Student Liaison and Support

STUDENT LIAISON AND SUPPORT

About thirty minutes later you are sitting in front of an office desk behind which is a plump late middle-aged lady typing your details into a computer. There is a new, currently blank GAME TRACKER on the table ready to be loaded with your details.

The lady had introduced herself as Yvette Dunspin. Student Liaison and Support Officer. She is jolly, smiling and hideous. “Probably describes herself as bubbly on dating apps” you think bitterly. When you told her what had happened, she had reacted with exaggerated pity “Oh you poor dear” and then had winked at you “Still probably had some fun heh?”

“Cunt,” you think but say nothing. You find you are clutching and rubbing your hands nervously. You are tired and hungry. You were an athlete before Cindy won that stupid GAME. Now it feels like your muscles are made of mush and you’ve been eating processed dog shit.

“So, Mandy, I’ve found your details. Let me load them onto the GT. There you are, all done!”

You pick up the GT and turn it on. It recognises you and lights up.

Your whole life between being enslaved by Cindy and now, is recorded. And it is summed up in the date on the first screen.

18 years.

18 fucking years. You’re a 38-year-old woman now.

“What the fuck happened?” you breathe to yourself. You look up at this Dunspin lady. For some reason you aren’t quite sure of, the first thing you ask is “Where is Cindy, Cindy South?”

“Oh Cindy South. Yes. She’s one of our most respected alumni. Graduated 17 years ago, Valedictorian in law and Swimming Champion for her year. I believe she is now a partner in Brickman Rose. Very respected law firm on the East Coast.”

The Dunspin lady continues to rattle off Cindy’s achievements completely insensitive to the fact she is talking about the woman who consigned you to sex slavery for 18 years.

“She graduated 17 years ago…then why I did I remain a ****? I remember having a,” you swallow as you say the hated word, “a Master”

Dunspin says “yes Richard Bullingham. Ownership transfer. Two years. Then looks like you were the OUTCOME prize in a GAME of poker and became the property of…”

Yvette Dunspin dispassionately reels off a list of students who have owned and used you. Some held you for a few years or months, others mere weeks or even days. You were sold, traded, and gambled. You were a sex **** of course, but some pimped you out, others used you as a general servant or housekeeper. A few even had you doing research work for them. For the first 10 years or so your owners made sure that you exercised and kept fit. But somewhere along the way the owners stopped taking care of you even from an aesthetic point of view. Eventually your last owner didn’t even bother to trade you after graduation and he boarded the train out of Shoubu without a backward glance. That was two hours ago.

From the University’s point of view, you were still a student during all of that time. You had been studying Journalism. You had already had an offer of internship with a prestigious online fashion magazine for when you left Shoubu. That was nearly two decades ago. That offer long gone.

To prevent you from failing your course and being expelled your owners enrolled you in a series of pointless courses and diplomas. Just scraping enough credit to keep you on campus. None of it useful in the outside world. Still Shoubu had allowed you to stay as a student for 18 years.

You wonder about your family? Did they never ask the University, never come looking for you? Then you remember you despise your family. Alcoholic mother, domineering step-dad and weird pervy brother. “Fuck them.”

A horrible thought does cross your mind. You have had a lot of unprotected sex in the past 18 years. You desperately scroll through the GT personal history a cold sweat forming

“What’s the matter dear?” Asks Dunspin

“Did I..did I ever get pregnant? Did I have a baby?”

Dunspin taps into her computer “No. Looks like Bullingham bought a magical permanent contraceptive aura for you with some PRIZE TOKENS. Technically a gift so you can still use it yourself. Looks like no one else ever ordered you to dismiss it. You got quite lucky.”

"Lucky? 'Lucky' is I don't have an ice-pick to put through your eye, you puffy cheeked manatee". You wisely keep this opinion to yourself.

Dunspin has not much more to tell you. You have a handful of PRIZE TOKENS in your GT but most of your physical possessions have been sold or destroyed years ago. “Technically you're still on the course my dear, but honestly I wonder if Shoubu is the best place for you. Maybe it is better if you give the outside world a try? It is a little safer.”

You can feel tears welling up. You want to scream or curl up in a ball or both. This is a living nightmare. You’ve lost your looks, your youth, your future. All fucked. You don’t even have a degree to show for it. And the real world is still probably the best option.

You didn’t just lose the GAME you lost everything. And now you get to live that.