Gotta Pay the Piper

This story is set in the same universe as my Slave Camp series. Some of the same characters will appear. If you have not, you might want to read some of that story to get an idea of how judicial slavery and voluntary indenture is incorporated into my alternate society.

There will not be much sex presented. Certainly not graphic sex. Like most of my stories, I prefer to tell a story. The trip is the purpose. Not the destination.

+++++++++

I woke up Monday morning feeling sick to my stomach. I did not know if I wanted to throw up or cry. I just knew I had screwed up. Now I was going to have to confess how badly I had messed up to the only person in this world who I cared would find out, my daughter Joanne.

How could this have happened? Who would have believed that the damn Patriots could have pulled off a win during overtime in Sunday's NFL game? Nobody except the idiot loudmouth with more money than good sense.

I rarely go to parties anymore and don't really follow sports, but an acquaintance had invited me to a game party so I figured,why the hell not. I liked beer and needed to get out of the house a little more. We all scoffed when the blowhard announced at halftime that HIS Patriots would come back to win the game despite being down a record amount. No team had ever come back from that far behind.

The blowhard had already accepted a couple five thousand dollar bets and several smaller ones and was still asking if anybody else wanted in. I asked one of the guys if he could really handle that kind of action. The guy I asked told me "Oh, yeah. He regularly makes big bets. Wins some and loses some, but he always pays off and expects to be paid when he wins. "He comes from old family money."

I didn't care where his money came from. I just wanted some it. I had three and half thousand in my bank account. I was thrilled when he accepted my bet. I wrote out my check and handed it to the guy holding the money for all the bets. 'Told you all so!!" he bragged when he collected his winnings at the end of the game.

I was crushed as I drove home. I needed that money. Actually I needed $2500 of it by the end of the week or get my car re-possessed, and my utilities shut off. I was three months behind on all my bills. I could not get a cash advance from either of my credit cards, as both were maxed out. A quick loan was impossible as my credit rating was so far down the toilet it was stuck in the pipes under the house..

I was not overly concerned about the money itself. I am a multi-millionaire. Well, technically I had been when I sold my computer software company and its patents for a shitpot of money. My late wife had set up a trust fund/ foundation to make sure we were taken care of for life. But I digress.

Let me start again. My name is Bastien Landry. The English equivalent is Sebastian. I went by Bas growing up. In my late teens and early college years I tried the line that my name was "Bas" but a girl could get me without a hook as long as her bait was right. I thought it funny but none of the girls did. It certainly did not get me laid. I had another couple lines that were equally bad along the same line like tasting good and I liked to get baked and fried. I was kinda weird. No social skills at all. I admit it.

But I was Hell on wheels when it came to computer programming. I was OCD enough to stick with an idea until I could make it work or was forced by the need to sleep and eat to stop for a while. Years later, a psychologist said I was on the high end of the autism spectrum. Able to function pretty much normally but with a few quirks to make me very successful in my chosen career.

I was only twenty one and in college when I met this beautiful twenty four year old finance doctoral candidate and we hit it off. What the beauty saw in me, I had no clue. She thought I was 'sweet'. I had realized by then my dumb ass pickup lines were just that. I was now just a nerd doing my thing. But we fit as a couple. She was not quick to jump into my bed, but we started spending most of our free time together. We meshed. We got married a year later. I learned what great sex was.

She had a cute as a button six year old daughter. Having gotten herself pregnant while still in high school, Christine proved what a genius she really was by not only being a great mother, she excelled in college and finally got her Phd. She always claimed it was due to her parents' support, but you don't receive a doctorate from a little financial and emotional help.

Christine insisted I at least finish college with a Bachelor's despite my developing some crazy computer applications my junior year while we dated. Marriage was great. I was always somewhat of a flake and Christine was my rock. I could work crazy hours, but was expected to spend quality family time with her and Joanne. She brought me down to earth, back to reality. Those times at home as a family were the highlight of my existence.

I always had a weird ability to throw myself at anything I enjoyed and excel. Even multiple things at once as long as I truly enjoyed what I was doing. Anything I disliked got dropped like a hot potato and I could not force myself to do it.

Several years ago, Christine convinced me it was time to sell the fledgling company I started. The term she used was merge. I was no longer the boss. My programs and algorithms were incorporated into a major social media company. The stock I received in the process set me up financially for life.

Her word was gold so I did what she said and never looked back. She established a foundation with the proceeds. That trust bought up a six acre parcel of land just a couple blocks away from the University where she worked after a fire swept through damaging or destroying many of the old homes.

We built the home of our dreams. Not a particularly fancy house. Its modest looks outside belied the thought we had put into its interior design. I had more influence on the actual design than she did due to my attention to detail and overthinking. We set it back away from the road to ensure our privacy. Next door we built a second house where Christine's younger sister Brenda and her son now lived. Christine had promised her parents she would look after Brenda after they passed.

Being the genius she was, Christine organized the foundation to pay me a stipend of ten thousand dollars a month for the rest of my life with scheduled increases as I got older. At forty that amount would jump considerably. Combined with her salary from the university this meant we lived extremely well. Not stupidly rich, but we could do almost anything we wanted. We had hobbies, could travel. Basically our needs were taken care of with no reason to be concerned.

She told me we would increase the amount we brought home later. But she did not think it right for us to be one of the 'lazy rich' without a purpose in life. If we had some constraints, we would be better off in the long run. Better people.

Joanne would get a small allowance for living expenses at age twenty one and get her full monthly stipend at thirty. Christine was afraid of spoiling her daughter too much and wanted Joanne to make her way on her own. I think we did a great job. Joanne is now working on her master's degree at a major university an hour away from where I live. I digress again. I have a problem with that.

We had set ourselves up to live well, financially. Brenda could live next door with her son for as long as she she remained single. No house payments and even her taxes were paid. We all only paid for our utilities and whatever we bought. Brenda even got a small stipend of one thousand a month as long as she was unmarried. Her son Richard would have his college fully funded like Joanne but would not get a lifetime stipend.

Life was good. I loved Joanne and thought of her as my own daughter. She was legally if not biologically. I adopted her. She called me Daddy. Outside of her grandfather, she had never had another male figure and he died when she was ten. Christine and I wanted more children but despite all efforts, she could never seem to conceive.

So eight years ago when Christine was thirty three and after years of trying, we sought a medical reason. Christine had uterine cancer. An immediate hysterectomy with chemo and radiation therapy and we were told all of it was gone. We resigned ourselves to having only the one child, but life was good. We were happy.

Five years later, we knew differently. The cancer had come back and spread. Within a year she was gone. I was devastated. At thirty three I was a widower. Joanne was nineteen. We clung to each other and somehow pulled through. We lived together for the next couple years and, a genius like her mother she graduated early and was accepted into a program for her Master's degree. She was only a hour or so away, but it felt like she was on the moon.

I have not done so well for the past year or better since Joanne moved out. I will admit I am a screwup. It is not that I drink too much. Or gamble too much. Or do anything else too much.

I do find myself on occasion waking up in my car in the casino parking lot broke. I knew I walked in with a couple thousand and remembered being up several hundred and then I would stay and keep drinking. I tend to binge at times. I confess.

My big problem is that if I want to do something, I do it. I have gone on four cruises in the past year. I flew to Australia once and stayed two weeks. Another trip to Paris, just because Christine and I had gone there once and I wanted to remember the fun times. Joanne knew I was going on trips. She did not know I was doing it mostly on borrowed money despite my monthly income.

Six months ago I choked down my pride and begged her to bail me out. She sat me down and we went over my debts. With my income from the foundation, I could have fifteen hundred a month just to play with and if I paid my bills like she scheduled, be debt free in six months. Six months has now passed. At my best guess, I slid so far it would now take me a year to break even. I had wasted that much money.

So today, the day after making what I knew was a solid bet but losing, I was laying in bed thinking about my options. Calling Joanne was WAY down my list, just above selling a kidney. The reason I had that three and a half thousand to bet was not that I had saved it. It was because I had not paid any of my bills.

As I lay there staring at the ceiling fan, watching it spin, I came up with a solution. Maybe I could borrow some money from Brenda. She had a decent job plus her stipend. I had borrowed from her in the past and had immediately paid her back so she should have no problem loaning me money again. Of course those amounts had been small, a few hundred here and there. Maybe she would not even tell Joanne. Even if she did six months down the road or, maybe a year, I could claim a victory over my problems. I just had to hold it all together for the time being..

I walked next door. Brenda answered my ring and invited me in, giving me a hug. She looked a lot like her older sister and even smelled similar. I got a chubby. But as soon as she opened her mouth, something in my primal brain said "NOPE" and shut down any real attraction.

I told her I needed money and asked if she could help. I reminded her she had in the past. Maybe not for this much, but I always paid her back and gave her a little extra that we both knew was for her silence. This time she refused. Her explanation was not the "I'll have to think about it" while she wondered when I might pay her back. I had expected that.

"Maybe I can loan you the money if you indenture yourself to me for a year." Brenda suggested coyly. "You'd look cute running around the house naked except for a little green collar." I almost walked out of the house right then. I suspected she was more than half serious. She'd come on to me a few times over the years after Christine died. Even before that she had teased me in front of her sister.

"I have to ask Richard." she replied. I could not figure what a kid might have to do with her helping me but she insisted she had to confer with him. I wondered why that would even be a consideration. I had taught the boy to drive. His father had been around for only a short time before he got himself killed. Despite Brenda having a few boyfriends over the years, I was the main male figure in the boy's life. No progeny of my own and I had mentored a pair of kids. Richard and I got along well.

He was away somewhere, but came home immediately since it was me asking. He listened and then pronounced his verdict. Not unless I enter the Program. I was confused. One, why did this kid have that much power over his mother? Two, he could refuse me after what I was in his life? and three. What the hell was the "Program"??

He said he would make a call and tell me when and where to go for an explanation. I went home confused and, to be honest, totally pissed. Neither Brenda nor Richard had said a word about not being able to afford helping me.I knew they did not have a lot of excess money but Brenda had a good job as an insurance adjuster. Instead, it came down to my being part of some nebulous 'program'.

A few hours later Richard called to give me an address and a time to meet a man named Gary Atwell at his home. I knew that name from somewhere. As we introduced ourselves, I realized our paths had indeed crossed. He was a junior associate with the law firm that oversaw some of my foundation's activities. Only a portion of those activities, but that drew enough revenue that my name was well known within the firm. Brenda and Richard had briefed Gary about my financial problems. After listening a bit Gary nodded and began to spin a tale that I had trouble believing was true. Of course I had heard stories.

""Do you know what a conservator is?" Gary asked. I shook my head. "Well that is where somebody is named to be the guardian of another person. Even an adult. The guardian makes choices of the incapacitated person under their care." I asked why would that would pertain to me.

"Let me begin with some background." Gary said. "This is not bandied around much in the media. Well except in cases of high profile celebrities. Like the blonde singer who was just on television trying to get out from under her father's control. The woman is almost forty yet her father has the same authority as if she was a teen." I nodded. I admitted to vaguely remember seeing it discussed on television. Far more often you saw reports where a celebrity got into trouble and wound up enslaved for a year if they got convicted at all. Almost always they wound up the property of their own family.

"Well it is worse than if she were a teen." Gary continued."She has been declared incompetent. She can not make even minor decisions on her own without her father's approval. How long she stays out at night, who she dates. not even her medical decisions. They mentioned in one of the stories her father mandated she get the birth control implant any slave would receive. A lot of women get one of course as it is the best birth control available, but she had no choice."

'Her case is high profile, but not so much more restrictive that many others." Gary explained. "In her case what got her in trouble was her inability to cope with always being in the public eye. Too much drinking, some dope. Generally getting into minor skirmishes with the paparazzi. It boils down to her inability to make sound decisions on her own."

"So what does that have to do with me?" I asked. " Or this program?

"EVERYTHING!" Gary answered."In recent years there has been a growing interest in just how many of the homeless on our streets are there simply because they just cannot quite handle their affairs. If a family member simply took the job of over-watch or be a supervisor, could they live in their own homes again? Some could and some cannot, but the politically correct decided it was better that society rules than the individual. It used to be you had the right to be a little nuts and live life like you wanted. As long as you were not a danger to yourself or others. Not anymore."

"If your next of kin is willing, he or she can petition the court to be your guardian. Your conservator. In most cases, the role does not pay well if at all. Otherwise people would be lined to take charge of Granny's money. What is done with the money is also carefully watched. But there are enough well meaning people who want their loved ones off the street to get the movement going. In a society where we allow judicial slavery or even voluntary indenture, forcing a person into a legal guardianship was easily accepted."

"Again, what does this have to do with me?" I asked. "I have a home. I have an income. I am set."

"Yeah, but you are not paying your bills." Gary pointed out. "You are not staying on top of your affairs, getting further and further in debt. You are a half step away from your next of kin taking away ALL your rights and reducing you to having no more civil rights than a ten year old kid."

I was astounded. "And once your rights are taken by the court, it is hard to get them back. You get reviewed every five years. A panel reviews your case. Legal, medical, psychological. Of course you can appeal and plead your case if you can. But it is hard unless your guardian agrees you are at a point to resume being an adult, a mature and competent member of society. "

"Sounds like slavery to me." I grumbled. "Or at least indenture."

"No, you have rights. You cannot be used like a slave. But only the same freedom a child has." Gary admonished. ""Do you know what catch 22 means?" I was not sure so he explained. "It is from a book written like sixty years ago. If you claim you don't have problems and don't need the help, you prove their case. They show you are unable to make rational choices. It proves your refusal to try to get better, so you stay where you are. But if you accept their position and agree you need assistance, you also prove their position and stay in the conservatorship. The situation sucks." I was appalled

"How the Hell is any of the legal or accepted?" I asked. His answer did not relieve my angst.

"Once convicted or rather being deemed incompetent, it is difficult to prove otherwise. To prove you are better. Society is looking for a way to take care of it's 'needy'. the homeless or whatever. You can get caught up. Just from what you told me today, if your daughter filed, you could easily find yourself under her control for at least five years." Gary paused to see if I was following.

"It takes your next of kin to start the process. And the next of kin also has to step up and take a hands on interest and active control of your affairs. You will basically have to live with her unless there is a medical reason you cannot not. And she has to conform with a series of regulations to make sure your best interests are considered. By that I mean your daughter cannot take over to control your money and abscond with it. Yours is protected of course by the trust fund."

"Other than your daughter, Richard and Brenda, do you have any other relatives?" I shook my head. "Okay Richard and Brenda are not in the legal hierarchy. Now another question. Could your late wife have foreseen you might have a problem coping and that is the reason she set up the foundation?" I shook my head and explained we set up the foundation before we ever knew she had cancer. "Good. because if the other side showed otherwise, they'd have a slam dunk case. But if your daughter seriously decided to file, you'd probably be under her control just based on your recent history."

"So what is this Program." I asked.

The program began very quietly as a legal alternative to circumvent the courts and full guardianship. The premise was some adults who were otherwise very good at their professions, could not seem to manage their own family affairs. But they found they could turn over portions of their family affairs to an older child if that child was psychologically and emotionally developed to handle the workload. It was a win-win proposition. The adults got some relief from some of their duties and the offspring developed skills and maturity earlier than they might have.