I want to apologise for the extreme drop in quality this story initially had. I hold myself to higher standards and refused to sleep until I was absolutely sure this was finished. It's 3:25 AM here now. Sleep time for Symbri.

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A routine inspection forces a family into an unthinkable decision.

(No-sex, cannibalism, underage, dehumanisation, enforced nudtity, power imbalance/authority)

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Audra Pike had worked within the System for nearly ten years. During that time she rotated through Processing Centres and support staff roles, spending extended periods in intake and habitation zones. She became familiar with Animals before their final stage, often assigned to guide them through early facility routines and, when required, to escort them to the Chamber.

Butchers noted that Animals arriving under her supervision were consistently stable. They did not require restraint. They followed instruction without repetition. Many remained conversational up to the threshold.

Staff described it as a calming presence.

In reports, it was recorded differently.

Low-resistance handling. High compliance retention.

The System valued that kind of efficiency. Audra Pike did not remain in intake roles for long. Her performance reviews were consistent. Escalations were rare. Animals under her supervision reached final stages without incident. She advanced through supervisory placements and was eventually reassigned to field oversight. Her current designation was Animal Welfare Inspector.

Her work covered several districts within her region. Assignments varied, but most involved unannounced inspections of Processing Centres. She moved through Habitation Zones, intake corridors, and staff areas without prior notice, observing conditions as they functioned without preparation. Her responsibility was balance. Animals were expected to be stable and compliant. Comfort supported that. Compliance supported process.

On several occasions she entered facilities without identification, observing staff behavior before formal inspection began. In some cases, she entered through Intake itself. There were records of her registering under temporary designation and proceeding through early-stage intake procedures alongside other Animals. These instances were not widely discussed outside internal channels. Those aware of them often asked the same question. How she tolerated it.

She answered consistently. “My role is to verify conditions. If I am unable to pass through intake without disruption, then the process is not functioning correctly.”

She did not frame the experience as unusual. Clothing removal was procedural. Physical handling was expected. Instruction-response patterns were standardized. None of it, in her view, constituted mistreatment.

“Animals are not harmed by correct handling,” she would say. “If the procedure is followed, dignity is maintained.”

Another part of her duties involved routine inspection of Companion Animals. These were Animals reclassified prior to final processing and transferred to separate facilities for conditioning and placement.

Audra Pike preferred these assignments. Companion households were stable. The Animals were typically calm, polite, and responsive. They followed instruction without hesitation and required little correction. Most were well kept and, in many cases, well liked.

They did not perceive themselves as Human. That distinction had already been resolved.

Within the household, they functioned simply.

As intended.

On this particular afternoon, she had been called out to conduct a final inspection of an adult Companion Animal. The household had submitted a private slaughter application and paid the additional fee to retain the remains for personal consumption. Approval was still pending. Her visit was procedural.

She moved up the path without pause, her pace even, unhurried. The house itself did not draw her attention first. Her gaze settled briefly on the yard, the condition of the ground, the boundaries of the property, the placement of objects within it. Only after that did she register the structure of the home, the windows, the entryway.

Audra Pike was dressed in neutral tones that did not shift with the light. A fitted blouse, sleeves ending cleanly at the wrist, and dark trousers cut straight without excess fabric. Her shoes made little sound against the paving stones. Nothing she wore required adjustment. Nothing interrupted movement.

Her hair was drawn back and secured tightly, each strand held in place. It did not move when she walked. There was no ornamentation, no visible effort beyond maintenance. Her face was composed in a way that suggested neither focus nor distraction, only readiness. She didn’t scan the surroundings in broad sweeps. Her attention moved in small, precise increments, taking in what was necessary and discarding the rest.

At the door, she stopped fully. No shift in weight, no settling. Stillness, complete and immediate.

Audra shifted her laptop bag slightly along her shoulder, freeing one hand. Then she reached forward and pressed the doorbell.

It was answered by a young girl in a school uniform.

“Hello, dear,” Audra said, her tone even. “I’m here to see Casper.”

The girl hesitated.

Not long. Not enough to draw attention in most circumstances. But it was there.

“He’s… in the garden.”

The pause sat between the words. Audra noted it without reacting.

“That’s alright,” she said. “If you can bring him through to the lounge, I’ll get started and be out of your hair in no time.”

The girl’s expression shifted, just slightly. Her mouth opened as if to respond, then stopped. For a moment it looked like she might correct something, or clarify.

Audra stepped past her into the house.

“I’ll fetch my father,” the girl said instead, the words arriving quickly, as though chosen to replace something else.

“Thank you.”

Audra did not look back at her. She had already moved on.

Inside, the house presented as expected. Clean. Lived in. Ordered without appearing staged. Shoes placed neatly by the wall. Coats hung at even intervals. The air carried the faint, neutral scent of recent cleaning.

Family photographs were visible from the hallway. Not arranged for display, but not hidden either. Ordinary placements. Shelves. Walls. Frames that had not been moved in some time.

Audra set her bag down on a nearby surface.

The girl had said the garden.

She had not said he was coming.

That was the second point.

Not a contradiction. Not yet.

But a deviation.

The girl returned with her father. He was in his early forties, balding, comfortably past Lottery age. He moved without urgency, but not without awareness either. He knew why she was there.

Audra stepped forward and took his hand. Her grip was brief, measured. When he sat, she remained standing.

“And where is Casper?”

Her gaze shifted to the doorway as she spoke. No one followed them in. Another discrepancy.

She had met Casper before. Routine inspections. Habituation checks. He had always presented correctly.

He did not hesitate when addressed. He followed instruction without repetition. He anticipated routine. He had been purchased at fourteen. The last time she saw him, he had been approaching twenty.

He had been consistent.

He had not required correction.

“Yes,” the father said, with a small, apologetic shift of his shoulders. “I’m afraid you just missed him.”

“Pardon?”

“We slaughtered him last night. The whole neighbourhood came to say goodbye and then we cooked him over the coalpit in the garden.” He rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at her directly. “That was his preferred method. He’d said so, if it ever came to it. Aware. Present.”

“Dad,” the girl said quickly, sharper now, “she doesn’t need to know how you killed my big brother.”

He exhaled through his nose, a faint correction in posture.

“Now, now. He wasn’t your brother. Not really.”

Audra didn’t react to the girl calling Casper her brother. He had been with this family longer than most other Companions so it wasn’t unexpected for them to humanise him slightly.

She had reviewed Casper’s file that morning. Routine preparation. Status, placement, recent notes. There had been no approval listed.

There should have been.

“One moment,” she said.

Her tone remained even. She set her bag down, opened it, and removed her laptop with practiced efficiency. The device came to life without delay. Login credentials entered cleanly. The System Database resolved into view.

Casper’s file opened.

She located the application.

Submitted three days prior. Completed correctly. No omissions. No irregularities. The kind of submission that typically passed without issue.

Approval status: pending.

Nothing in her expression changed.

Instead, she adjusted her grip on the laptop slightly and shifted her attention back to the room.

“Before we proceed,” she said, “I’ll need to confirm a few details.”

“Do you have the required documentation of the slaughter taking place?”

“Yes, we do,” the father said.

“And the remains were handled correctly?”

“Our neighbours can confirm we did everything by the book.” His hand moved again to the back of his neck. “Did—did we miss something?”

Audra gave a small, controlled shake of her head.

“I’m completing due diligence,” she said. “If you can show me the recording, and any remains not yet consumed or buried.”

The family didn’t delay.

The footage was already prepared.

Audra watched without interruption.

This portion of her work was procedural. Observation, verification, confirmation. Emotional response did not assist the process and was therefore set aside.

Casper spoke clearly. His statements were coherent and consistent with recorded consent standards. There was no indication of hesitation or withdrawal. He understood the sequence. He understood the outcome.

The method had been followed as described.

She did not pause the recording. She did not look away.

Everything required was said before continuation.

When it ended, she closed the device without comment.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Can you please have the rest of the family gather here.”

She looked to the girl as she spoke. The girl glanced at her father. He gave a small, confirming nod. They moved without question.

The room settled into silence as they waited. Audra remained standing.

She knew what would follow. There was no uncertainty in the sequence, no ambiguity in the outcome. The discrepancy was clear. The correction, already defined. It registered, briefly, as something close to discomfort. They had followed procedure. Documentation was complete. Method was correct. Consent had been established and recorded. There had been no deviation in execution. Only in timing.

She let her gaze move through the room again, taking in the photographs more carefully now. There were more than she had first noted. Not clustered, not curated. Integrated into the space—shelves, walls, surfaces. Casper appeared in most of them, positioned naturally among the family rather than apart from them. The girl’s earlier phrasing returned to her, noted without reaction. It was not a violation. There were no restrictions on language within the home. Terminology was considered adaptive, not prescriptive. It was simply uncommon.

Audra’s attention shifted back to the family as they gathered. Everything else had been done properly. That would be noted. Then corrected.

The rest of the family entered in sequence. The mother first, slightly younger than her husband but not by much. She carried a small child on her hip, a girl of three or four with curly hair and flushed cheeks, her weight settled comfortably against her. She did not appear unsettled by the presence of the inspector, only attentive.

Behind her came the last of them. A teenage boy, older than the schoolgirl, lingering a step behind as he entered the room. His clothing was darker than the rest of the family’s, heavier in tone. Metal caught the light at his face—small piercings at his nose and lip, reflecting briefly as he turned his head. He did not sit immediately.

Audra sat.

The family followed, with the exception of the eldest boy, who remained where he was.

“I’ve reviewed Casper’s final moments,” she said. “Consent was clearly established. The procedure was carried out correctly. There were no irregularities in method or handling. The remains have been processed appropriately. Your application is well prepared.”

The words settled cleanly.

The parents allowed themselves a small release. Not relief, exactly, but recognition. They had done what was expected. They had followed the rules.

“But you acted before authorization was granted,” Audra added, not letting the moment linger.

The shift was immediate.

Colour drained from both parents at once, as though something had been removed rather than added. Neither spoke. The room held still around them.

The two older children reacted differently. Not with the same physical response, but with recognition. Something had changed in the structure of the conversation. Something had moved from confirmation into correction.

Audra remained seated, her posture unchanged.

“The application has not yet been processed.”

What followed required precision.

“Because of your adherence to procedure in all other aspects,” she said, “this can be resolved without escalation.”

She let that settle just long enough to be understood as leniency.

“Casper’s remains were privately retained. There is no need to reclaim additional material or pursue full household correction.”

“The System requires only one conversion. You may choose who among yourselves.”