Work at the Processing Center

Most of the time, Clark enjoyed his job. He REALLY enjoyed his job.

Clark’s job? It varied from day to day, as he had only been working at the Meredith Conversion Center for a few weeks. Clark was shortish with a slight build, but that didn't stop him from doing what needed to be done. Today, his job was unloading the captive fertiles and setting them on the path to ensuring the survival of humanity. This often resulted in multiple fertiles a day being placed in a holding area, where automated machinery transported then into the Center itself.

Clark had been told, and the actual reason he had taken this job, was that supposedly it had he major fringe benefit of the workers getting to enjoy using certain aspects of the fertiles for their own needs. True, impregnation was grounds for arrest, but there were other ways to enjoy the fertiles processed inside. He was a new hire, having only been at the Center for a few months. He lacked the seniority to work within the actual Center itself, so for now, he was trying to show what a good employee he was. It wouldn’t be long before he had enough seniority to move to a position inside the Center and enjoy the fringe benefits.

Clark was smiling, thinking about that, as Chet, another worker, used a forklift to lower a crate containing a captured fertile off of a flatbed truck.

“Last one of the day,” Chet said from the forklift as he lowered the crate to the ground. “I’ve heard some movement in there. The **** must be wearing off. I’d hurry with her.”

Clark grinned. He liked it better when the women were just groggy enough to be aware of their processing. “Sure thing. Are the guys on for some beer later?”

“You know it!” Chet said. “I’ll round them up after a bit. See you later!” and drove off on the forklift, needing to put it away before his shift ended.

Turning to the task at hand, Clark used a wrecking bar to pry open the lid of the wooden crate, revealing a padded interior with a young brunette woman, presumably a fertile, clad in yoga pants and a sports bra, curled up inside in the fetal position. She must have been captured while out jogging, Clark thought. She moaned softly, shielding her eyes from the light as the crate was opened.

“C’mon, girl,” Clark said, grabbing the girl under the armpits, hauling her reluctantly out of the crate. “Time to get your new life started.” She was tall, slender, and lanky. She was taller than Clark and was only slightly aware of her surroundings as he threw her arm over his shoulder and began to walk/drag her towards the holding area, a small area surrounded by a high fence, where the fertiles were transferred into the Center proper for indoctrination.

She was trying to stand and walk, causing Clark to stumble every few steps. “You need to just let me...” she kicked, causing him to stumble again, “get you into the holding area.”

The **** were really starting to wear off and the girl began to absent-mindedly struggle against Clark’s pull. She was starting to make it difficult for Clark to manhandle her the way he normally did to the initiates. She was going to be a difficult one, he thought. The Center workers would have their hands full with her once she was prepared for sale.

He almost had her to the holding area when she gave a strong jerk, one last vain attempt at breaking free. Clark grabbed her about the waist and swung her bodily into the fenced holding area. Her foot clipped his ankle and he fell in after her, the pair spilling onto the ground inside the high fence. The sensors inside reacted to their presence and shut the gate, which CLANGED loudly behind them, trapping both inside the high fence.

Clark scrambled, putting his back against the high fence. The girl drowsily pushed herself up off the ground, blinking several times, trying to clear the **** induced fog from her head. A large three fingered robotic arm that was mounted on a mobile base sprang to life. The arm, outside and behind the holding pen, pivoted around, its multi-fingered claw closed a few times as the sensors detected the fertile within the pen. The claw descending and gently grasped the girl around the waist. She kicked a little as the arm lifted her over of the fence and out of the pen. It then pivoted back, rolling along a small track, taking the fertile effortlessly into the Conversion Center where she would be processed, like it or not.

Clark stood, once the arm had retreated, and dusted himself off. Now that the girl had been secured, the gate would open, and he could head out to beers with the other Center workers. As long as he had his ID chip on him, the Center's machinery would recognize him as a worker. He turned to the gate and waited for the gate to open and let him out, putting his hand to his belt to feel for his ID.

It was not on his belt! Starting to panic, Clark looked around the pen. It wasn’t there! He spotted it lying on the ground just outside the fencing. Or at least he spotted what was left it. It must have been knocked off his belt and stepped on and crushed during his struggle with the fertile. He knelt on the ground, stretching his arm though the fence. His fingers could almost reach the crushed ID. He stretched his arm as far as he could, pushing it against the rails of the fence. Just a little further...

He was surprised when the claw arm gripped him tightly about the waist, “The hell?” he shouted as he was lifted up and over the fencing around the holding area.

He struggled, “Hey! Let go of me! HELP!!!” He shouted. But it was the end of the shift and the other workers were finishing up, while the next shift hadn’t started yet. There was no one around to hear his cries.

Despite his shouts and struggles, the hydraulic arm easily lifted him out of the pen, turned, and carried him along the tracks into the Center.