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People joke about things coming back. Bellbottoms are out again, Legwarmers came back. Flip-flops have been replaced by slippers once more and drugs have left vogue. But those drugs left a void for something to come back, and that something is slavery. It hasn’t really become poplar amongst the common low lives; they aren’t really smart enough to trade in flesh but the large organizations. Mobs have taken it over mostly and they compete as they always have. The only thing that has really changed is the merchandise. From drugs to flesh, and not prostitution, or I should say not just prostitution.
They always did prostitution but sometime in the late 2020’s they figured out that they could earn more by gathering up the homeless and using them for free labor. Then, someone a tad more unscrupulous thought that people would make better slaves if they were trained to it, in order to do that they needed to get them young. They started taking children from the shelters, from foster homes, from juvi, even from parents that were poor or evil enough to sell their own children. Then supplies ran low and demand went up. They began to kidnap children, usually ones from bad areas and big families. Children that couldn’t be traced in areas where people died every day and they weren’t missed except by a few. Then demand changed, people wanted slaves that could double as bed partners. Slaves that were stronger and could take a little more damage for their twisted fantasies. So, the mobs teamed up with scientists and they began to genetically engineer humans to fit the demand. They would transplant them into donor mothers who would act as constant incubators, and to tell the truth I’m not sure if they had much choice about it. They would birth child after child until they either died or became useless in which case they were discarded, not pleasantly.
Let me clarify that none of this was legal. But very much like the drug trade and the higher priced prostitution rings it was basically hard to track and impossible to get to due to innate corruption in the system. Even more so as it progressed and it became children were born for and into slavery. By 2030 they had created a breed of perfect slave children, obedient, strong, and by 2048 they were sold to various buyers. I was one of those perfect children.
I should note here that the lead scientist that developed the perfect children didn’t have the same goals as the mafia. The scientist’s goal was to advance science uninhibited and he did, not always with his benefactors’ permission. This was apparently how I came to be. You see their goal was to create robot children. Not mechanical robots you see but actual humans who could be molded to run on Isaac Asimov’s three laws. This is simply a facetious representation but it makes my point. They worked to create embryos that were genetically handicapped in free-will, ones that are more susceptible to doing what they are told and not really thinking outside the box. These same people were also created to withstand torture with limited damage and more pain receptors. And they were engineered for beauty, physical perfection.
Apparently, I was the lucky embryo that he wanted to test a theory on. He wanted to find out if a person could be genetically altered to have a higher functioning brain than normal people do, thus I was created. The irony of course was that he couldn’t tell anyone about his success because his employers would kill both him and I for his actions. They didn’t want hyper intelligent slaves, they wanted obedient ones. Now, for a long time I was unable to fathom the doctor’s motives, whether he actually wanted the system he worked for to fail or if he was just fucking around with DNA because he had the opportunity. Either way he created me. A hyper intelligent girl, born a slave, sold into sexual servitude to become . . . well . . . I’m jumping ahead, I should tell you the journey, because that is the worthier part.
The doctor that created us, his name was LuDuis. Dr. LuDuis, I always thought that to be a particularly unfortunate name, if only because it sounded funny. But we never laughed at him, well, I never laughed at him, the others wouldn’t have thought to laugh. The doctor was a surrogate care-giver to us. He saw most of us once a week. I saw him more because he was watching me. I was his real experiment, the only one he was really interested in. I’d like to tell you how well I got to know him but that would be a lie. I saw him every other day and never really met him. Never knew who he was. Sometimes I thought I saw a sparkle in his eye but it never lasted long enough for a second glance. Sometimes I could have sworn he smiled but it was never there when I looked back. I like to think that he did for me as he did because he cared. I like to think that he was the light that was doing its part to chase away the shadows. I don’t know if it’s true but it doesn’t matter. That’s what he was to me.
I got in a lot of trouble during those first years. I wasn’t programmed for obedience as the others were; I was programmed for independent thought and intelligence. I learned early, as most children do, what behaviors to avoid. Since it had been awhile since they really needed to break a slave, they had forgotten how and simply applied force to any situation they approached, like the Neanderthals of times past. I was beaten regularly, sometimes more than twice a day, sometimes for no reason at all what the trainers called ‘good-measure’. I was also beaten when my fellows were. Not so hard then because it wasn’t for punishment it was for training. They trained us to tolerate a higher degree of pain because most of us would go to unsavory sadistic masters. During my punishments, my trainers rarely held back. Welts were common, abrasions as well, sometimes there would be blood but that was rare, they didn’t want to damage me I was to valuable for that.
Unfortunately, their senses didn’t match their tempers and they did damage me. Scars on my back and bottom and a crack in my kneecap that didn’t heal correctly and would never be the same again. Many of those trainers were killed for their carelessness, others were chastised, some were even broken and sold along with us to make up for the price loss that would come from my damage. Dr. LuDuis was chastised for my free spirit but he protected himself marvelously by crediting me to a mutation that was bound to happen every so often. They wouldn’t have done anything to him anyway; he was too valuable because he never wrote his findings down so if he died without passing it on he took the secret with him.
By the time I was ten I was a perfect little drone like all the others, not really but that was how I acted to fool everyone. I was the same as all the other beauties except for scars and a modest limp.
At ten, we were given specialized training. Sex, cleaning, food service, and there was reinforcement of pain and silence that was our lives, pain and silence.
At eighteen, we were lined up shoulder to shoulder to be picked and sold. We were naked, it only made sense, there was no point in putting us in pretty clothes, the customers weren’t there for the clothes. Dozens of men and women pawed at us greedily. Most drew back at the old scars on my back; those who didn’t wouldn’t even look at me after a glance at my knee. I wondered vaguely if I would be let go if I were of no value and then laughed at myself for the thought. After a time, the room thinned out. Some of the patrons had made purchases, others either hadn’t found anything to their taste or couldn’t afford the prices. Many eyes lingered on me, sure I was flawed but that would be cheaper but none followed those thoughts through and purchased me. Finally, I was the only one left, me and the patron that hadn’t stopped looking at me since he had first seen me. He was older, silver streaked his hair and his face was careworn and lined although he looked sturdy enough. I met his eyes accidentally and he smiled and raised an eyebrow at me. I knew a challenge when I saw one and quickly looked back down again, cursing in my own head for being so bold. A trainer went to try and sell me.
“You interested in the doxy, sir?” he asked politely. He didn’t answer but moved around me, examining. He traced a few of the scars on my back and bent down to take a closer look at my knee.
“She is damaged, considerably.” he mentioned.
“Indeed sir, misunderstanding with the old trainers, we’ll sell her to you cheap, so cheap that if she doesn’t satisfy you’ll have plenty left for another.” he said and the man nodded.
“How cheap?” he asked. The trainer quoted a price and they haggled and eventually agreed on a price much lower than any of the others had been sold for. The man took my arm tightly and led me out nodding a respectful goodbye to the trainers who were glad to be rid of me. I was given mute colored clothes and was escorted by a few guards out to the man’s car. I had never been outside of the complex. There was a small courtyard in the middle they let us roam in to get a bit of sun but I had never been outside the gates. We were on private grounds surrounded by fields and forests and it was beautiful. I hobbled along between my guards my gaze scraping the grounds in amazement. I didn’t get to see it for long, the guards stuffed me in the trunk and we drove off.
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