Author's note: this is a sci-fi horror story with elements of med-fet, corporal punishment, non-consensual bondage, and the inhumanity of modern justice systems. It is an expansion on the ideas expressed in my other story VIOLATIONS if you want a shorter read. Sensitive readers may want to look away.
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Hey Prof, I tracked down that woman in AZ who said she got caned for a speeding ticket. She wouldn't talk much over the phone, just confirmed that it happened and that she was happy to go on the record and provide receipts.
So, yeah, this is a real thing then, not just some Breitbart power fantasy. I have been chatting with a few other people, all women, all railroaded into corporal punishment for a speeding ticket and the like. Why isn't the Times or Post covering this? Wouldn't it be huge news? Why is Fox getting to control the narrative on this?
I convinced my friends to drive out there for a long weekend getaway in a couple of weeks.
I'm posting RK from AZ's contact info in Slack now and my notes will be in the usual place.
Wish me luck!
M
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Hey Prof, her story is even wilder than I imagined. I'm going to try to clarify the notes over Xmas break, work up some kind of narrative. I already reached out to the other two women, one is in Kentucky, and the other is in Ohio. If I can get the Ohio story to agree, I'm going to try to interview her in person while I'm visiting my folks.
Also, real quick, I had an IT friend of mine (not someone who fixes printers or people's Wi-Fi but an information specialist) help me find social media stories that confirm what RK from AZ said. He had an app or something that was able to capture a couple of dozen posts across the usual suspect platforms that were almost immediately taken down. Cover-up much?
Anyway, catch you later on Slack.
Happy Holidays!
M
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Hey Prof, IT HAPPENED TO ME! I can't believe it still, but it happened, and I don't know what to do other than what I always do. I'm going to write it out, in my own words, how I was accused of shoplifting, summarily judged guilty, and had a sentence of corporal punishment carried out, all within 24 hours.
My Dad has retained a lawyer on my behalf, some hotshot from Cleveland, but who knows how that will go. They forced me to sign an NDA, but what can they do to me here in Cali?
Help me get the word out about this, ok?
M
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The following is an account how I, Morgan Forrestal, was subjected to cruel and unusual corporal punishment and other civil rights violations by the justice system for a minor offence:
Morgan left Ohio to escape her stepmother. She'd told everyone, her family, friends, school counsellor, and her favorite teacher, that attending Stanford had been her dream for years, but deep down she knew the real reason.
She loved her father and older sister and got along well enough with her stepbrother, who was the same age. There had been friction from the start between Delia and Morgan and it never smoothed out, no matter how much her father tried.
According to Morgan, she didn't appreciate how Delia talked to her father and sister like they were slow. An upstate New York transplant, her attitude toward Ohio in general could best be described as testy. Morgan also didn't like how the woman nitpicked everything, but especially about how Morgan and her sister dressed.
Delia couldn't be reached for comment but would undoubtedly describe her own behavior towards her husband and his children as constructive criticism. She'd said time and again that Morgan and her sister were cute girls that have grown into very pretty women. It would be nice to see them in something other than jeans, sweats, and tennis shoes.
Morgan had been determined to go to college since she discovered her interest in writing. She'd never been that great about creating stories like her father could out of thin air, but she loved learning about other people's stories and telling them in a way that helped fill in a bigger picture about how the world worked. When it came time to apply, Morgan lied about applying local and focused her efforts on colleges on the West Coast.
Morgan's grades and SATs were stellar, and she'd always been active in clubs and the community and had scored many bylines in the local paper. She liked to think of herself as more inclusive and forward thinking than the town she grew up in. When she got accepted to Stanford, she decided that Fairfax, Ohio was simply too small for her big dreams.
Stanford was great but also incredibly competitive. She thought she was a good student until she met the godlike machines that sat in the lecture halls next to her. She made a few good friends who were closer to her style of school/life balance and made it through the first two years with decent grades and some fun memories. Morgan only went home for a couple of days over the holidays both years and it was fine, but she was reminded every day about how poorly she and her stepmother got along and felt the urge to get back to school.
This year would be different, but not in the way Morgan expected. She would be turning 21 soon, and she was halfway through her third year. She was a grown up, and it was time to let the water pass under the bridge for good.
Sitting in a cell a few days after Christmas, alone and cut off from everything she knew and everyone she loved, Morgan would soon realize Delia would prove once and for all that no bridge could ever be built between them.
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Walmart in the Midwest was different from Walmart in California. At some point in the modern era, Walmart had taken over as the town square for a huge swath of the country. Californians, on the other hand, have an overabundance of choices to shop at, and when Morgan suggested that the friend group go there to shop for study time snacks, they laughed. They said Target was worlds better than Walmart, and It didn't take long for Morgan to agree. She felt like it was a huge milestone to leave the slightly shoddy comfort of Sam Walton's home away from home behind forever.
A few days after Christmas when Morgan volunteered herself for a supply run, she was pleased to see that there was Target nearby, but it was a town over which might as well be a million miles away in Ohio's winter weather. Add that she was out of practice driving, well, anywhere really, but especially in the snow, Fairfax's Walmart would have to do.
At least the self-checkout line was empty. She hadn't seen much of her old hometown on this visit, but she did notice that the stores were starting to catch up with the tech that had been in use for years on the left coast. There wasn't a mask in sight though. Morgan had one in her hoodie pocket, but she'd only worn it once and that was on the Uber ride home.
Morgan's dad had given her a credit card to use for personal expenses in addition to giving her an allowance and paying her tuition. The family had never been wealthy, but he was incredibly wise with money so when she showed her father the loan options he laughed and told her it was taken care of.
She'd repaid him the only way she could; she'd stayed out of trouble, only used the card in emergencies, and focused on her studies.
Morgan texted him while pushing her cart through the oddly empty aisles. "Hey dad, I'm getting stuff for the house and my trip back. I'm going to use the card, ok?"
"Aye aye, Captain!" Morgan's dad texted her back.
It wasn't just Walmart, the whole town seemed too quiet. It took her a little while to remember that most people were at work while she was off from school, her father and sister being two of those people.
Delia was at home, but Morgan didn't know where. Home was a sprawling 4000-foot two-story house with a large basement and two huge yards that her father had inherited when his parents died. She knew that her stepbrother was in the basement. He'd talked her into going down there for some Halo and weed (she'd passed on vaping the weed and kicked his ass in Halo) a couple of times but ultimately found basement life mildly depressing and was loath to return, so she'd left without a word to either of them.
While she was scanning her items, Morgan noticed that the self-checkout attendant was hovering behind her, poised to help. It made her feel self-conscious, like she was maybe doing something wrong. Surely there was a reason that the dozen or so people who were stacked up in lines for real cashiers to scan their stuff, but Morgan couldn't figure out why.
She piled all the stuff in the cart rather than use the plastic bags. She'd forgotten her canvas bags in the trunk of her family's ancient Accord, but seeing that no one else was using them, maybe that was a good thing? It was all very confusing. Surely two-and-a-half years in California hadn't changed her that much.
Halfway to the car Morgan realized that she had forgotten to scan the case of Red Pop! that hid under a bunch of stuff on the bottom rack of the cart. She turned around and was met at the door by a Walmart employee that was at least five years younger than her and a Fairfax police officer. The Walmart employee was pointing at her while the officer spoke into the radio mic on his shoulder.
"Oh my gosh, oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! I'll go in right now and scan the pop. I can't believe I forgot!"
"Hang on," the officer said, barely looking at her. Morgan stopped her cart just inside the concrete bollards, trying to stay out of traffic.
"We've got her on video," the Walmart employee said. She was the same self-checkout attendant that had hovered so helpfully while Morgan checked out. "The manager is coming down with the tablet to show you now."
"I just forgot! I'll go in and scan it, okay? I paid for the rest with my credit card."
