Kock Kredit Inc.

Kred was really popluar or got its start among the corporate singles. And having a dildo in your purse at the workplace was just too cumbersome. So the R & D section to the Kred corporations came up with a more covert portable device: a vibrating ring. You tuned it to your bio chip and you were good to go! With the ring you could load it nearly anywhere; no more rendezvous limited to the company parking lot! And K-corp got really clever and began designing them in all different shapes and sizes. The corporate woman became competing T-Rexes of the stock market again. Not having to stop and go "rub one in" meant huge amounts of time saved. I suspect many didn't even stop conference calls to "load up." You'd think they could have made one out of diamonds, but the stone proved too hard for the inner workings to take affect properly. Once the rings hit the scenes the dildos went back to the manufacturer for a depleted rebate or into mom's panty draw for just such emergencies.

So all this put together meant would-be porn stars also needed implant chips de-activated so they can do the scenes; the illegality of it kinda justifies means. I know it's hard to follow but think of it this way; Pornstars already are paid to have sex. So if that is the case, why would any K-bank back an account with one of them? The pornstars are literally making their own gold! Printing their own money! Making the banks' sex-cred practically worthless. Many banks and K-banks won't approve a ring if the person is an adult entertainer. And if the pornstar tries to hide the fact they are in porn, then they can be banned for life from owning a ring. Most pornstars don't need a ring anyway. For them, from a layman's point of view, it's just them being greedy. Weird huh?

So just to be clear as to why my ass is in literal jeopardy, that little dick-lump licking daughter of mine must've stuck my dildo up her worthless clown-hole, and dumped the bill into my account. You see, in order to keep the stress out of the lives of the average citizen in a democracy where you are free do just about anything you want as long as it's not homicidally illegal, there are certain systems set up to alleviate accumulative work-day stress. Well such a system can have some serious side effects when it comes to the public's safety. Weapon violence was a very big one until the ratification bill in 2063 declaring no one may carry a weapon outside the home's property line unless they have proven documentation they were part of the area militia or in active duty in the armed service to town, community, or state.

Another bill that was passed was the movement of money electronically by any other entity than business owners, household heads, or store managers etc was against the law. Basically this bill said no one but a legal adult may handle monetary transactions. This cut way back on internet credit card scandals by underage teens as penalties were steep, beginning with a jail term no less than ten years; seven with good behavior. Imagine spending middle school and high school educated by the state penal system; your prom date being Ride'em Rough Randy or Gorilla Finger Greta. Identity theft crimes fell seventy-five percent for perps under eighteen years of age.

The internet also brought another big problem that no one was willing to address and that was sex-crimes had been sky rocketing since the early part of the 21st century. The 5th recession had brought with it a wave of untold stress and frustration. And like any escape device resembling video games, liquor, or drugs, porn had been just as notorious in laying waste to the society's cultural norms as any of the others.

Instead of producing just statistics, law enforcement was pulling back the curtain on its perpetrators with shocking revelations in identity. Pastors were still molesting boys behind the "Cloth", both male and female school teachers were still seducing minors, countless molestation charges on public transports in transited urban cities; and the most discreetly insidious act steadily racing for the number one slot was Incest. Mentally handicapped female members of families were the most common victims closely followed by blackmailed step-relatives; no family step-member seemed exempt from being a victim.

Now humping your step-relatives is pretty despicable. But them being retarded and blackmailing them is going too far; as if them being inherently stupid wasn't enough. This particular grievous criminal act was a black eye on the entire nation as a whole and internet porn and the resulting frustration it caused was at the center of it.

So to alleviate this black hole of degradation, an undeclared official means of sexual currency, Kock Kredit, was developed amongst the populace. You won't find mention of it in any government log or even on a city charter but it does exist. The entity behind it which governs and polices the system and those using it also has the capacity to send forfeiters of payment to jail. Still you won't find any mention of it on any official document past through the courts systems in the state or nation. However the authenticity of this system is a very potent reality; so much so that the "currency" has its own nickname "Kred."

Kred can be used as barter in a number of places for any number of small common place things. Food is a big one in the lower class neighborhoods, along with rent extensions, fuel, and admittance for occupancy. That's right, good head can get you a warm bed for the night; swallowing could get you two. This option is not exclusive to one gender.

Ew. I know, right?

While the buying and selling of things can get a bit detailed, everyone will walk away getting what they want. One of the biggest places Kred can be bought and used are huge parties and the corporate jungle. The corporate world is always using Kred. That environment can be extremely stressful and a good Kreditor can nearly retire on the dividends he or she makes there.

The people in that world hardly have time for a social life and nearly a quarter of them are strung out on drugs that keep them working longer than they could if they went natural. So to alleviate some of the self imposed social loneliness in working their way up the "Latter" or coping with a work schedule that doesn't allow a social life to be convenient, they frequently indulge in Kred collection and expenditures. Entire parties have, had, and can be traded in Kred. And it was at one of these parties my fucking imbecile offspring racked up this outrageous bill.

How did I find out I was now responsible for this bill, you're wondering? Well, I just so happened to be trading in Kred earlier today. I took an early lunch to trade some Kred for some really quality novelty guitar strings for my son's birthday present. They were neon blue in the daylight and turned galaxy light green in darkness or blacklight. Without Kred they would cost a fortune that would not justify the expenditure in our household, but the owner was a boy who was close in age to my son.

A transaction of this kind, between buyer and sellers of significant age differences, is not an uncommon occurrence. This boy was not as young as my son but he was not legal age either. What keeps me out of jail is that he has permission from his mother or father to be a Seller. Once they give their permission they can set limits as to what he can and can't do during a sell and vice versa concerning the adult's leeway.

Naturally, No sex with an adult is Set in Stone. And that is a rule that can't be broken when set by a judge-kreditor or a parent. So what does a smart teen do? Right, he bends that rule to its max. But I'm no dummy. When I get to his house, I set up the deal so that I'm sitting behind him to make the transaction. Non-oral digital stimulation is the absolute limit to sexual contact with a minor.

A lot of teens want to look you in the face during such a commission, but you get wise to their bullshit real quick. What they really want is to look down your cleavage or grab your tits when the "damn" burst. If it's a girl then she'll try to leap into your lap and latch her lips onto your neck or chest. While you're taken by surprise, by the minutely illegal move, either gender will climax, spraying or shooting "genital juices" all over the both of you. Not a bad way to cheat if the adult doesn't have to be anywhere important afterward; but damned if you do. So it's like I said, I sat behind him, did him a "Five-Fingered Freda" and gave him a little bonus by panting into his ear. Not so hard a thing to fake as it used to be. It was a good start; unfortunately teens are rarely one-time shooters.

I collected the guitar strings, and was finally able to be on my way. I stopped at a town mall and went to the restroom to clean up and maybe browse a little before heading back to work.

Like I said, Set-in-Stone cannot be broken, but bending the shit out of it still has endless possibilities. I'm glad I wore a print dress to the sell; they don't show stains or wet marks as easily. At another sell, long past, with a different kid who was the same age as my guitar string dealer, I'd made the mistake of wearing a thong to a transaction. I thought I was being clever since he preferred his payment in the form of dry-humping. And I thought the thong would minimize the chances of any "accidental insertions." Well the thong worked; too well. I had underestimated the young man's tenacity, and ended up being dry-humped raw by my thong under the pressure he used.

Looking in the mirror and smiling at the remembrance, I reach down the front of dress and with some effort I re-clamped my front bra clasp. My boobs have really outgrown this particular style by about two sizes...and four years ago. It's a flimsy thing, and has enough ruined elasticity to basically act as cuppy trampolines for my "girls." It works on teen boys as well as thongs do at a Swim Up Bar. And finally some wet wipes and a bit of perfume to remove most of his cheap cologne.

There are a few good things about a transaction like this, one: the seller rarely has enough control outside a three minute mark, two: you do get smarter with every sell. I threw an absorbent paper towel over his 'one-eye spitting snake' after we knocked off fifteen kreds for letting him skip a condom and pick up my dry cleaning bill. So there was skin to skin, and the paper towel to coral his "shots." Three: the sell is always good quality because they want you to come back, and you both network each others' names for being good sales. Kred at times does have its uses.

Now, back to me being at the mall for the dark moment when I knew I would have to kill my eldest daughter. I don't like going to the mall during lunch because there are all kinds of vendors there who deal in Kred. Some are very discreet when it comes to older—over twenty-eight customer/browsers. Others who are bit sleazier couldn't care less; a sell is a sell and the act never changes their outlook. Those types I'm always leery of approaching. I don't need them pointing across the mezzanine, if I happen to be with my family, yelling the question if I was happy with a purchase I made last week. But there are vendors who have really good items and regardless their demeanor, some of the bargains you simply can't ignore.

Anywho, after cleaning up I exited the ladies restrooms where there was this one vendor's stall I was walking passed that sold these beautiful drift sets. Drift sets are summer wear for women. They are made of light nylon and dyed into some of the most dreamy and gorgeous fashion patterns and prints you've ever laid your eyes on. They are really popular and I think are a fashion from the Middle East. What makes them so desirable is the fact that the air passes right through them, so you have a barrier between you and the sun, insects and creepy leering guys but can still get the full affect of feeling the outside breeze. Did I mention the best feature is that it's not clingy in the least?

Well, there I was in the middle of "buying" from one of the six stunning muscular dark haired Spaniards (smart owners use young people as sellers) when my fingers locked into a loose open hand grip. My hand looked and felt like one my son's toy soldiers' hands. There I was in the back of a kiosk with my purchase literally moaning and panting, seconds away from being mine, and my fingers lock on their own, refusing to obey me. I took a look at my hand to find my sales ring flashing red!

Red.

Red as in your account is overdrawn. Red as in, insufficient funds. Red, as in you are royally fucked and will begin to have a very bad day or few days ahead.

It didn't make any sense. The young guy I was holding was swollen, his thighs had begun to tense, his sack drew in; all I needed were ten more seconds. The young man looked down, I looked down. Neither could have been more disappointed or believing what we were witnessing. Exiting the store after that had not been pretty. There's a lot of shouting, names got called, and righteous indignation gives people brief surges of strength. The same strength they use to throw you several yards outside their vending stall; along with some additional not-so-very dignified names.

I couldn't believe it. I sat there looking at my frozen lubed up cup holder looking fingers; totally not comprehending. I don't spend Kred! I collect Kred!! I'm not some deadbeat slut of a wife that can't control her urges! I'm not a krediholic. I'm someone's mother; I have a job; I pay taxes; I'm part of the goddamn PTA!! I've done nothing but collect Kred since I've been married, and that's been going on nearly fifteen years now. To spend Kred someone has to make you cum! I'm being crude because I'm mad! Climax, I meant to say climax. To collect Kred you have to make others climax. That's what I do. I do it so much I make it into an exclusive tax bracket...most years. But never while I've been married have I strayed by spending Kred.

I had to find out what was going on. And I had a sinking feeling Amanda knew. Always look at the newcomer when Regularity suddenly ain't so regular anymore.

She had shown up on my doorstep after an eighteen month hiatus. She and I had had an argument over the guy she was dating at the time. He was some baby-corp nobody who wanted to use her twat to get ahead. She was just too dumb to realize it. In my anger and frustration I might not have put my opinion of her behavior in its best light. No one has ever accused her of not being my daughter. So she made her choice and stormed out of the door and my life. It wasn't the best way I could have cut ties with my first child, but I've never had patience for stupidity. I found out later that she'd taken my advice about him but was too proud to come home to get a big fat "I toldja so" from her mother. What? You expected maturity? She pissed me off.

She looked pretty worn out when I opened the door; like she'd been running for really long time. And I don't mean as in exercising. I mean as if she'd been "looking over her shoulder for the last three weeks" kind of tired. I didn't have the heart to put her through the "so you come running back to me, huh" act. I'm her mother. I was just relieved she didn't have some baby or infant in tow.

I let her in and, for some reason after she entered, I checked up and down the street for cars or people I didn't recognize. It was just a brief look but I couldn't stop myself. Yeah, she looked that bad; even if she didn't realize it. But before I let her close her eyes, I fed her and made her tell me everything she'd been doing (or gotten into) since she left. I did have a truly galvanizing moment of smugness when she confessed the asshole she'd been seeing had had his own agenda. I'm mean, but I didn't have the heart to tell her that I already found out about them through the Senior Administrative Assistant Water Cooler Gossip line. She was so tired, I doubt it would have mattered. I finally had pity on her when the food began to settle and I practically had to yell at her to go to her room. She slept there for three days. The only times I saw her were when she got up to get a drink of water or use the bathroom.

You see that's another sign that you are being pursued by a Kreditor. Kreditors absolutely cannot come to a household for dues. If there is a living parent present then it is a No-go for the bank. Why? Because the fraudulent party can invoke an emergency counter measure that immediately defaults the overdue balance to their parent and/or guardian; if the guardian or parent is willing to accept. And when that happens the Parent or Guardian is granted grace period of sixty days; one month extra to pay for the debt incurred. The double whammy of this cowardly move to the banks' proverbial nutsack, is that no interest can incur on the debt during that time NOR can interest be collected from before the transfer was made. So, lost wages on the deal means no bonus for the K-hunters. So the Collectors stay away from residences the same way vamps would avoid churches.

If the parents have bequeathed you the house, whether it be a trailer, boat, or an apartment, then Kreditor can't collect. They can't even come to the door to let you know they are watching. They can't even come on the same street to see if you leave the premise. Homes are off limits, period. And this home had two working parents and two children in school. Amanda had come to the one place in the world that was outside the game box. All this did not hold well for her because while I was glad she was showing some sense, I didn't like the desperation surrounding her arrival. Her being here had shown me just how much trouble she was into.

K-Kreditors have a various many ways you could work off your "debt." If you are generally good shape you could be a corporate fluffer. Like I said before, the coroporate world is full of stress. But being a corporate fluffer was near the equivalent of being a two legged dog...that a guy or woman can fuck. It is not grand nor is it prosperous because you're working under an indentured servitude contract. It is also not the worst job in owing Kred. Another self styled ring of hell in owing Kredit is if one were to become a "boxer."

This delightful job required you take the place of other young deadbeat ladies or guys like yourself in various pleasure booths set up around a few dozen blocks of the warehouse districts in various parts of the city. And to work as a boxer one goes into a booth that is maybe twelve feet in height and four or five feet in width. The side of the booth is divided down the middle, the back part is where the boxer enters. They then slip into the lower half of a costume. There isn't a top part because it's only from the waist down that appeal to the customer's needs. The boxer then leans over a cushioned counter where there will be a stack of books and magazines for them to read while their lower half is in a partition that will not allow them to see the customer or the customer to see them. Money is paid, the booth unlocks, the customer steps in, applies lube, condoms or dental dams as necessary and then goes to town on your ass...amongst other things. Depending on how much he or she spends determines the time limit and access to genitalia.

There are some really cheap companies who use curtains to separate the two with no guard to keep the peace in case you get a weirdo with a clothes pin or lit cigarette fetish or some other such vile shit. And then you have the high-end booths where there are cleaning supplies, a guard (sometime plural), and a running marquee about upcoming talented boxers.

Those few are just examples of what can happen to you if you owe more than you can pay off immediately. It is definitely not a life you want to fall into; from there it operates like regular credit card department...or a prostitution ring.