Conversions – White Slave Act of 2000

I meet John, the great white slave hunter.

Spellbook Slaves, staff meeting room, early morning

My name is Josh Hopkins. I was hired about a month ago as a pickup driver by Spellbook Slaves. I used to work for Hill’s Fine Meat, but I was let go do to a lack of sales right now. Not the only one they laid off. I’ve been working with Mistress Debby-Ann, who has been letting me “take charge” of most pickups. And it’s Debby-Ann, not just Debby, and NEVER Ann. She made that clear on day one. I am not sure why she is letting me be the point person on pickups, apart from it reduces her work load, which might be the reason right there.

Mr. West started the morning off with, Ah, sorry mistress, got to tell you that you have a difficult pickup to do.

Odd, that’s what Debby-Ann and I are supposed to do. Debby-Ann must have known what he was talking about, however.

Let me guess, John has a new girlfriend he’s tired of?

Mr. West nodded. Give the mistress a prize. He’s expecting you around 10:00 this morning.

Debby-Ann all but pouted. But I don’t really want…, oh never mind. What is it you say? ‘Good Training!’ Come on, Josh, we’re off to see the Westside Wizard.

In the van, I asked, OK, who is John and why is this a problem. Non-permissive capture or what?

Debby-Ann sighed, Oh, no, I’m sure his “girlfriend” knows she is converted, or will by the time we get there, and I don’t expect any running away issues.

OK, now I’m confused. Then what is the difficulty?

John thinks he’s a great white slave hunter, and I guess, in a way, he is. Assuming you like slightly dumpy brunettes, normally with untested sex skill scores. He’s a Three fifty wonder. That last bit I understood, that was the lowest amount we would pay for a slave. If they didn’t make it at least that far up the grading scale, with or without the appearance “bonus kicker” Spellbook’s don’t normally buy them. Debby-Ann went on, I know you like being in charge and all that, and it’s worked wonders and everything, but you don’t know what’s going on here, so I’m going to take point on this one. It’s not like we have any chance of losing her. Assuming he follows his usual form, that is. Tell you what, if the slave isn’t tied up, you take charge, otherwise, just let me deal. Oh, and you’re Mr. West’s brother-in-law, which is why you got your job. Don’t forget that. Oh. crap, you have your slaver worker’s license on you? He’s going to want to see it.

She stopped to grab her breath, allowing me to get a word or two in. OK, you’re in charge, I’m Mr. West’s brother-in-law, I have my license, anything else I should know?

She took a deep breath. Yeah, how much do you know about shibari? If you aren’t a freaking expert on it, bring in a double handful of zip ties, and make noises about the shearing strength of ballistic nylon vs. hemp rope. If you are a freaking expert, one, teach me, and two criticized the hell out of his knots.

I nodded my head, OK, handfuls of nylon it is. Let me use the internet to find out the numbers. Hmm, looks like 11,000 to 9,000 PSI for formed plastics, and let see, for 3/8th rope it’s 700 lbs for hemp and 4,000 for ballistic nylon/Kevlar. Working load is 20% of the shearing load, and a double bend knot means 20% of that, so we are looking at 30 lbs. max. With a good search engine finding the right web page, I can be a good enough expert in very little time, so snarking on his knots is in order.

Debby-Ann blinked. Why didn’t I ever think to use the laptop to look that crap up? Argh! While you got it open, what does it say about dyed poly? That’s what he uses if someone has ripped on his hemp rope recently.

Click, scroll…. It looks like it’s not much better, at 1,100, which means 44lb, working load. Formed plastic, for example my zip ties, don’t have the knot issue, so that gives them a working load of over two thousand two hundred pounds per square inch, assuming a 20% working load vs. shear strength ratio. I think I’ve got that issue covered.

About this time, we arrived at the address. We hopped out of the van and headed up to the double – wide trailer’s door, as I reached up to knock, I heard Debby-Ann say oh shit.

I turned around and said, What now?
You brought a Taser. Expect to have an argument about it.

Not a problem. You will note this is MY personal X26 Taser, not the M26 that Spellbook uses for those of us that aren’t blessed with a Taser 10. The X26 has not been declared sunset, unlike the M26 and its current state of the art, assuming you don’t want multi shot, which would be an X3 or Taser 10. Have you thought about using an XREP round in your shotgun? Same blunt force effect as a baton round, plus an electroshock effect that is the same as my X26. Yeah, I know my Taser. Speaking of shotguns, where is yours? You normally carry it for pickup “Just in Case” to use your terminology.

Want an argument of pump vs. semi auto in a non-permissive capture environment?

But bean bags don’t work in a semi auto.

You know that, I know that, but the people who write some role-playing games don’t know that and give a higher rate of fire to semi-autos. John plays one of those. Or at least has read the rules, I have a hard time seeing him in a gaming group.

Oh, one of those kinds of experts. I worked for one once.

Be nice. Mike used to write games before he got into slaving.

About this time, the door opened. After all this build up, I didn’t know what to expect. I damn sure didn’t expect a 5′ 6″ tall man in ragged jeans, a black tee-shirt and a bowler hat, holding a truck stop “bull whip”.

Bout time y’all got your asses here. I got you another one. I must be your best hunter, this here makes what 5? In less than 6 months. I got to be some sort of record for y’all. Wait a second, I ain’t seen you. Let me see your license! I want no irregularities in my record stopping me from getting my own. Not that the feds are going to give me one until I stop talking about Ultra-5.

I turned to get my license out of my back pocket and looked at Debby-Ann, who was doing that micro head shake thing people sometimes do to warn someone else off a subject. I handed John my license, which he held up to compare my face with the photo.

I should compare signatures, but Y’all are a team and I knows me Debby-Ann. We go way back. I was her first hunter, I was. Good ‘nough for me. Say, how did you get a job there? They told me they were in a hiring freeze do to that whole money market thing. That’s another thing that the Ultra-5 did, you know.

First time in almost 19 years as a slave shop employee that I’ve had to show my license to someone who wasn’t either from the state slave board or a law enforcement officer. I’m Mr. West’s brother-in-law. He broke the rules with the capital types for me. Kin folk and all. Blood is thicker than water and all. You know about that. God-damn it, he’s got me talking red neck. Damn it, I try so hard not to do that.

Hey, that’s a X26! Why aren’t you using a Taser 10? It’s got them micro preprocessor and has 10 shot capability.

Well, if I need 10 shots, something terrible has gone down.

Well, that’s not the case here. I’ve got her well tied in a classic shibari rig. Not going anywhere.

Great white slave hunter's catch of the day — Great white slave hunter’s catch of the day

I’ve browsed enough bondage porn to know that was not a classic rig. Not sure what it was, but it’s not a classic rig. Time to apply a put down…

Well, I’m not really an expert on shibari, but I do know that there is an order of magnitude difference between the shear strength between a formed Kevlar zip tie and any type of hemp or poly rope. And you don’t have the whole knot issue to deal with. If she were to somehow hook one of those strands and apply major amounts of torque to them, like by falling down, it would break at the knots. Better to use something that the carry load is greater than a normal female human weight at 3 Gs. That pole isn’t helping with the possible rope breaking issues.

Debby-Ann cleared her throat. I assume you have her form filled out? And have the proof of Personal Contact photos?

Oh, yeah, I does. Here it is, Missy. When is your Mr. West going to understand that a lady shouldn’t be doing this job and go ahead and hire me as a ‘prentes? Then the Feds would most likely overlook the complete Ultra-5 thing and issue me a real hunting permit.

Debby-Ann ran the form and used her phone to run the ASA app for grading the soon-to-be slave. Looks like this is your lucky day, she has a four fifty value wholesale. Want it transferred to your normal account?

Yea, I does.

Debby-Ann played with her phone. OK, she’s converted, and the money is there.

You don’t mind If I checks that before we transfer the product, do you?

Product? No one calls a slave a product. While I was untying the slave and restraining her with zip ties, I gave her a look over. She is, at best, a grade B. Based on how easy it was to get her loose, I don’t think John is any good as a bondage rigger. Meanwhile, he was doing something with his rather old computer and the web. Looks like he had a bank page and the public page read only status page from the state slave agency up.

OK, it seems to have gone through. The feds must not have a line trap on my line today. I faked them out by doing a proxy run today. Never find out about my Ultra-5 article I posted. Going’ bust open the whole shebang, it surely is. So, she straight to Hill’s like the others?

On hearing this, the slave started to look more than a little worried. Debby-Ann nodded, And I assume you are going to want to see that outbound receipt to be sure?

Of course. No irregularities on my accounts!

What the hell is he talking about? There is no requirement to see where a slave has been resold to, and I know, from personal experience, that Hill’s isn’t going to buy this slave. They get enough walk-in traffic for parts girls, and there is no way she’s going on a spit in 2025. Not grade A on either the appearance or meat scales, which is the type of slave that gets the spit nowadays.

Well, we will be going now. Debby-Ann said. Call us if you get another.

Will do, Missy, will do just that. I’m on the hunt even as we speak, got one lined up now.

Once we got the slave in the van, I turned to Debby-Ann, Straight to Hill’s? Are you freaking nuts? There is no freaking way they are going to take her. No offense, there…

Roslyn. Roslyn Mushrush, the slave quietly sobbed. Debby-Ann said, She’s not going to Hill’s Fine Meat, she’s going to Hill’s Cleaning. Don’t even think it’s the same family. Does show up on the paperwork, as just “Hill Inc.” I don’t think he’s ever seen any paperwork from Hill’s Fine Meat. Definitely not from us. Like every other slave, he’s ‘captured’ her profile fits their standing order with us, they don’t even care about her cleaning skills, they do their own training. We just made $650, even after taxes. That’s the only reason we deal with that nut job.

Hearing that she wasn’t going to be snuffed, Roslyn let out a sigh of relief and starting crying, Oh, thank you so much. I’ve seen them, they treat their girls nice. Better than he did, even, before he turned asshole and decided it was time to sell me. They treat their slaves like they are real people, not just like slave workers. That’s why my old company used them. Thank you so very much!

The harsh facts of life.

Spellbook Slaves Collections Desk. 8:00 AM

The phone rings. It’s too damn early for phone calls.

“Spellbook Slaves, collections desk. How may I help you?”

My name is Mitchell Rivers and I work at Spellbook Slave’s Collections desk. I’m also the only one that works on the desk right now. Mr. West has just started doing conversion debt collections, and is waiting to see whether it pays out or not. Spellbook Slaves does not do normal debt collections where we take your money or maybe your car. If I get called on a collection notice, I’m leaving with your wife, one or more of your daughters, or just all the women in your family, depending on your contract. People should read their loan applications better. Or their utility bills, or anything else that requires you to make monthly payments. Most of them include a clause now that puts your women folk at risk if you default or even have a late payment. Defaulting on a contract isn’t a good idea in 2025. Any way, back to this damn call. Sounds like a prank call, what with it being what sounds like a teen or sorority girl, and giggles in the background.

So, do you collect girls off to be slaves and stuff?

Yeah, if someone is late on their bills or like that.

Well, what if, like, some girl wants to be, ah, converted? Like, you know, into a sex slave?

Ok, now I’m sure it’s a prank call. I’m bored, let’s see how this goes.

Well, yeah, I can take voluntary conversion, sometimes happens on a pickup. Why would you like to be converted?

Yeah, all four of us do…

I hear giggles in the background.

OK, let’s see how much of slave law, as done in Oklahoma, these girls know. I’m betting not enough to keep them out of trouble. This might fun after all.

Ok, then I want you to say your name, then say “I would like to be a slave”. Can you do that for me?

I hear giggles in the background. I turn on the record function on the phone.

My name is Felice Edwards and I would like to be a slave

Well, got one at least. Then there is a different voice.

My name is Kirby Beck and I would like to be a slave.

That’s two

Celia Vargas and I would like to be a slave.

Three

Suzanne Holland and I would like to be a slave.

And four. Then the phone goes dead. No big deal, this is the 21st century and phone calls tell more than they should, particularly if registered to a woman. I typed in all four names (took a while to get the spelling right on some, thankfully the search by name feature has an AI “helper”) into the state slave commission website and found that they are all, in fact, legal for conversion. And, of course, they are students at Eastlake University. Doesn’t say what sorority, but I’d bet Delta Delta Delta, given their general lack of clue. I’m glad that the state doesn’t keep as much information on men as it does on women, it’s unsettling how much they do keep on them. I make a few entries and upload the recording I just made, changing their status to provisionally converted, awaiting urine test. Doing a reverse on the caller ID, I find that it is a smartphone registered to a Felice Edwards. Gotcha bitch. I go to a website that only PI and registered debt collectors can sign up for and find the billing address of that account. It’s in the Southside, of course. That just cost Mr. West fifty bucks, but I’m betting that it will pay off with four young slaves, and he will not be pissed.

I decided that I’ll handle this pick up, instead of passing it on to the regular pickup teams, given they called me, not the main number. Plus I’ve seen the daily work orders, and I don’t have anything to do today, unless we get a call in, which is unlikely do to the time of the month. I would be swamped if it was the first week, but it’s not, so I’m idling at the desk. So I forward the desk phone to my mobile, just in case I do get a legit call, upload the recording to my smartphone, then gather my slaving kit and go out to the white panel van. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. At least I think Mr. West works that way, he seems pretty laid back.

After dealing with the semi-nightmare that south side traffic is during morning rush hour, I arrived at the address I got.

After ringing the door, it’s opened by a cute brunette with white girl dreadlocks.

Felice? I’m Mitchell with Spellbook Slaves’ collections department…

Wow, you came out, I’m Felice, glad to meet you… Hey girls, the slaver dude came out…

From the back I heard, Is he cute? Felice looks at me and says
Sort of, in that older working guy way.
Well, invite him in…

I come in once invited and follow Felice back to the den.

Sorry that you had to come out for nothing, but we will get naked for you, and you can look at us if you would like…
That will do for a start.
Well, it’s all you are getting… You’re cute, but not cute enough for anything else. You look like you are one of my stepdad’s friends. It would be icky to do anything more frisky. Right girls?
Oh, yeah, looks far too much like one of daddy’s workers. Has the working-class look to him. Not putting out.
Yeah, I don’t fuck workers. Or even give them head. A girl has got to have standards, you know.
I don’t even do scholarship boys at school. You got to have money, or you don’t get the honey.
Yeah, but if they do have money, well, you give out lots of honey, like you were a queen bee or something. Even to some girls.
Well, yeah, but never often enough for that slave thing. I spread it around. And yeah, I like girls occasionally. Nice change of pace. Don’t tell me you don’t visit some sister’s room at the house from time to time.

I wait as they strip down, keeping my face neutral, not showing how pissed I am at them. One grade A+ maybe A prime, two grades A and one B+, possibly A- if I were to make a guess. Have to wait and see what the machine says. Good haul for free. Mr. West should like this. The one possibly A prime, Felice, has tattoos, so she’s safe from Issac’s monthly harvest, but the others must might make it. Given their general classist attitude, I’m going to recommend that to Mr. West. Going to recommend Felice be sold to a brothel with a “full use” option.

It doesn’t matter whether you would fuck me or not. You have all verbally indicated to a licensed slaver, that would be me, that you all wish to be converted to a person of limited rights, which was duly recorded and registered with the Oklahoma slave registry. At this time, you all are now provisionally a person of limited rights, pending verification of your status regarding pregnancy or drug use via a urinalysis. I am allowed to use any level of force, up to and including lethal force, to take your conversion.

They looked a bit shocked. I pull out my multi shot Taser.

Don’t me use this Taser, or my real gun. Actually, yeah, make me use it. Make my day, bitches.

Of course, an X3 only has 3 shots, but I think I can take one of them if it comes to that. Mr. West hasn’t given me one of the Taser 10 guns yet. I understand they are expensive, and the darts cost a lot more than the normal ones, and in theory I shouldn’t need 10 shots for the sort of pickup I do. I do carry a Smith and Wesson M&P 9, my “real gun” in case things go completely sidewise. I don’t understand why the regular pickup people don’t carry a piece. They do have 12 gauges, but those are loaded with bean bag rounds. Haven’t needed to do more than wave the M&P around so far, but I’m waiting for the day I get to blow away some resisting teen, or better yet, her mother. Assuming she wasn’t on the pickup list herself, don’t want to not get the target. Today might be the day. If I need to, I’ll shoot the B+ slut, she’s worth the least. With my left hand, I pull my phone out and play back their call.

Girls, you have done fucked up with the wrong working man. If you weren’t so classist, I might have taking this for a joke, had a laugh with you and left, but that’s not happening now. You’re coming with me.

Weald High School’s Vo-Ag Hairless Goats

Weald High School’s Vo-Ag human livestock barn

Hairless Goat Fourteen

Hucow #4 — Goat fourteen. Should have read the contract better.

Well, well, well. Patricia Jensen. Or at least you used to be Ms. Jensen, now you are experimental hairless goat number fourteen. How does it feel to be nothing but a training animal? And for many of the same kids you used to teach English to. You thought you were too smart to get caught up, but you didn’t closely read the contract at the gym. They changed to the conversion on default contract type of contract last year. They added an attendance clause to the contract, where you have to visit a certain number of days per month. After missing a whole month, you defaulted and were converted to a slave. Then the school bought you, at pretty much the request of the entire of the faculty. Know why? It’s your tits, even if some of their appearance appears to be from the push-up bras you used to wear. The men wanted to see them and the women, for the most part, they envied them. Some women, of course, wanted to see them. I don’t judge. After they were put on display for a week, in the teacher’s lounge, there came the issue of what to do with you. The school board said that we can’t make a faculty sex slave out of you. It appears that there is still some opposition to school-sex slaves, so you were sent to the livestock program. The kids got one look at your tits, and it was for certain that you would at least start as a hairless goat. If you don’t produce, it’s long pig status for you. You’re too old to be a pony or pet girl. It’s too soon to start sexually abusing you, but that is going to happen. Pamela, she’s your rancher, has said that she intends to see if having regular sex, of all types, will affect your milk yield or not. And by regular she means four to six times a day. If you have never been fucked in the ass by a ten-inch strap on worn by an active teen, well, get ready for it. That’s what she said she was going to start with, after you have been milked for a week, to get a baseline. You, of course, will be put on the hormones for 2 weeks to start you lactating. Pamela is full on butch, and she’s really looking forward to fucking you in your ass. You’ll be her first adult “partner”, so do try to be good, for the welfare of those that follow you. Don’t want her to think that a MILF isn’t worth ass fucking. For the blow job part of the experiment, which will be next, your partners for that will be a mix of the two boys in the class, me, and most of the hetero male staff and faculty of the school. Maybe Pamela’s strap on, she hasn’t decided on that yet. Subsequently, it’s back to the strap on for what will pass for normal sex. Like I said, she’s butch. So you have at least six weeks before you need to worry about going to the meat side. She might just sell you as a sex slave, we do have the option of doing that up to four livestock slaves a semester, and we’ve only sold one, Janice Allison, for that. Oddly, her sisters went straight to the long pig program. I’ve got some money that says that Mrs. Allison got some strange for Janice, but that’s not my business. Mr. Allison started to just sell her, which means he might have suspected, but changed his mind and sold all of them, not just her. Any rate, even if you are a crappy fuck, well, there are a few teachers who want to tit fuck you, so it’s likely that if we put you up for sale, there will be some buyers. Of course, if Pamela does decide to see how far she can get her strap on down your throat, and you can take all ten inches, that will help in being a sex slave. There has been some talk about making some videos of your abuse. There appears to be a market for human livestock sex videos. That might keep you out of the meat side for a while longer, but if you aren’t producing, well, it’s meat for you. Well, it was fun talking to you. Have a lovely day!

Hairless Goat Twelve

So, goat number twelve, I’ve got good news and bad news for you. Your production is way down. I mean less than a pint a day. Your rancher, Valerie, isn’t pleased with your yield. She recommended that you just be slaughtered and put in a meat smoker, and have your BBQed ass sold as a fundraiser so she can get one of the general class goats and see if she can increase its yield. We asked your ex-husband if he wanted you back, and his exact words were “Fuck no. I’ve got three new sex slaves now that do way more, and a lot better, than she ever did.” Didn’t even want you back at a large discount. He said something about selling your daughters for next semester. I’ve seen them and they will make great pony girls. Well, the youngest will just be a long pig, she doesn’t have the looks for being a pony girl. Any rate, we have space for all eight. The pony girls, they will have several years before they get put down, maybe even a decade or two, depending on their master or mistress. The long pig, on the other hand, will not live out the year. Just though I’d let you know what your ex thinks about you and his step-daughters, well, daughters in general, he said that he’s most definitely selling off the twins once they are old enough. It’s far too early to tell about the triplets, they might turn out OK and go on to be productive members of society, potentially even mistresses.

I’m going to keep you around for another week or so, perhaps longer, depending on how good of head you give. And not just to me, but to all the students in the human livestock class. Yeah, not just the two boys in the class but even the girls. If you don’t lick cunt, learn like your life depended on it, which it does. At the end of every week, I’ll take a poll. If more than 50% of the class says, “She’s meat now,” you get moved over to the meat ranch side of the program, where some lucky girl will try to make you into a prime slave. Now, there are two kinds of prime. There is the normal prime, which means you are just too hot for words, which you by no means meet and are very unlikely ever to. Then there is meat prime, which means you have high-quality meat, regardless of what you look like, which you are fairly close to as it is. Of course, it’s possible that you might start producing enough to keep you as a goat, but Josephine already has you on pretty close to max hormones now any way. Then, after a semester of work, you will be sold for meat. Or you can just not give head, and we will jump straight to slaughter and BBQ of you instead.

Goat twelve trying to avoid being meat — Goat twelve trying to avoid becoming meat

So what about that blow job? Ah, yes, you might make it after all, well, maybe, you’re not as good as most of the teen cat girls, so you might not make it more than a week because that’s who you will be compared to. Seems that teens don’t really appreciate MILF types’ oral sex like they should, and it’s just going to be me and the class, no older men, to skew the results. Now, let’s see how deep you can take my cock.

Stocking The Herd.

Spellbook Slaves, very early morning shift.

The door chime goes off.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

Damn it. I was just about to face fuck a slave.

“I’ll be out in a flash” I call out to the customer. “And I’ll do you later” I tell the slave.

“Sorry about that, had an issue with a slave that needed attention. How may I help you this fine morning?”

“My name is Nina Mason, and these are my daughters Ceili and Laura. I need to sell them off today. I’ve had it with them.”

“Mom, you don’t need to do this, really there are better ways, we can go to counseling as a family…”, Ceili says.

“Mother, please think about what you are doing, making us slaves isn’t something that you should do just because you are mad at us.”, Laura adds.

“Be quiet, you two, the grown-ups are talking. And I’ve had just about a much from you as I’m going to take. This last month has been more than I’m willing to take from you two”.

Ceili is a big breasted brunette that I note has wet spots over her nipples. Laura is an even bigger breasted brunette. Big enough that I have a good idea that if Issac sees her, she will be one of his play-toys, even if her tits are real, not implants. He and Sheila have expanded their tastes in snuff slaves.

“Ah, Ms. Mason, I’m not sure if I can take Ceili, she looks to be lactating…”

“Why would that matter? I’m her mother and I want to sell her, should be straightforward enough. Or is there something I don’t know about the slave laws?”

“Mom, please I’m begging you, he even says he can’t take me” says Ceili.

“I didn’t say that, just you’re well, are leaking milk, which normally is a red flag on conversions because it normally means you are either pregnant or the mother of an infant child. Let me check what the state database says about you…”

“Mother, please don’t do this, I’ll pay for the counseling, just don’t do this”, Laura quietly pleads.

I dive into the state slaving board’s website, and go to the status search. Both are listed as a free woman, and don’t have a disqualifying flag set for either pregnant or mother of a minor child. Odd. While I can’t do anything about the possibility of a child that the state doesn’t have registered, which is highly unlikely in this day and age, I can check for pregnancy.

“OK, the state slave board says you are both convertible, but they might not know if you are pregnant, so can I have you ladies fill these cups with pee? I need it to check your status. Please use that restroom and go in one at a time.”

Ceili goes in first. A few moments later, she returns. With the pee sample. I watched her on the CCTV set up in the restroom, and yes, it was her pee, not a smuggled in sample of someone else. Of freaking course, we have a CCTV camera in the ladies room, need to make sure that pee samples are from the female that says they are. I would just have them pee in the front of the desk, but they are, at that point, free women, normally, and there are complaints about privacy. Like that matters. So we have a tiny hidden camera over the toilet and every one is happy. The women being tested think they have privacy, and we have a record of them giving a sample for evidence reasons.

I label the samples and pull out two “Slave-Or-Not” kits and dip them in the pee. All the tests come back as green, meaning they aren’t on drugs, which is only relevant for a volunteer, and neither of them is pregnant.

“OK, everything looks OK from here, but I can’t but help to notice that Ceili is, well, leaking. Is she really lactating?”

“Yes, she is. The doctor changed her birth control pills and she started up. And the little whinny bitch wants to buy all new bras because she’s gotten a bit bigger. Like I would spend money on her. I have other things to spend money on”.

The explains it.

“Well, as it happens, we have a couple of standing orders for slaves that are lactating, which are quite a bit higher than she would normally bring. The downside, if you take it one of them, is she will have a fairly short life as a Hucow.”

“Hucow? I don’t know what that means”?

“Human Cow, she will be hooked up to a milk machine twice or three times a day and milked. Once her production drops below a given level, they will sell her to a human butcher, who will, well, depending on what she looks like then, either live spit her or just snuff her and cut her up for parts. The second standing order offers less money, however, with that one she will be used as a wet nurse. Once a slave stops producing with them, they generally sell her to the open market, which tends to have a longer life span attached to it.”

“Talk to me about this dairy, what sort of conditions would she be kept in?”

I bring up the dairy’s website. “Much like this.” as I show her one of their images of the hucow herd.

“So literally like a cow.”

“More or less, not sure what they do when they aren’t being milked, but I suspect it’s being kept in a small cage or stall”

“Why is that 3rd cow wearing fishnets?”

I’m somewhat amused by the fact that Ms. Mason has already changed her view of hucows from “female humans” to “cattle”. This does not bode well for Ceili.

“Oh, they get fucked as part of the processing, I suspect that her, ah, fucker, wanted them on her”.

“So in addition to being treated like the animal she is, she gets rapped? Often, like daily?”

“Well, they are slaves, so it’s not raped in a legal context, but yeah, basically. I also understand that part of the herd is used as part of a fetish whorehouse, for those guys that like the idea of fucking a lactating women. Or like the idea of fucking a soon-to-be snuffed woman, or for that matter, a cow.”

“So she would be a whore and a cow. I like that. Talk to me about price. Did you say there was another option”?

“Well, if I sell her to the dairy, you would get about six grand and four and half grand if I sell her to the wet nurse company. Either of those is quite a bit more than she would normally bring, assuming she doesn’t have any other skills that are in demand right now.”

“Mom, I’ve got skills, have then check my school records plus I’ve got some medical training… Please don’t do this to me.” Ceili is near tears pleading with her mother.

“Medical training, like being an EMT or LPN?” I ask.

“EMT” says Ceili.

“EMT Sir, I told you to have respect to men.” snaps Ms Mason.

“Yes, mother, EMT Training Sir”.

I check the skill database. EMT training adds about a grand to her price.

“Well, that brings would bring her non hucow price up to about a two grand and half.”

“If I sell her to the dairy, how long would she live?”

“Depends on how long she stays wet. I understand they put them on a menu that includes some special hormones to keep the hucows producing, but off the top of my head I would put it at three years, tops”.

“So, if I sell her to the dairy, she dies in about 3 years, more or less, but if I sell her on the open market? How long would she live then”?

“Well, a slave is snuffed every 19 seconds, but that is countrywide. Being snuffed is the single largest cause of slave deaths, but still most don’t get snuffed right away.”

“Mom, please, no, don’t do this” Ceili begs.

Ms. Mason looks at Ceili. “Sell her to the dairy. I hope you dry up while you still have a good enough figure to be spit roasted. What about Laura?”

“I can offer you a grand and a half for her, assuming she doesn’t have any skills I need right now. I might warn you that I have a regular customer who likes to take large breasted women and torture them to death.”

“Oh, really? Can you let him know you have one available”?

“Our contract with him and his wife is that we notify him if any slaves come it that meet their criteria, and Laura does.”

“Thank you for that. So $7,500 for the pair, that’s more than I expected.”

“Can I have their ID, please? I need to scan them into the system so I can convert them to slave status.”

Ms. Mason produce their ID and hand them over.

“Mom, you don’t have to do this…” says Ceili

“Mother, please, don’t do this” says Laura

“Be quiet you two, I’m speaking to this man.”

“But you heard him, they are going to kill me as soon as I dry up”.

“Whatever, that can’t be soon enough.”

Laura just looked glum. “You want them to sell me to a man that tortures women to death? Why Mother, for the love of God, why?”

“You both should have listened last month when I said I was getting tired of your shit. I’ve had quite enough from you.”

After scanning the ID, and entering the data from the test kits, “OK this is your last chance, you can back out now if you want”, I say with my finger over the enter key.

“I want to do this. Can I push the button?”.

I hand her over the keyboard, where she pushes the enter key and a few seconds later her daughters’ status changes from “Free” to “Slave”.

“Do you want cash, a check or a preloaded debit card for them?”

“A card will be fine.”

I dink around with the machine and hand her a debit card with the $7,500 on it. “You will need to call the number on the back to activate the card, but thereafter, it’s as good as cash in most places.”