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From: Joseph Geryon <eurytion@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Making Miss Daisy 3 (Human Chattel, caution, nosex, plot development)
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Date: Mon,  4 Oct 2004 08:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Making Miss Daisy 3.txt" begin>

FAIR WARNING:

   The Miss Daisy Chronicles are a stand-alone group 
of stories set in the same universe as Cannibal 4H; a 
universe where, as the result of "The Great Disaster," 
humans are used as livestock and cannibalism is the 
accepted norm.

   The Miss Daisy Chronicles contain graphic 
descriptions of sex in many and varied forms, some of 
which selected people might consider deviant and
perverse.  It contains violence, death, family 
tragedy, the raising of humans as livestock and the 
consumption of human flesh.

   Be aware children are not spared in this tale!  
They often meet a grisly end.  This series, like C4H, 
is not for the timid or squeamish.  NOR IS IT FOR 
MINORS.

   If you are a minor go away.  If reading this story 
would in any way violate the local laws, rules, 
regulations, morals or customs where you live go away.  
There are many other more edifying stories to be found 
elsewhere, stories that would be more appropriate to 
your age and legal status.

   Let me restate this one more time: the story that 
follows this caution is intended for mature, 
consenting adults only and should only be accessed 
and/or downloaded if doing so would not violate any 
legal edicts adhered to in your locale or your own 
personal taste.

   Pay attention to the story codes at the beginning 
of each chapter.  They will help you decide if that 
particular story is to your own taste.  Do not 
complain if you ignore these codes and discover 
material you don't enjoy or approve of. No one is 
holding a gun to you head to make you read this.

   If you don't know what the codes mean, go to:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/code/scfr.htm

   If you are a parent and you find your child has 
downloaded this story or other material you find 
objectionable, sorry but you need to do a better job 
of being a parent.

   Consider moving the computer into a room where you 
can see what is on the screen.  Only let your children 
go on-line while you are at home or Google "parental 
control software" for a full listing of available 
filters and programs.  If you don't know how to 
"Google," your kids will.

   The author does not endorse or advocate the 
practices found within these stories any more than 
Stephen King really believes people should move their 
families in to a deserted hotel in the mountains in 
the dead of winter and then try to chop them into 
kibble with an axe.  They are fiction, make-believe, a 
fantasy, a fabrication, not a promotion of the culture 
they describe.  But they are intriguing to write.

   In real life the author is considered to be a kind 
and gentle individual who likes small children and 
dogs, tips well in restaurants, holds doors open for 
ladies and senior citizens and even goes to the effort 
of catching insects in the house only to release them 
alive and unharmed outside.

   Previous chapters of The Miss Daisy Chronicles: 
Making Miss Daisy are available at

www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Eurytion/THE MISS DAISY 
CHRONICLES/MAKING MISS DAISY/

and 

www.bdsmlibrary.com



   Previous chapters of Cannibal 4-H are available at

www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Eurytion/C4H/

and

   
www.bsdmlibrary.com.

   Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is 
copyright with all rights reserved by its author 
unless explicitly indicated.  Reproduction except for 
personal use and reposting without the author's 
written permission is prohibited.

   Finally this saga is for Miss Daisy.  She knows who 
she is.

   Eurytion@yahoo.com

   THE MISS DAISY CHRONICLES: MAKING MISS DAISY

   "I don't know what your destiny will be, but one 
thing I know: the only ones among you who will be 
really happy are those who have sought and found how 
to serve." Albert Schweitzer

   CHAPTER THREE: COMING CLEAN 

(Caution, Human Cattle, no sex, plot development)

   THE HENHOUSE WAS A SMALL, rectangular building, its 
weathered grey walls flaking leprously.  A set of 
three uneven steps lead up to a battered screen door 
sagging on its hinges.  The inside was gloomy and 
damp, sealed windows on the north side letting in very 
little light and almost no air, except for what leaked 
around their rotting jambs.  The floor was a mixture 
of corncobs and chicken manure.  Two round feed pans 
flanked either side of a long but shallow zinc 
watering trough.

   The short wall directly across from the door looked 
like an avian jungle gym, studded as it was with 
wooden slats for the chickens to perch on.  The last 
wall was a collection of setting boxes, essentially 
cut down crates with a handful of straw lining the 
bottom for the birds to nest in. 

Chickens occupied some of the crates, some were empty 
and a couple had a forlorn glass egg in them, a 
reminder to the chickens of why they were there.  
Although the meat of the chickens was poison their 
eggs were one of the few natural animal products that 
could safely be eaten after the Great Disaster.

   Humming to himself, Morgan put down the toolbox he 
was carrying and began to stuff batting into gaps 
around the window frames.  That morning he had told 
Flo, he was going to do some repairs in the henhouse, 
repairs that did need to be done but which would also 
give him an excuse to be there when Tansy collected 
the eggs.

   After all he reminded Flo, aside from his income 
they had little in the way of cash coming into the 
farm.  Tansy was a growing girl, one who cost a lot to 
feed and clothe.  Maybe if the henhouse got fixed up 
the chickens would be better layers.  A tight as 
things were around the house, it couldn't hurt to have 
a little more egg money rolling in.

   He had just finished resealing the first window 
when the screen door creaked, announcing Tansy's 
arrival.  After exchanging pleasantries, Tansy began 
removing the eggs from under the hens, a task the 
chickens didn't appreciate and seemed to resent.

   Each day their resentment took the form of pecking 
at Tansy's hand as she slid it between the hens and 
the straw.  Most of the time Tansy moved fast enough 
that the peck didn't hurt.  Besides, the pointed beaks 
of most of the chickens had been clipped, a standard 
precaution to prevent one chicken pecking another to 
death.

   Most of the chickens but not all.  Tired from her 
nocturnal masturbatory exertions, Tansy was operating 
on autopilot when one of the unclipped chickens scored 
a direct hit on the web of flesh between her thumb and 
forefinger, causing Tansy to yelp and drawing a small 
bit of blood in the process.

   Acting concerned, Morgan made the young girl sit 
down.  After clucking over the wound, in reality just 
a small scratch, Morgan told his niece he was worried 
about her.

   "Honey, I know you're still having a tough time.  
That's only natural. But you're not yourself lately.  
Are you feeling sick because you looked pretty funny 
at the dairy, I thought you were going to keel over 
toward the end.  And then last night when I got up to 
go to the bathroom, you were making moaning noises in 
your room like you were having a nightmare.  You were 
quiet when I got out of the bathroom, so I figured you 
were sleeping OK but still."

   Embarrassment as strong as last night's orgasm 
surged through Tansy. Uncle Morgan heard me last night 
but how much did he hear?  Does he know I was playing 
with myself?  Oh, I hope not.

   "I'm fine Uncle Morgan.  It was really hot in the 
milking parlour and I did feel a little funny.  I 
probably shouldn't have had that second ice cream cone 
at the dairy either; it upset my tummy something 
terrible.  I did have a stomachache last night until I 
massaged it out.  That's probably what you heard.' She 
looked away, finding herself unable to look Morgan in 
the eye.

   "Tansy, you know you can talk to me about anything 
don't you?  And I do mean anything.  I don't blush 
easily," he responded, taking her hand in his. "Mrs. 
Patel had a little talk with me at Paladin's.  She's 
concerned about you too.  Your grades have been 
dropping; your teachers say you're having trouble 
paying attention in class, that you spend a lot of 
time daydreaming.  If you're having a problem, I want 
to help you.  You can confide in me and your mother 
doesn't have to know a thing.  It'll just be between 
us.  I want to do what's best for you sweetheart.  
Tell your Uncle Morgan about it."

   Again, the young girl denied there was any problem, 
although not as strongly as the first time.

   "Well, I didn't want to have to do this Tansy.  I 
had hoped you'd open up and be honest with me." 
Releasing her hand Morgan walked over to the covered 
feed bin.  Kneeling down, he reached behind the wooden 
box and hauled out a well-worn manila envelope.  
Dropping the envelope in Tansy's lap he asked "Are you 
sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"

   For a moment Tansy sat as still and quiet as prey 
would under the gaze of a predator, hoping immobility 
would render them invisible.  Then, in an unconscious 
imitation of Morgan's mannerisms she began to turn the 
envelope end over end, her eyes filling up with tears.

   "I know what's in the envelope Tansy," his soft 
voice announced.  "You're not the first girl to be 
curious about becoming a convert and you won't be the 
last.  Believe me I've seen hundreds of 'em.  Hell 
kid, you wouldn't be normal if you didn't wonder about 
it; what it would be like to leave all your troubles 
behind, no more worrying about your Mom and how
hard she's working to keep food in your belly, clothes 
on your back and a roof over your head.

   "It's an attractive idea.  No more studying for 
tests, worrying if the boys are laughing at you after 
you walk by, making milking motions behind your back.  
No fretting about what you'll do after graduation, 
what kind of a job you could find, what you could and 
couldn't afford to buy.

   "Living a pampered life, every need you have 
fulfilled, no more decisions to make, no more problems 
to solve.  Cares and woes gone forever. Just warm 
contentment with your role in life and the knowledge 
deep down inside of you that you've done something 
good and noble for society, that you're helping others 
in a way far greater than you could have otherwise 
done."

   Now the tears were welling from the corners of 
Tansy's eyes, salty rivulets tracing their way down 
her cheeks to join into a waterfall at her chin.  
Morgan sat next to the crying girl wrapping his arm 
around her trembling shoulders.

   "Oh Uncle Morgan, I'm so ashamed," Tansy choked 
out, the words emerging in short staccato bursts 
between deep sobs.  "I want to be a cow so much but 
I'm afraid."

   "Afraid of what Tansy?"

   "Afraid of what Mom will think, about whether or 
not it's the right choice, about whether or not I 
could even be a good dairy cow.  Just so many things."

   "See that's why so many young girls think about 
becoming a dairy cow. Because with conversion comes 
freedom from being afraid." Morgan turned the young 
girl's head toward his, brushing the tears from her 
cheeks as he did so.  "Tansy, I don't know what your 
mother will think and I don't know if it would be the 
right choice for you, only you can decide that, but I 
can tell you you have the makings of a fine dairy 
cow."

   "I do?"

   "Of course you do.  You know that Tansy." For the 
first time Morgan allowed his hands to touch Tansy's 
breasts, drawing a startled inhalation from the 
sniffling girl.  Cradling their undersides, Morgan 
lightly bounced them on his palms, exhibiting no more 
passion that a green grocer would while weighing 
melons.

   "These have a nice feel to them, firm and heavy.  
Right now they're too small, too small for a milker 
that is but you're still very young yet. They'll grow.  
Question is will they grow enough.  Big tits aren't 
the only things a diary cow needs but they're pretty 
important.  These would have to be a good deal larger 
before you'd be considered a good candidate for 
conversion," Morgan lied.  Tansy would already fetch a 
decent price at auction but not as good as she would 
after the worked his magic on her.

   Releasing Tansy's tits Morgan continued his spiel.  
"Increasing the size of your teats to dairy cow status 
wouldn't be a problem.  There's several ways we could 
do that.  But there's no sense in even talking about 
that until you make up your mind about whether or not 
you really want to be converted."

   Tansy stood up and walked around to stand directly 
in front of Morgan. "Oh, Uncle Morgan, I do want to be 
a cow, I do.  It's all I can think about. That's why 
I've been daydreaming in school and why my grades are 
down.  Cows don't need to do math or diagram 
sentences.  At Paladin's it was all I could do not to 
pick out a stall, take off my clothes and stay."

   Playing the concerned relative Morgan told Tansy it 
wasn't unusual for girls her age to think they wanted 
to be cows, especially right after a trip to a dairy.  
Watching the human cattle being milked often led to a 
momentary infatuation, particularly if the girl had a 
troubled home life.

   Knowing nothing set a teenager more firmly on a 
path than to tell them they couldn't walk it, he 
explained to Tansy that she might think she wanted to 
be a two-legged bovine but it was probably a passing 
phase.  In another month, she'll feel differently 
about it, want to do something else with her life and 
be glad she didn't so anything irreversible.

   For her part, Tansy argued that she had thought 
about it, thought about it morning, noon and night and 
her mind was made up.  Nature had intended for her to 
be a dairy cow and a dairy cow she would be.  And 
since she was going to be a dairy cow, and her breasts 
were still too small for that role, it wouldn't hurt 
to work on enlarging them now.

   If she did become a dairy cow, she'd need the head 
start.  If she didn't, well that wouldn't matter 
because all the boys at school seemed to like big 
tits, the bigger the better.

   As Tansy congratulated herself on the unassailable 
logic of her argument, Morgan mused on how easily the 
rebellion of the young could be used as a means to an 
end.

   "I'm not sure you know what you're getting yourself 
into, everything that's involved" Morgan said 
explaining about the most common method of breast 
enhancement, the use of drugs and hormones taken by 
injection and ingestion.  He outlined how the 
treatment worked, glossing over the physical pain and 
the occasional bad reactions involved in the frequent 
shots so as not to scare Tansy off.

   "By themselves, the drugs aren't enough.  There's a 
whole range of nutritional supplements that you have 
to take as well.  They're pretty costly, not as 
expensive as the drugs and hormones but still pricey. 
It's hard enough now for your Mom & I to pay the 
bills, I just don't know where we could get the money 
from for this.  The one piece of good news is the
exercises you have to do are free.  "

   "Uncle Morgan, you said you'd help me," Tansy 
pleaded.  "There's got to be some way to get the 
money, maybe if I got a part-time job."

   "Sweetie, even if you got a full-time job, we'd 
still have trouble coming up with the cash.  I could 
get it; I have friends who would help.  I just don't 
know if you're grownup enough to make this kind of 
decision and stick with it.  And I don't want to 
involve my friends on a whim."

   Now Tansy felt insulted, just what Morgan had 
intended.  Here she was ready to become a cow and 
Uncle Morgan didn't think she was grown-up enough to 
make her own decisions.  Well, she'd show him just how 
adult she was.

   "Stop treating me like a small child.  I turn 14 in 
two months and I have bigger tits than practically 
anyone else in school.  They're way bigger than my 
Mom's or Aunt Dora's.  I'm an adult damn it.  Look at 
these if you don't believe me." Tansy pointed at her 
breasts, revelling in swearing in front of a real 
adult for the first time.

   Inwardly thrilled by her outburst, Morgan gave her 
a slow hard look before informing her it took more 
than big tits and a foul mouth to make a silly little 
girl into a woman.  If Tansy wanted to be treated like 
an adult, she had to act like one; otherwise she could 
forego his help.

   Abjectly Tansy broke into tears.  "I'm sorry, I'm 
sorry, I'll behave, I really will.  Promise Uncle 
Morgan, cross my heart and hope to die."

   "All right Tansy, I'm willing to give you a second 
chance.  But if you step out of line and act like a 
little kid again, it's over and I will go to Flo and 
tell her what you've been doing," a hollow threat 
Morgan had no intention of carrying out.

   As his niece sat meekly on the feed bin, Morgan 
resumed sitting next to her with his hands around her 
shoulders, letting her cry herself out before 
continuing their conversation.

   "Honey, you know I love you and that I only want 
what's best for you. Your mom feels the same way.  
Sometimes we think we know what we want but we really 
don't."

   "I want to be a cow, I want to be a cow," Tansy 
softly insisted.

   "I know you do Tansy and you'd be a good one too." 
Morgan pretended to be struggling to come to some sort 
of decision, hemming and hawing while kneading the 
girl's trembling shoulders.  Finally he stood up and 
moved in front of Tansy.

   "Look at me sweetheart, it's OK I want you to look 
me in the eye." Tansy's red-rimmed orbs slowly rose to 
meet his.  "This is something I shouldn't do and we 
both could get into real trouble if your mother found 
out." Tansy stopped shaking and locked her eyes to 
his.

   "You know I was a talent scout for the dairies 
right?" Tansy nodded her understanding.  "Well, quite 
a few times brokers like me would find young girls 
like yourself, well endowed..." Hearing this Tansy 
straightened up her back and thrust her chest out, 
making Morgan smile.  "... and certain they were fated 
to be dairy cattle.  No talent scout wants to sponsor 
a youngster who will change their mind halfway through 
the legal formalities of conversion, so we developed a 
sort of test to winnow the chattel from the chafe.  We 
called it 'the game' and it worked pretty well.  I 
don't know of any one who liked and was good at the 
game who didn't make the grade afterwards."

   Tansy's heart began to beat faster as Morgan 
feigned reluctance.  Oh please Uncle Morgan, go on.  
Tell me about the game.  Tell me you're going
to let me play it.

   "I really shouldn't do this, honestly I shouldn't 
but it tears me up to see you like this.  You and I 
both need to be sure about you want before we talk to 
your mother." Squaring his shoulders and setting his 
face in a firm "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead" 
demeanour he continued.  "Flo's going away later this 
month; the Mystic and Benevolent Order of Samhin 
women's retreat over in Fraiserton.  While she's gone 
I'll let you play the game."

   Squealing like a sow caught in a fence, Tansy 
leaped up to grab Morgan in a bear hug.  "Oh Uncle 
Morgan, do you mean it?  Really, you'll let me play?  
I love you so much.  You won't be sorry, you'll see.  
I'll be the best at the game ever.  And it'll be our 
secret.  Mum'll never know.  I won't tell anyone what 
we're doing.  Wild horses couldn't get it out of me."

   Morgan laid down conditions to the tear-streaked 
girl.  She had to talk with Mrs.Patel and if, and only 
if, the school's career counsellor felt she was a 
qualified candidate for conversion would Morgan 
introduce her to the game.

   Once she had the counsellor's written endorsement 
and if she did well at the game, then he would begin
sounding out Flo on the possibility of her daughter 
leaving home for the auction block.

   Handing her a handkerchief from his back pocket, 
Morgan told her to blow her nose and finish collecting 
the eggs and get on with the rest of her chores.  As 
Tansy was opening the screen door, he gave her one 
final command.

   "And Tansy?  Between now and when we leave I expect 
you to be the master of your own domain.  That means 
you keep your hands above the covers at night.  The 
only place you should let your fingers do the walking 
is in the Yellow Pages."

   Without waiting to see her reaction, he resumed his 
repair of the windows, whistling, "I wanna sex you up" 
as he stuffed yet another crack. If Flo thought she'd 
been ridden hard and put away wet last night, just 
wait until her got a leg over her this evening.

   
NEXT UP: 
CHAPTER FOUR: 
DEFINING MOMENT
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