you have?”
“Well, let’s start with why you graded her.”
“Oh, that’s simple, she wants to run for ‘Queen of the Summer’ at her school, and Dutch Hall requires female royalty candidates to either be student slaves, or have a valid meat grade. Because she is a free woman, she needed to be graded.”
There was a bit of a pause. “So, tell me how many women get an ‘A Prime’ grade?”
“For her age cohort, about one in 50, more or less. For women from 18 to 36, which is the upper age for it, about 1 in 350, in total.”
Longer pause. “I see. Do you really have an outstanding order for her body type?”
“Yes sir, we always have an open order for A Prime bodies. The current high bid for a brunette is, let me see, $2,549.00, plus tax, of course. If you chose to convert her, you would get 70% of that price.”
“I see. If I were to bring Denise down to your store, when would I get payment?”
“We would cut you a check on the spot. If you want cash, it would take an hour or so.”
“And what would Denise be used as?”
I checked the bidder. “It appears the high bid is for ‘High Concept Marketing’, which means, I suspect, that she would be used in some sort of advertisement. Given that they have bought, in the last 180 days, 7 from us, I suspect whatever type of ad they are making would be terminal for her.”
“Excuse me, I didn’t quite follow that.”
“It means she would be killed during the ad, for whatever product or service they are marketing for.”
“I see. What time do you close?”
“5:30 sir”.
As soon as I had hung up with him, the door burst open, and I see Shelia Dewberry being dragged into the store, by an attractive older redheaded woman I took to be her mother. Shelia is wearing a bikini bathing suit, and her meat grade stamp is quite visible on her thigh.
The supposed Mrs. Dewberry arrives at the counter.
“What is the meaning of THIS” she screams, pointing at Shelia’s meat stamp.
“It’s a Grade A meat stamp”
“And why is it on my daughter??”
“Because her school required her either to be a slave student or have a current meat grade to be in the election for ‘Queen of Summer’”
Mrs. Dewberry turned to Shelia and slapped her, hard. “I told you YOU WERE NOT TO DO ANYTHING BUT SUMMER SCHOOL!”
I wonder how pissed she is. Sheila doesn’t have a LRE, but she is still a redhead. I like to see redheads on spits. Let me see what I can do.
“I take it. Mrs. Dewberry, that she has violated a rule of yours?”
“You could say that. She is just out of control…”
“We could help you with that…”
“I don’t know what to do anymore…”
“Convert her. As you know, she has a “Grade A”, so she could make you a nice chunk of change.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that…”
“We also have a home BBQ package. You could convert her and have her spit roasted for a party at your own home.”
“MOM! ”Shelia screams out. “It’s no big deal, all the girls get graded. I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of it. It’s not like I got sex graded again.” Perfect. Just what her hard stressed mother needed to hear.
“AGAIN?” Mrs. Dewberry turned to her daughter, “What do you mean sex graded AGAIN?”
Sheila looked back, somewhat defiant. “Last month, Ella, Sheila J. and I got tested when they had a free one at the mall.”
Hmm… If it were a real test, it would be in the slave database. I check it. “That’s right. I see the record here. She is rated at over 85% on all three tests. 95% on Oral skills.”
Mrs. Dewberry’s face turned as red as her hair. Just as I thought would happen. She turned and faced her daughter, then turned and faced me. “What do I need to sign?”
“MOM!” screamed Sheila, now realizing that her freedom, if not her life, was in danger.
“Do you want to sell her to us, or have her yourself?”
“Oh, I want her for all the neighbors to see. If she can have herself graded, she can have herself used.”
“I see. Do you want her within the week or later? I ask because this makes a difference in the cost, due to the state taxes. If you have her converted to slave status, there is an additional 750 dollar tax if she is processed as meat within 7 days. If you have her converted, but wait at least 8 days to have her processed, well, we have a special for that, with a total cost of $300.00. If you want her done today, or within the week, it would be a grand, more or less.”
Sheila started screaming, “MOTHER, YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” *SLAP,* “Yes, I can. You have pulled your last little stunt, with your friends. I’m going to call their mothers as soon as I get through her, see how they feel about all this.” Mrs. Dewberry turned back to me, “So, I assume I have some papers to sign…” As she said this, Sheila turned and started running towards the door. I did two things. The first was to trigger the door lock, just in case. The second was to pull out the Taser from under the counter, and shoot the fleeing teen with it. She went down like a sack of potatoes. I paged the pickup crew from the back area to come get Sheila. Turning back to her mother. “Yes, there are a few forms for you to fill out, and I’ll need a drug screen sample.” I passed her the sample cup and the freshly printed form. “I’ve set these up for straight conversion. This means that for at least the next week, she will be used as a work slave here. Subsequently, she will be added to our inventory as a possible alternate meat source. For the first 3 days of that time, you will have the right to purchase her as part of that special I told you about. After that time, the flag comes off her file, and she is available on a first come first server basis. If she is purchased by a third party, you will receive 70% of her pre-tax sale price. Now, if you would just sign, and fill this cup to the line. There is a ladies room behind that set of doors”.
She took the papers, looked at them for a moment, then signed. “By signing those, we now have the right to hold your daughter for up to 3 days, pending drug screen, in case there might be an issue with that…”
“Oh, that will not be a problem, young man!” She took the sample cup and soon returned with it filled to the line. As she said, no issues with the drug screen.
“You said that you would use her as a work slave. What does that mean?”
“With her scores, it means, most likely, that she will be used as a suck slave in our waiting area, unless one of the graders decides to use her as a helper.”
“I’m sorry about the commotion she caused, but I really think I did the right thing here…”
Yeah, keep thinking that, lady. Odds are you are going to end up a snuff slave. Seems to be the common result of converting daughters. Many fathers don’t deal well with that. Either way, not my problem, and possibly some extra money.
Neil came out of the waiting area, looking like he had just gotten his rocks off, several times. He staggered up to the counter. “Can I make a deal here?”
“That depends, Mr. Cracraft, on what the deal is.”
“Look, the blonde Kashmir, she’s just great. I want to just do a full up trade, my wife for her…”
“We can do that, however you will be liable for the slave tax, each way. That would work out to three hundred, for the tax, but it might be more, depending on value differential ”
I started the paperwork for the exchange. I printed it out, “This is a conversion, sale, and purchase contract. You basically agree to swap your wife for the Slave known as Kashmir. If there is more than 400 dollars difference in the value of the two slaves, the owner of the lower priced slave must pay the difference.”
“Why $400?” he asked as he signed the papers.
After taking the papers from him, and entering into the database, I explained “That is because the price difference between a Grade A and Grade A-LRE is normally under 400, but A Prime slaves are selling at very high levels. Kashmir is an A with Live Roaster Endorsement, so if your wife is either Grade A or Grade A-LRE, it’s a swap. If she happens to be A-Prime, you get Kashmir and a nice chunk of change.”
Right on schedule, the pickup truck arrived. Because I had sent a message to the driver and his work slave, he decided to bring them in via the front desk.
“Yo! Josh boy! Got that wife from the tanning salon for you, plus, get this, 3 you graded this morning.”
“What?”
He pulled a paper off his clipboard. “I’m quoting here ‘Margarita Howe, Eva Cotto and Esther Halstead, being in violation of several ordinances enacted for public safety, plus a known level of indecency, were converted by order of the Wood Shield public safety court at 2:15, this date’, translation, they were in a car that ran a red light, and none of them had seat belts on. Normally, that is just a fine, but given that they had meat stamps and the arresting officer thought they might have been racing, well, Wood Shield’s traffic courts decided to convert. We happened to be in the area, so we did a pickup. That almost filled us up, what with the farm girls and all. Yo! Cunt face! Go get the wife, I want J-boy here to see what we got. She’s fucking hot. Maybe even Prime hot.” At this, Neil looked up, and turned to me, “Does that mean…”
“Doesn’t mean anything until she is graded. Herbert isn’t a rated grader, so don’t get your hopes up.”
Kathy, aka Cunt face, Herbert’s work slave, returned in a few moments, with Allyson in a transport rack. “Put her on the grader, Kathy”
Kathy pushed the rack into place, and expertly set it up. As work slaves went, she was good, I noticed. I might put in to have her moved to me. She’s far too good to be working for Herbert.
I hit the scan, and sure enough, Allyson was in fact “Grade A, with Live Roaster Endorsement”. I ran her weight through the computer, but I could tell that she was going to be with in a few dollars of Kashmir’s value. I turned to Neil, “If you want to do the exchange, sign the 2nd contract and I’ll void the first contact. If you want to get the cash value, well, we have that on record.” Neil didn’t even think, he just signed. “When can I take Kashmir home?”
“In just a few moments’ sir.”
I paged the back room, telling them to bring Sheila Dewberry into the waiting room. I did a fast click on the slave name generator and decided that her slave name would be Silk. Went with the hair, more or less.
I grabbed the keys to the suck stands, and removed Kashmir from her stand. “Don’t panic. You did such a good job, your customer wants to take you back with him. Alive. You lucked out.” As I started to lock Silk into the frame, Kashmir walked into the intake area, looked around, saw Neil, then ran to him, hugging him.
“Oh, thank you. Master Neil…”
Allyson, still on the grader, started yelling “Neil, you fucking bast*ERR*”
Her scream was cut short by Kathy pushing the shock button on the transport frame. “I don’t like yelling. Stop that.” Yeah, got to get Kathy on my crew.
The two dozen or so farm girls were being rolled back into the processing area by the back room workers. I could hear the Jessica 3000 machines going off. Sounded like they used all 6.
I turned back to Silk, “Hear that noise? That’s 6 slaves being processed on Jessica 3000 machines. It’s what going to happen to you if you don’t do well here. I strongly suggest that you do well here. And by do well, I mean suck cock like your life depended on it because it does.” I looked over at “Honey” the other slave in a suck frame. I checked her ratings recorded on the frame. Marginal, I checked her time on frame, found that she had been there for over a month. I thought about it. I have new slaves for both suck frames today, and we did have a need for parts girls, despite the shipment from the slave farm. “Silk, that’s you, dear, Sheila was your free name, look at me.” She turned. I triggered the neck blade on Honey.
Several things happened at that point. The first was that Honey’s head fell off. The second was that Honey’s body fell back, spraying blood. The third, and also expected thing, was that Silk screamed. Briefly, until the sound sensor in her frame decided that she was too loud for too long. A fraction of a second after that, she was knocked out. Well, talking to her now was a waste of time at this moment. Time to get back to work. As I started to return to the intake area, Kathy looked in. “Want me to take Jerri back to the butchers?”
“Jerri?” I asked
Kathy pointed at “Honey” “Her name was Jerri Maultsby. Went to school with me. Her boyfriend sold her a week or so before I came here. She was a cock tease.”
“Yeah, sure, take her back. Come see me when you are finished.”
“Yes, Master Josh.”
I went back into the intake area. Allyson was off the grader, but the three girls from the morning were still there. They still had their court ball gags in place, so I walked up to them. “If you scream, you will be shocked unconscious, and will be taken back to be processed. That is a polite way of saying you will be killed like the meat animals you now are. If you listen, and make some smart choices, you might not end your life on a butcher table. Margarita, of course, I don’t mean you. You will be spit roasted this afternoon.”
Like I’m going to let a redheaded LRE slave not get put on Jessica 3000. Yeah, if that happens, that means I’m near death.
I took Eva’s ball gag out. She worked her mouth, but didn’t scream or do anything but shake her head. “Have anything to say?”
“Yeah. Whatever you do to me, I want to see Margie get hers first. Bitch.”
“Well, then we may be able to make every one happy then. I’m going to make you a work slave, at least for a while.” I said as I started to remove her from her transport frame. “If you run when I release you, all offers are void, and you ride a spit, just by the way…”
She nodded. “I understand. How long I live depends on how well I work. Mr. West explained about the differences between work slaves and asset slaves last year. Never thought it would matter to me, personally, but I understand.”
“That’s right. Now hop down. I want you to go through that door, find the butcher and, when he isn’t busy and tell him that you are one of today’s works slaves. Do whatever he tells you.” I thought about who was back there. “I suspect he will tell you to blow him while he processes the farm girls.”
