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From: "josh.j.stone@gmail.com" <josh.j.stone@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Morning Shift at Hill's Meat [snuff, wsa2000, jessica 3000,bdsm]
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Date: Sat, 21 Jul 2007 04:10:05 -0400
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Read more White Slave Act of 2000 stories at http://www.darkeroticfiction.com

"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 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 or
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.

 "Can 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 any thing, other than 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 grade had been adjusted to 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."

With out 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 you
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
is going to be a problem.

Margarita Howe - Red head (the leader) Grade A-LRE
Cheryl Garver - Blonde Grade B
Eva Cotto - Red head Grade A
Denise Usher - Brunette Grade A-LRE*
Shelia Dewberry - Red head 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 possible "A
Prime" rating.  It was a toss up.  I called her over.  "Denise, you
have the highest rating of all of y'all you even could be rated as A
Prime.  Do you want that?  Let me warn you that if you do, there will
a strong push for 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 look a bit scared.  "Conversion" does that to women
nowadays.  Particularly in meat slave store.   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
drivers license "Ashlee Christofferse" 22, free resident of Oklahoma.
I swiped her license to auto fill 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 pull them
off as well.  I could tell from looking at her she as 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 your 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
my self, but didn't say any thing.  I don't understand women some
time.  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 minute 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 workstations scanner, scanning
the results into the system data base.  "OK Slave, please follow me."
I put the "please wait" sign up on the counter, and lead the slave
formally 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 her self."
"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 up on this,
slave"

"OK, what is is"

"A Jessica 3000"

"Oh." she said as she got on to it.  She was obviously thinking about
some thing, 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. Your going to be
someones 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 with in 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.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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