Livestock Prison (2): Congresswoman Saeko's Descent
Congresswoman Saeko. The rising star of Japanese politics, hailed as the one who would shake up the stagnant old guard. From a young age, she'd made a name for herself through various social activities, and everyone thought her future would shine brightly. That was just a week ago.
A week ago was when it all began.
"What the hell is going on?"
Starting yesterday, malicious reports had flooded in from nowhere. She'd never been tangled in anything like this her whole life, but this time was different. Most media outlets were tearing into her like wolves. She tried to clarify, but couldn't even schedule a simple press conference. In the end, she chose to wait it out, hoping the storm would die down. But was that the wrong call? After that, Saeko never got another chance to explain herself.
It started with a minor fender-bender on a shoulder. The car Saeko was in pulled over to the narrow roadside by the mountain. The reason was simple—a run-of-the-mill sideswipe. But as a congresswoman, she couldn't just drive off. If she ignored it, who knew when it might bite her in the ass later? So she stepped out of the car.
Then the other driver appeared. That's when things felt off. He was wearing a black mask and sunglasses. On a dark night like that, it made no sense. Sure enough, as soon as he approached Saeko, he twisted her joints and pressed a small cloth to her mouth.
"Mmph!"
Saeko thrashed as hard as she could to resist, but overpowering a man who'd lunged at her so suddenly was no easy feat. And whatever was on that cloth—some kind of chemical—knocked her out cold in moments.
"It's done, oyabun."
The driver immediately pulled out his phone and spoke to someone. A small but authoritative voice replied.
"Good work. Leave no traces."
"Hai."
The short, curt response and the driver's deferential tone made their relationship crystal clear. With that, Saeko blacked out completely.
A pitch-black space. Voices echoed around her. Her mind was still foggy, but the sounds came through sharp and clear. Clunk, rattle, clank. Amid the unfamiliar noises, Saeko opened her eyes. The darkness hid everything from view. Creeeak. Moments later, a door swung open, flooding the space with harsh light—shining straight down from above. Her eyes, unadjusted to the sudden glare, couldn't focus. But even in that haze, one thing was unmistakable: her current predicament.
Her wrists and ankles were bound in small metal restraints. And her body was draped in something so pathetic it barely qualified as clothing—something not even strippers at a sleazy club would wear.
"Ugh..."
The moment she stirred, a splitting headache hit her. No wonder her vision was still blurry, the world indistinct. "Where the hell am I? And why am I dressed like this?" She racked her brain for her last memory, but nothing came. Lost in confusion, a woman approached and introduced herself as a prison guard. Without a word, she fastened a small collar around Saeko's neck. It looked like a choker, but the ominous click said otherwise.
"...What?"
Livestock. A word that had no business anywhere near Saeko. She shot back in disbelief. "Who the hell are you?!"
The guard's response was curt. "What're you blabbering about, you criminal scum hauled in here as livestock? Your grade ain't even set yet, so shut up and follow me."
Tugged by the collar, Saeko had no choice but to obey. This was her beginning. And soon, her livestock grading would commence.
Grading Room.
Under the original Livestock Law, this grading process recorded a livestock's status and shipped them out. Back then, it was haphazard—sending them wherever there was demand, no real system. But the new Livestock Law changed that. Now, every detail was scrutinized against strict criteria, assigning the optimal grade, followed by training and shipment. And that's exactly what Saeko was about to face.
Of course, she resisted. "Cut the bullshit!" "You think I'm gonna play along?"
But she hadn't counted on one thing. This was the Livestock Prison, where guards were armed. And most guards here were ex-JSDF, more than used to handling situations like this.
The guard drew her pistol and aimed at Saeko's head. "Move straight. You're livestock now—no human rights. I shoot, it's not murder. Just animal cruelty."
"..."
Saeko was speechless. No matter how defiant she wanted to be, the gun terrified her. The fear of actual death was too much for a woman who'd only known the red carpet.
In the end, Saeko followed the guard and doctor's orders. The doctor reviewed her file, checking physical details.
"Alright, all recorded info checks out. Saeko, 28-year-old female. Shall we begin the livestock examination?"
The doctor smiled at her. "First, please remove everything you're wearing."
"...Didn't you say mugshot? Since when do mugshots involve full nudity?"
Saeko snapped back sharply. But the guard's pistol shut her down quick. Reluctantly, she began stripping. It was already next to nothing, but the humiliation was unavoidable. She tried to cover herself. Her luxurious life had kept her body toned like a celebrity's—stunning looks that had drawn attention in politics. But seeing such a woman desperately shielding her privates? Pathetic. Hilarious, even.
To the guard and doctor, it was prime entertainment. Guards here weren't your average ex-JSDF grunts. Many had been dishonorably discharged for screw-ups, landing here as their next gig. They didn't see prisoners as reform candidates—just fun toys. Especially not someone untouchable like Saeko, crumbling before their eyes. Always a thrill.
Soon, Saeko overcame her shame and stripped bare. Her confiscated "clothes" were long gone.
"Note that the entire grading process is being recorded."
"...What? Nobody said anything about that!"
Saeko was utterly naked now. Porcelain skin, a mature beauty's curves. No one would peg her for a politician—more like an adult video star, with firm, bouncy breasts, wide hips, neatly trimmed pubic hair, and a still-pink vulva. Just exposing herself was turning her face crimson with shame. But fallen below human, she got no human treatment. Just livestock handling.
The doctor handed her a grade placard. "Now, hold this and stand at attention?"
Saeko spotted the camera. One that would capture her nude body in crystal clarity. Mortifying, utterly humiliating—but the guard's gun loomed larger. Fear of the bullet beat the shame. She stepped forward, stark naked, before the lens.
"One front shot, then we'll switch to livestock pose."
She had no idea what a "livestock shot" entailed. But the name alone screamed it wouldn't end well for her.