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.

   If you don't know what the codes mean, go to:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/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
http://www.asstr.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.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 friend's 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, wellendowed..." 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 
