A Commodities Epic 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.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)