2.
Chief Procurement Officer Jake Clemens was left waiting in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Moore as his two colleagues clomped up the stairs, in their heavy steel-toed service boots, to fetch the Moore’s daughter, Barbara. Moments like that were always awkward. Not knowing what to say, Clemens marked time, as any good policeman would, by rocking back and forth on his heels and smiling wanly at the two understandably distraught parents.
Voices could be heard from above ... the raised voices of Mike and Sophie giving orders, along with the hysterically shrill voice of Barbara Moore, who seemed to be protesting insistently and vulgarly. Moments later there was the sharp electronic buzz and crackle of a stun, followed by the thud of a body falling to the floor.
“Sorry, sometimes the use of a little force is unavoidable,” said Jake apologetically as he moved swiftly to bar the path of both parents, who had risen to their feet, preventing them from rushing to their daughter’s aid.
A period of relative quiet followed. Eventually a subdued-looking, but quite ambulatory, Barbara Moore appeared on the landing above and began descending the staircase. She was dressed simply, in a dark blue tank top and a flared summer skirt with a flowered design. She wore sandals. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with loose strands framing her face.
Behind her ... and much to Chief Procurement Officer Clemen’s professional surprise ... came Mike, carrying a limp Sophie in his arms.
“Sorry, Chief, but the little Moore bitch dodged my stun causing me to zap poor Sophie instead. Good news, though, is that sight of Sophie collapsed on the floor seems to have quieted Moore down. She’s been cooperative since,” explained a clearly chagrined Mike.
“Alright, what’s done is done, Mike. Get Sophie over on the living room sofa,” ordered Jake, taking charge. “Hopefully she’ll be okay.”
“Yes, Chief!”
“And you!” Jake growled, taking Barb by the arm and pulling her out of Mike’s way. “Over there against the foyer door! ... face it ... extend your arms and place your hands against it ... And don’t move!”
Barbara sauntered over to the door, and to let the FNPA people ... who had their backs to her as they fussed over the stunned woman officer ... that she was complying with Jake’s orders, she made an exaggerated show of slapping the palms of her hands against the polished red oak door paneling. After which she stood quietly, her attention focused on detecting sounds from outdoors. She was expecting the protest rally she and her friends had been planning to begin at any time, thrilled at the thought of a gathering of many dozens ... perhaps even hundreds ... of protesters, chanting slogans and waiving signs denouncing the culling of young women and calling for the disbandment of the FNPA and the immediate closing of all its facilities. She thought she could detect voices outside, but nothing yet that sounded like a protest rally.
For the next several minutes everyone else’s attention in the room was focused on Sophie.
“May I get something for Officer Miller? Perhaps a glass of water?” inquired Mrs. Moore sympathetically, as she hovered just behind Jake and Mike.
“Yes, ma’am. That would be helpful,” replied Jake.
“Of course.”
“You okay, Sophie?” asked a worried Mike when at last his sidekick’s eyelids fluttered, a sign that she was beginning to come around.
“Whazzat?” she replied, stretching and slowly raising herself into a half-sitting position.
“Here’s a glass of water,” said Mrs. Moore, pushing Mike aside and bending over Sophie to press the glass to her lips.
“I think Sophie is coming around fine and is going to be ok,” observed Jake. “Let her rest now, Mike, and come help me. We’ve got work to do.”
“Yes, Chief.”
Walking over to Barb, who appeared to be obediently facing the foyer door as instructed and had not said a word, Jake began reading to her a prepared statement... not the Miranda rights used in an arrest, but the obligatory FNPA declaration made whenever a newly culled sow is taken into custody.
“Barbara Ann Moore, Procurement Registration ID: 7284 Charlie Baker 5534,” he began, reciting her id-info from her open file on his tablet. “I, Jake Clemens, FNPA Chief Procurement Officer, Unit 17 slash 8, am required to inform you that you are, from this moment on, placed in the custody of the FNPA in accordance with the dictates of the Federal Meat Procurement Ordinance of 2045. You have been culled according to strict FNPA guidelines, and will be taken today to a Local FNPA Center, where you will be incarcerated pending final solution. In the coming minutes, you will submit to a brief physical examination to determine fitness to perform and to assess and grade the quality of your assets, from which compensatory payment to your parents will be determined. You are instructed to keep in mind that your self-sacrifice is a patriotic duty. You are to obey the orders of FNPA officials and conduct yourself with dignity, and in return you will be treated with as much kindness and respect as the FNPA procurement process allows. Resistance to this process will be severely punished. Do you understand?”
There was a long pause, and then a sullen, but positive acknowledgement.
“Excellent,” continued Jake. Please turn around to face me and begin removing your clothing.”
Barb turned around as ordered. For a brief moment, she looked as though she might protest, but a quick glance at Mike and the stun gun he held ready in his right hand, made her think better of it. Slowly she reached down, pulled her tank top off over her head, tossed her head to slake loose strands of hair from her face, and fixed Jake with a hostile glare.
“That’s a start. Go on!”
Without diverting her gaze, she unfastened the waist band, lowered and stepped out of her flower-print summer skirt, and kicked off her sandals.
“Good. Now the bra!”
“Oh dear, no!” said Mrs. Moore, who had returned to her place on the love seat. “Is this really necessary?”
“Absolutely” answered Jake. “Off with the bra now, please.”
With a contemptuous snort, Barb reached behind her back and bared her breasts with a flourish, tossing the bra at his face.
Removing a bra strap from where it had caught on his right ear, Jake looked curiously at the garment before dropping it on the floor. Then he took a quick step forward and slapped her hard across the face, sending her reeling to the floor.
“Oh my God, no!” cried Mrs. Moore, rising to her feet, hands to her face. Her husband also stood, balling his fists in anger, but stopped short of advancing from where he stood.
Mike stepped swiftly in front of the Moores to head off any interference on their part.
“Get up. On your feet!” snarled Jake at Barb. “I’ll allow no more shit from you, understand? Behave, or else!”
She rose slowly, rubbing the side of her stung face and fixing him with a renewed glare. She wondered why the rally hadn’t started yet, decided that she didn’t like this man, and thought briefly about kneeing him in the groin.
“Continue!” he hissed, pointing at her white cotton panties.
There was no point in resisting, so she slid them off her hips and allowed them to fall down her legs to the floor before kicking them away. Instinctively she tried to cover her exposed pudendum with her hands.
“Hands at your sides!”
She complied.
With the preliminaries completed, Jake allowed himself a few moments to take her in. He noted her shapely, well-toned, legs, somewhat narrow hips, flat tummy and exquisitely enticing navel. Her mound was graced to his way of thinking with a neatly trimmed landing strip, and her tits ... oh, her tits! ... they’re too die for, he thought to himself ... so high, full and perfectly shaped, with perkily erect nipples floating saucily on the pink circles of her areolas.
“Seen enough?” she said sarcastically in response to his obvious fascination with her breasts.
Ignoring the barbed remark, he turned his attention to her face, which bore ... rather oddly to him ... a serene smile, almost as if she knew something he didn’t.
She certainly has a pretty face, he thought to himself ... all the more so when graced with a smile. Her noticed how very dark her brown eyes were, and that she wore only a trace of makeup. And that there was a faint smattering of freckles across her high cheekbones. She was, in his opinion, the perfect personification of that wholesome, sweet, girl-next-door kind of look.
But, at that moment, his reverie was rudely broken by the blast of air horns and the onset of an ungodly commotion outside the house.
“What the fuck ... “ he exclaimed as Mike raced to a window.
“It’s some kind of protest going on out there, Chief!” Mike shouted to be heard above the din. “They’re waving signs, blowing air horns and chanting what I think are anti-FNPA slogans.”
“How many are there?”
“Difficult to say, Chief ... at least a hundred, maybe more ... and I can see still others arriving. Mostly young females, but there are guys out there too.”
Jake stole a quick glance at Barb whose serene look had broken into a big triumphant shit-eating grin.
“Fuck! Get on the horn, Mike. We’re going to need backup. Tell them we need a full riot squad and water cannon, and a couple of SWAT teams as well.”
“Right, Chief!”
“In the meantime we stay put and carry on in here with the procurement as before.”
Barb chose the moment stuck out her tongue at him.
“Sophie! Are you feeling up to performing the examination?”
“I think so, Chief.”
“Good, get your ass over here and do it!”
TO BE CONTINUED
