Perverts 'R' Us

A Commodities Epic - Part 2: The Recondition Center

By Loki925 ( Sci-Fi, M/f )

Part 2: The Recondition Center, or Rebits and Rabbits.

My name is Kre Zat. I own and run the best commodities recondition center in the universe. There are two other recondition centers, but their galactic rating is so low that only the dirtiest and cheapest take their commodities there to be reconditioned. They have been shut down so many times it is a wonder they can do business at all.

However according to galactic law, one must have competition or else be declared a monopoly. That is the last thing anyone, or any business wants. So to prop up my competitors, I buy their useless stock. As long as there are stockholders the company must remain in business; another galactic law.

Universal Galactic law can be archaic at times, but it has given us peace for more than 10,000 centuries. Only backward planets with short-sighted races still have war. One of those planets is called Earth. It's in the Milky Way galaxy, and it is where I get the most commodities to be reconditioned. I still do not understand the fascination everyone has for young Earth girls.

Sure, Earth girls are beautiful, but I'll take a three summers Rebit girl over a young Earth girl any day. A Rebit girl's skin---. Well it's not skin, it's fur, but it's softer than the finest cotton.

The biggest problem with Rebit girls is they age so fast. After they are eight summers old, which is puberty for them, they are so useless that even the planet Unko won't take a Rebit girl older than eight summers. And the Unkoins are known for taking any young thing. Some call Unko the dumping grounds for used up commodities. Me, I like the Unkoins good life forms, though perhaps a tad over-sexed due to their three sex organs.

I have 2,500 employees. They are the best of the best programmers, doctors, surgeons and tissue growth specialists from the entire universe. I pay my people well above standard. But for most of them it's not the credits, it's the satisfaction of taking a used up young girl and making her like new again. Of course there are certain perks, like testing and using the girls to make sure they are as good as new.

I am standing at the space dock awaiting a shipment of repossessed commodities. That is another thing I do not understand; why anyone would purchase something they cannot afford to pay for. Not paying puts you at risk of going to a debtors' world, a place where no one in his right mind would want to live.

Ah, the ship has landed. I have exclusive contracts with all the major banks to recondition repossessed commodities. Thankfully there are not that many. It can take up to six standard months to repair the damage done to a repossessed commodity.

My shipping manifest reads nine girls; five nine-years-old, three eight-years-old and one eleven-years-old. Ah, here they come now. Such damage! I almost feel sorry for them, but they are just commodities.

Wait, what's this? I count ten and I hear coming from the group of girls, "Fuck me! Fuck me!"

I check my manifest and the one calling 'Fuck me' is not on it. Good. She is brain damaged and way beyond reconditioning.

I talk to the ship's officer. "Captain," I say, "That one there is not on my shipping list."

He hands me a shipping document. I read it and I find out that she is not a repossessed commodity, but one that is to be reconditioned.

I give the paper back to the captain and say, "Impossible. She is brain damaged. Take her somewhere else."

The captain replied, "He said to call this number." He handed me a small bar coded card.

"Very well." I said. But I was going to tell whomever it was that belonged to the bar coded number the same thing.

I removed my universal communication device from the small pouch on my belt. I put the card into the slot. As soon as the card entered the slot it dissolved. Nothing new, I use the same cards myself. I wait for the call to connect. A few seconds later the call connects. I say, "This is Kre Zat from Recondition, Inc."

"Can you fix her?"

"No. Her brain is damaged."

"I will give you one hundred million credits, just fix her."

One hundred million credits! For a commodity? When the most she could be worth brand new is one million credits. Wow, this life form is filthy rich; but I cannot accept.

"Sorry Sir, she is beyond repair."

"Please! Please! Will you try, just try."

Whoever this life form was, he or she had fallen in love with a commodity. I actually felt sorry for the poor fool. I guess I could try to repair her.

"Look. I am not going to guarantee anything, but we will work on her."

"Thank you! Thank you so very much."

"Before I start I will need you to sign the standard disclaimer contract."

"Give the contract to the ship's captain and you will have it back within two standard hours. With all the billing information."

"This could take one standard year, if I can repair her at all."

"I don't care. Take up to two standard years, just try."

"Very well. I will proceed upon receipt of the contract."

The line went dead. Now let me check out this commodity that some poor life form fell in love with, then destroyed. Better yet I will have one of the doctors give her a sedative, then have her cleaned up, checked out and taken to my personal lab. This should prove to be very interesting.

I decide to go to the dining hall and have lunch. The dining hall has one of the best chefs in the universe and his staff. I have to keep my people happy. The chef has a bad habit. He likes eating Rabbit. They are the very early offspring of Rebit girls. I have never tried Rabbit and don't think I ever will. This practice is only legal on two planets; this small moon and Ratoo.

No life form would ever want to go to Ratoo, except the inhabitants of Ratoo of course. It is rumored that the advanced rat society of Ratoo considers young alien females a delicacy, to be eaten alive. They pay well for any used commodities that are beyond reconditioning, so I can make a profit even on the unsalvageable repossessed ones.

When I finish my lunch of Nutaran Pasta and Selko Salad, a lab technician hands me the check out sheet for the 'Fuck Me!' commodity.

I begin to read it. Multiple broken and re-healed bones, new multiple fractures, multiple bruises, welts, piercings, burns, deep scar tissue, half chewed breasts, reproductive hole due to extensive damage is totally unusable, and the same is true for the defecation hole. Page after page of damage. This amount of damage goes beyond anything I have ever seen done to a commodity. It is amazing that she is still alive. Disciplining a commodity is fine, but this much damage borders on insanity.

This life form whoever he or she is has a very twisted soul. Well, all the physical damage can be repaired. It's the brain damage that I am worried about. I decide to have her body repaired first, while I talk to my staff of neurologists and neurosurgeons. Maybe we can try some of that new very risky stuff that I have been reading about in the medical journals. This could be a good opportunity for my staff to get papered. It would shine the galactic light on them and on my company.

I know that if they got papered they would most likely stay. Most of my staff, like the chef, has their little quirks. It is another reason they work here. While most of the universe would shun these quirks they are readily accepted here.

I guess I truly believe in the saying 'The greater the life form, the greater the flaw.' And after all, they are only commodities!

Three months later all the physical damage has been repaired and with the new rapid healing process her body is as good as new. We are still having trouble with the brain. So far everything we have tried has failed.

I enter my lab and get my first look at this two months shy of her fourteenth year commodity.

My fat long tongue drops out of my mouth and hits my jaw. She has white hair. Some call it platinum blond, but her hair is pure glowing white. She even has a small patch of it just above her reproductive hole. Her hips are not yet fully formed, but they beckon to be pulled.

My eyes move up her creamy slightly tan skin. Her belly button is perfect and shows no sign of the very light hair that some female commodities have.

Her tummy is taut. Her lower rib cage is small. Then my hungry eyes fall upon her cup cake sized breasts. She has pouting nipples that call 'suck me'. I can't stop myself, I must taste her flesh.

Quickly I move to the upright examination table. I pause to inhale her scent. I make a mental note, 'Less compound 233 in the surface skin, it smells a tad fake'. Now the supreme moment. I slide my tongue across her skin. Damn, it spoils the moment. I make a mental note, 'Less compound 122, too salty'. Oh well, may as well test her reproductive hole. I find more problems. Shit, how could our equipment fail so miserably?

I check our equipment and find it meets all the specifications. Then why has it failed? Maybe it's just this commodity. Highly unlikely. Perhaps it was that the equipment is old. I check the purchase date and find the equipment is only two standard years old. That means it still should have three more standard years of service.

Screw it! I order the latest models. I have the old ones dismantled and sold for parts. Can't give my two bumbling competitors the slightest edge. I charge it all to the "Fuck Me!" project. I turn a tidy profit, not bad. I have new equipment and I made credits.

I wait two standard months. I once more enter my lab and once again her body makes me salivate. I inhale her scent. It's dizzying like it was new. I stroke my tongue across her tender flesh. It's like, it's like new born fresh. I must try her breasts. With my long tongue I stroke her breasts. They are succulent and tender, and her pouting nipples are soft and slightly sweet. I slide my tongue down her tender flesh, pausing at her belly button. With my tongue give it a deep penetrating lick.

I must control my tongue or it will control me. My tongue continues the journey across her taunt belly, sliding past her glowing white hair and on to her sealed reproductive hole.

My tongue is now harder than chromium steel, yet I can still control the force it applies to her tender reproductive hole's lips. The tip of my tongue opens and my impregnation organ opens and seeks out her pleasure button. The tip of my tongue sucks in the small bulb. It sprays her pleasure button and I can feel her jerk violently with orgasm.

This is my quirk! I love to make commodities cum. Some say it is cruel. Some may even call me a deviant but to me it is an exchange. It satisfies my desire to procreate, which can only be done with my tongue organ and in return I make a commodity cum. It would be the same thing I would do if she were a woman from my world; but I have no need for the money hungry bitches of my world.

My tongue continues to massage her tender button. Her body shakes several more times. This commodity comes harder than all the ones I have ever had, and I have had many.

I feel the back of my throat rumble. I slide my reproductive into---. What do they call it? Oh yes, it's a pussy.

I slide my tongue deep into her pussy, it is so pleasingly fresh. My seminal fluid rockets from deep in my throat to deep into her clean fresh pussy. My seminal fluid splashes her womb, and like hunters after prey my sperm seeks out her egg. Find it they will, but it will matter not. I have one more chromosome than the commodity does, making us DNA incompatible.

My tongue shrinks to normal size. I take one last look at my delectable morsel. I know I will return. I will try my hardest not to, but the mating instinct in my race is very strong, and even though I know it can never be, my tongue knows not.

Two more standard months go by:

Still no progress. What makes matters worse is I am unable to control my mating rituals. Maybe I can trick my tongue into believing she is already pregnant.

Ten standard days go by:

I have some success with my mating rituals. I find I can keep them down to once every two days and that is not bad, considering I was doing three times a standard day.

Two more standard days go by:

Crap! It's just no use. I am back to three times a day. However, there is a glimmer of hope about the brain. She now has about 15% capacity restored. If we can get it to 98% we can program her.

Sixty grueling standard days go by:

I am hopelessly lost in my mating rituals and I spend almost all my time in my lab. The only time I leave is to piss and defecate. My staff thinks I am possessed by the challenge of restoring her. We do have one last hope for her brain. I will administer the treatment in one hour's time. If this does not work I will ship her back. It will solve my mating problem, and the life form that owns her will get a 17% brain capacity commodity back.

On paper we have spent less than a tenth of the allotted funds, but there is nothing else left to try. We will still get the remainder of the funds as it is in the contract. Work or not, this commodity must be gone. We could at this point augment her with micro-circuits but that's not what the client wants. He is right of course. She would be no more than a computer.

One standard hour later:

I administer the treatment.

Two standard hours later:

Nothing!

Eight standard hours later:

Nothing! If it was going to work it would have happened by now. I mate with her one last time.

I move to switch the power off. My finger on the switch, I hear an audible 'BEEP'. I look at the brain monitor and it is going up. 18%, 30%, 55%. Shit, it stops. It's not enough.

Oh well, we tried our best. I kiss her small button one last time. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Chills runs up and down my spine. The organ in my pants snaps to attention. It only does that in the state of highest arousal, or when I hump Rebits!

I look at the brain monitor. 80%, 85%, 90%, 95%, 100%.

Her eyes open. Shit, the sedative. Where is that damn needle?

She speaks, "Do I belong to you?"

Her words are like a hot sword burning, tearing and twisting my guts. I feel pain, I feel loss. I remember my father's words, 'Discipline boy, Discipline!'

I regain some composure. I answer, "No!"

She speaks, "Will I go back to where I came from?"

I answer, "Yes."

She speaks, "Is there no hope for me?"

I answer, "You are a---"

She spoke interrupting me, "Commodity." She understands the terrible fate that awaits her.

I can say no more. There is that dumb needle. I turn away from her. A speck of dust catches my eye. I hang my head and leave the room.

I press the inter-com button on the panel on the side of the closed door. I speak, "Programming needed in lab one."

I wipe the dust tears from my eyes. I think I will sell this place, to my employees of course. I have more than enough credits to last me ten life times.

I walk away from my lab door. I now knew why she was destroyed. Her owner loved her and hated himself for it! I also knew why everyone liked Earth girls so much. It was their pheromones!

I think I will ask the chef to make me some Rabbit. Maybe I will buy a small moon where I can hump Rebits and eat Rabbits.

After all I can't love her; she is just a Commodity! And I was a commodity recycler.

A commodity is anything that can be traded, bought or sold. It is a business to which I no longer belong.

loki925@hotmail.com