A World Stocked with Livestock (1)
After Prime Minister Ryosuke's Livestock Law passed, Japan buzzed for years with talk of human livestock—commonly called in chuk. Opinions split sharply between supporters and opponents. But the opposition voices faded away before long. No one really knew exactly how or why they vanished. It was more accurate to say they dwindled naturally, bit by bit.
Tojima Samaoka, the chairman who had spearheaded the Livestock Law, declared that "Japan will soon change." And his words began to come true like prophecy.
Six years after the law's passage, Tojima stepped out for a dinner appointment. As always, crossing the mansion grounds, a blonde bitch came bounding up, barking furiously.
"Woof! Woof!"
The bitch—Mitsuki—rushed forward, clutching at Tojima's legs as he walked.
"Mitsuki, go back to your kennel. I'm in a hurry."
Mitsuki slunk back to her doghouse with a hurt expression. Beside it sat a dildo meant to console her disappointment. The moment she mounted it, her face lit up with joy, as if the sulk had never happened.
"Ahh... haht, haaah♥️."
Leaving the bitch's pathetic moans behind, Tojima climbed into the limousine. His secretary took the wheel and headed straight for a restaurant near the Prime Minister's Residence.
"...What do you think he called me for?"
Tojima's secretary had risen from handling mere errands to earning the chairman's full trust. Now he even helped predict and probe the chairman's thoughts in conversation.
"Probably something more he wants to do with the law, right?"
Ryosuke had ridden the wave of nationwide support from the Livestock Law to secure re-election as prime minister. Of course, plenty still eyed the re-election askance. This summons was surely about addressing those skeptical gazes.
"...Yeah, that's probably it."
"Nothing else really comes to mind. But don't worry—you can rest easy. If he trusts you, Chairman, that's why he's calling you in person."
"True enough."
Still under the prime minister's wing was welcome news. If it had been a move to oust him, Tojima had no intention of going down without a fight—but the best outcome was avoiding that altogether.
Before long, the limousine pulled up to an elegant traditional Japanese restaurant. The entrance alone screamed exclusivity, designed for the moneyed elite.
Inside, a sharp-eyed staff member approached.
"Do you have a reservation?"
"Under Ryosuke."
At the prime minister's name, the staffer bowed deeply.
"Right this way."
They passed down a long straight corridor to a space screened by red curtains.
"Through here, sir."
Pulling back the curtain revealed Ryosuke, nursing a sake cup.
"There you are."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Tojima settled modestly opposite him. A dark wooden table bore a green cloth.
"I've already ordered. Nothing you can't eat, I assume?"
"Of course not."
Glug glug. Ryosuke poured sake into Tojima's cup and got to the point.
"The reason I called you here is that it's time to spread livestock even wider among the public."
"Spread it wider?"
Livestock was already quite active in the market. The only barrier was the steep price tag. Even in affluent neighborhoods, you could spot people walking their human livestock now and then.
"To spread it, we'll need more livestock itself. Can you handle that?"
Human livestock production had already surpassed number 2000. It would keep growing, sure—but ramping up sharply posed real challenges.
"No problem. The research institute has it covered."
Ryosuke's confidence suggested they'd found a way. Tojima nodded.
Best to just agree and offer support in times like these. Beyond securing Yujin, Tojima's status as a chaebol handling distribution was why he'd become Ryosuke's closest ally. Provide whatever help he could, as always.
"Dinner's served."
"Let's eat first, think later."
"Agreed."
Tojima eyed the dish before him with a flicker of interest. Nyotaimori—sushi and sashimi served on a naked woman's body. Once a cultural practice abandoned amid cries of sexism, it had revived with the advent of plate furniture under the Livestock Law.
"Dig in."
An array of sushi adorned the woman's hips and thighs. A black blindfold covered her eyes.
"Nyotaimori after so long. Quite the sight."
"Wasn't easy to enjoy for a while there."
Ryosuke picked up a piece of sashimi and pressed it against the plate's pussy.
"Dip it here and try. The umami's on another level."
As he slathered the sashimi around her slick folds, the plate's body twitched. Livestock as she was, she might be used to such stimulation—but shame seemed the real culprit. Or perhaps the blindfold amplified the sudden sensations, startling her into reaction.
Ryosuke repeatedly soaked the sashimi in her juices before popping it into his mouth.
"Always exquisite, no matter when. Tojima, your turn."
"Very well."
Tojima grabbed a piece to dip similarly, but Ryosuke had already coated it thoroughly—no fresh nectar left.
"Afraid I can't."
As Tojima moved to eat it dry, Ryosuke smiled.
"Hold on. For this, stimulate here like mad."
Ryosuke pinched her nipple with chopsticks, teasing it with deft, practiced flicks.
"Haaah... nghaaa."
"Nice moans. Now it's drenched—should be plenty, eh, Chairman Tojima?"
"Indeed. But first, something else I want to try."
Tojima stood abruptly and removed the blindfold. Tears welled in her flushed eyes.
"Crying naked like that—truly a beautiful sight."
"You think so too?"
"Naturally. But seeing her like this... the food won't go down."
"Then?"
Ryosuke already knew what Tojima meant. Nyotaimori enthusiasts didn't splurge for the meal itself. The real thrill was tormenting the helpless plate-woman at will and savoring her reactions.
Tojima calmly brought his chopsticks to her pussy.
"Spread your legs nicely."
The plate couldn't resist. Wouldn't dare. Rebellion meant severe punishment.
Licking his lips at her obedient spread, Tojima murmured.
"Sushi's fine, but the best part is tasting this chrysanthemum."
His chopsticks pried her pussy open, exposing pink inner flesh.
"Chrysanthemum? More like a clam. Time to taste it."
"Good idea. I'll assist."
Ryosuke grabbed chopsticks too, unhesitatingly tapping her exposed clit.
"Hah... haaa..."
With her moan, clear fluid gushed from the obscenely bared slit.
So humiliating... but it feels so good.
Trained to crave even this degradation, the plate's body betrayed her utterly.
"Now we can finish the meal. Dining to such delightful music."
To them, her moans were symphony enough.
Tojima snatched sashimi from the plate before him.
"Time to dip in that sticky manko sauce again."
Unlike Ryosuke, he plunged it deep inside, stirring her nectar relentlessly.
"Ahk... ahhhk..."
When it was indistinguishable from pickled pussy juice, Tojima savored it.
"Perfect salty tang, fragrant woman-flesh, just the right fishiness—flawless."
"A true gourmand. You describe it better than I."
"Haha, too kind."
"Dining with a food connoisseur makes it all the more fun. Bet you know how to enjoy this too?"
Ryosuke dangled the sake bottle over the plate. Tojima, grasping the implication, grinned.