All characters are over 18. All story elements are 100% fictional.
*click*
Amanda sighed as she pressed her mouse cursor on the button to submit her acquisition report, she tried not to think about the 100 women she had just sentenced to be slaughtered. She had never had trouble with her work before. It had all just been numbers on a page, quotas to fill, and puzzles to solve when specific meat grade designations were required.
It was her job to *********** the “winners” of the meat lottery. Not that they could really be called winners. Every day she came into work she was presented with the ***********ion quotas of her 10 states, it was her job to randomly *********** women who best matched the quota from the available pool of eligible women in the local area of the state that matched the requisition. Some days were slow, with only a few dozen women from each state required, others were quite busy requiring Amanda to work overtime to make sure that adequate ***********ions were made to fill hundreds of orders in each state. Once she made her ***********ions and submitted her reports it was out of her hands, the relevant women were notified to report for processing within 24 hours before collection officers were dispatched.
It was a slow monotonous task searching through the anonymised database of women, only their DPC registry ID number and medical records were available. The basic information she needed to determine if a woman was a good fit for the requisition. It also made it easier to ignore the lives behind the numbers, when you were reduced to nothing by a number and some doctor’s notes and an estimated meat grade it was easy to think of it as just data on a screen. Over the last few years, tens of thousands of women had been ***********ed from her desk, if not hundreds fo thousands, and it had never really bothered her before. It was just a part of life and someone had to make the choices.
That had changed for Amanda though. Over the weekend she found out that her little sister Clair had been ***********ed. Unlike most people who assumed that all the lottery ***********ions were done by computers. Clair had known better, she had listened plenty to Amanda over the years when she complained about higher quotas or difficulty in ***********ing suitable women in some regional areas. Clair knew that it was her older sister who made the ***********ions in their state and that it was she who had signed off on her life.
Late last Friday night after working overtime to fill her local state requisitions Amanda had come home to find Clair had left her a message. Her stomach dropped as soon as she heard her little sister’s trembling voice. Usually, Clair was bubbly and excitable, to hear her speak so softly and uncertainly was enough to make Amanda anxious. As she listened to the message her anxiety was proved valid, as the details of Clair’s ***********ion became clear. Before the message had ended Amanda had begun rushing back to the office, desperate to undo her submission. But it was too late, by the time she had gotten through the security check and logged into her computer her report had been actioned. Looking through the DPC processing database she searched for Clair’s records. While the ***********ion process was anonymized once a woman had been ***********ed her information was transferred to the processing department where they required accurate identification in their records. To her horror, Clair had already been processed.
Photographic records of her at each of the processing center workstations were kept on record to ensure that the center was treating their livestock humanely and maintaining safe food practices. Amanda’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at the records attached to Clair’s file. A picture of Clair’s solemn expression at the registration station was followed by images of her being stripped and graded. Her small breasts, shapely ass, and shaved crotch were on display as she held her arms above her head and spread her legs for the assessment staff. The next image showed her little sister’s scared and shivering form strapped into a frame on the conveyor belt, her fair skin shining in the dingy footage.
Amanda watched on with tear-filled eyes as the pictures progressed, Clair had cried when her hair was shaved off and grimaced when the staff at the cleaning station had administered an enema before scrubbing her off with rough abrasive sponges that left her skin raw. Her heart missed a beat when the pictures stopped and a short 30-second video appeared next. Clicking play her anxiety grew as she saw Clair’s bound form rotated horizontally so she was lying on her back. A middle-aged woman with blond hair stood nude next to her at the workstation. Clair’s wide eyes looked terrified but she was helpless to escape her bonds or protest her predicament, a large ball gag had been inserted into her mouth at some stage between the photos.
Amanda felt her whole body tense up as the nude woman reached a hand down to her sister’s crotch and gently inserted two of her fingers into Clair’s vagina. In the video Clair began to buck and shake, desperately trying to rid herself of the intruding station worker’s grasp. But before long her movements became strained, her face flushed red from either humiliation or arousal, and her breasts bounced and giggled with her labored breaths. The older woman’s fingers began plunging deeper into Clair’s sex, her thumb rubbed circles around Clair’s clit, and her fingers became a blur on the screen as she worked efficiently and quickly violating Clair’s glistening lips. Amanda cried out in shock as she saw Clair’s hips buck violently against the worker’s hand and a knife appeare at her throat. A crimson line spread across her sister’s neck quicker than she could see the station worker move. In the video Clair’s eyes opened wide as her legs trembled, blood began spraying from her neck away from the station worker as she gushed into the woman’s hand.
Amanda sobbed as she saw the color fade from her little sister’s face and the worker removed her slick hand from Clair’s cunt. A moment later the frame carrying Clair on the conveyor belt began to move again shifting her trembling and terrified form out of camera view to be replaced by another naked, bound, and shaved woman. As the video stopped Amanda wept, Clair had died because of her. She had struggled and suffered and bled out alone in a horrifying factory because of Amanda’s work.
The remaining files showed the product ID numbers that Clair had been separated and packaged into alongside overexposed automated images that had been taken by the packaging machines. Her pale freckled breasts in one vacuum-sealed pack, her pink supple cunt fillet in another, various cuts and slices that had been separated and shipped off to different stores across the state. It was possible that someone was already buying the meat that remained of the bubbly, bright, young woman that had once been Clair.
When Amanda had returned home she cried long into the night, listening to the message Clair had left over and over trying to process that she was really gone.
“I love you, Amanda, it’s not your fault.” The words echoed in her head every time she clicked her mouse, ***********ing another woman for the lottery.
As the morning had droned on Amanda found herself disconnected from her work. Her mind drifted to the horrifying images of her sister’s death and the cold reality that for every ***********ion she made a woman just like Clair was slaughtered and butchered. As she finished her morning report she found herself typing one last ***********ion onto her local state requisition.
Her fingers moved almost of their own accord as she numbly entered her own ID number. A warning flashed on the screen notifying her that she had ***********ed a DPC employee and to check that she had acquired the appropriate permission from the department. As she ticked the boxes to indicate she had. Amanda sighed as she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. One more report and she wouldn’t have to worry anymore, she would just be another number on a screen, just like Clair.
*click*