FAGB: Economic Crisis in Rural America Creates New Opportunities by Joe Doe

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Caught between rising prices for inputs like fertilizer and seeds, and cratering commodity prices, farm bankruptcy’s increased by 55% last year. In 2025, tariffs caused prices to fall even further, sending farm economies into a tailspin.

“You can see it in our downtown,” laments Jeb McDonald, known as “Old McDonald” to his many friends. “Stores and restaurants closed, all the young people moving away. The joke around here is the only jobs left are for bankruptcy lawyers and auctioneers.”

Nebraska’s 6% decrease in GDP in the first quarter of 2025 has created unexpected opportunities for some businesses. Art’s Sales Barn & Stock Show, located in Grand Island, has hired 8 employees in 2025, and owner Art Crawford says he’s always on the lookout for a good auctioneer.

“A talented auctioneer makes it fun, and people get to know ‘em, and come to see the show. Even if they don’t buy anything out of the sales ring, they’ll buy a soft drink or something out of the store. People treat it like a social event, and with all the slave pussy we have moving thru here, there’s plenty to see, if you catch my drift.”

Crawford showed us a line of twenty women, all kneeling and naked, except for their slave collars. As per the rules, they kept their eyes on the floors, their hands behind their head, and their legs spread as Crawford slowly walked down the line.

“They’re going to be auctioned next weekend,” Crawford said. “You want to time them so you get the little heifers trained enough to put on a good show on the block, while turning them fast enough so you got room for the next batch. Right now I’ve been sticking ‘em two to a cage, and they’re too worn out from licking each other all night to train right.”

As Crawford spoke of the nocturnal love-fests, a few of the slave girls smiled, while others blushed. Nothing this, Crawford said there training was not complete, and cracked his slave whip in the air.

The slave girls were reluctant to tell their stories, until he cracked his whip in the air.

“I didn’t even realize I was collateral, until the Sheriff showed up,” the slave girl once known as Jenny Green said. “My Dad had made the loan with the local Coop, and he trusted them, but they sold the loans to some big hedge fund in New York, and the second Dad missed a payment they swooped in and took everything. I guess putting you wife and daughter up as collateral is pretty much a standard clause in most loans these days, but people don’t ever think it’s really going to happen.”

Crawford patted Jenny on the head as he unzipped his pants. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little slave girl head about those things anymore, girl,” he assured her, as he placed his member in her mouth. “All you need to worry about is making your master happy.”

Hedge funds have become a scourge for young women in rural America, as “pussy snapping” has become the rage on Wall Street. The commission on auctioning slaves, which the fund shares with the auction market, can run as high as 50%, and combined with exorbitant default penalties and the interest and principal of the loans themselves, selling farm girls into slavery is now a billion-dollar industry. Wall Street traders jokingly refer to as “hedging the hedge” or “the hedge selling the bush,” but for the young women in their crosshairs it’s no laughing matter. And fleeing the farm is no protection.

“Ironically enough, I was teaching a graduate level class in Investment and Consolidations at Princeton when the slave catchers showed up in my classroom,” Professor Julie Jenkins explained. “There were six of them, and they were armed and had warrants, so my class just stood and watched as they stripped me naked, gagged, cuffed, and collared me. It was incredibly humiliating, but from a strictly business perspective I have to say that I agreed with their logic. It’s better to start the conditioning as soon as possible, and get the girl used to the idea that her old life is over. Plus, it’s less likely that I’m going to escape, or anyone is going to try to help me, if I’m naked, cuffed, collared, and gagged.”

“I knew things were tough on the farm, but I hadn’t realized how tough,” Professor Jenkins said. “I wish Mom & Dad would have told me, because I have more than enough money to buy their farm, but they’re very proud and didn’t want to ask their Wall Street daughter for help. Funny thing is, it meant I was the one who needed the most help.”

Julie blushed as she recalled her ordeal. “My husband repeatedly offered to buy me back from the slave market at a premium, but the manager of the local slave market was unforgiving. He called me “Professor Princeton”, and said I was ‘a stuck-up little bitch, and now I’d have to go thru training and squat on the block like the rest of ‘em.’ My husband bought me back, but now I have an ass brand as a souvenir. Needless to say, I keep a close eye on Mom & Dad’s mortgage and credit lines. You need to be careful, or as one of my friends said, “FAGB: fuck around, and get branded.”

Julie Jenkins escaped the collar, but most are not so lucky. The slave formerly once as Rebecca Fields was known for her smile and beautiful red hair, but doesn’t have much to smile about these days.

“Our town is pretty small, so when they foreclosed on us, they setup the auction so that it would take place right on our property,” Rebecca explained. “The bankers wanted me, but they also wanted my mom. She’s 37, and is still pretty hot, and she’s a ginger too. I know she’ll bring a good price.”

“They evicted my dad, but my mom and I got to stay, and get everything ready for the auction. Of course, we had to do it butt naked and collared, with everybody in town trapsing thru our house and all around our farm to look everything over, including me and my mom.

The “preview period” meant all the horny neighbors and the losers I wouldn’t date back in High School got a chance to pull up in their trucks and give me a good going over. I had to let them stick their fingers in my mouth and in my twat, and bend over and show my butthole. Even the guys who I thought were nice, and some of the girls too, treated me and my mom like meat once we were naked and collared. ‘You can’t be friends with a slave girl’,” is the way my pastor put it, while I was riding his hand.”

“It’s really weird to have stand naked with your legs spready in front people in our church group, and my old teachers, and even a few of my cousins. The girls are always meaner than the guys, and even the ones who used to be close friends say that I’m a skank and a whore who deserved to end up in a collar.”

“It’s worse when they don’t even acknowledge you. My dad used to fish with the Sheriff, and Tammy Walters, who supervises the auctions for the banks, was in my mom’s bridge club. They didn’t even talk to us, or make eye contact, when they were checking out our pussies. Mom and I really felt like farm animals on a failed farm, like we once had names, and now we were just livestock to be auctioned off.”

“It’s nice to still be at our house, even if isn’t really our house anymore. The Sheriff told my father he should get out of town, and everyone was looking at him like he was the biggest loser on earth, which he basically is. I guess he’s going to take the money from our sale and start over, not that I’ll ever know.

“We’re still at the house until the auction, but Mom & I have to sleep in the barn now with the other livestock. It’s weird, because I used to be in charge, and now I’m just another animal, eating the same feed, peeing outside in the dirt with everyone watching, and sleeping in the same straw. We’re all going to be sold together, and I wince every time I see where I branded the cows and horses. Things sure are different on the other end of the branding iron.”

“The worst part was me and mom had to build the auction block in front of our house, with all my neighbors sitting on the front porch in the swing and rocking chairs, chugging beer and laughing about how great it was going to be to see us dancing up on the block, doing our squats. I felt like we were building our own gallows.”

“Looking back, I should have known something was up. Mr. Dryer, the loan officer at the bank, came to see my team play volleyball down at the rec center, and he was even taking pictures of me and some of the other girls. Afterwards he came up to tell me and a couple of the other girls that he liked the way we ‘painted on our pants’ and that we should call our team The Camel Toes. He thought he was pretty funny, but I told him to fuck off, and go jerk off at home, and everyone laughed. He got really angry, but he got the last laugh, because a week later I was collared, naked, and bent over in the barnyard. He said my camel toe felt as good as it looked.”

In struggling rural communities it’s not unusual for hedge fund managers and bankers to make “scouting tours” to check out the local talent.

“In Texas, slave yoga is mandatory for all girls over 18,” Sara Plough explained. “We normally do it in our gym clothes, but a few weeks ago our teacher, Miss Lesbon, told us that we were going to do it ‘birthday bare’ and ordered us to ‘strip to the skin’. After we were all naked as newborns, she went around with a clipboard and used a red magic marker to write numbers on our chests.”

“We were about 10 minutes into our routine when three guys came in. The first guy was Reggie, who used to be in my classes but dropped out at 17 to go work at Sammy’s Slave & Livestock, which is where all the guys who can’t add or subtract but can crack a whip go to work. The second guy was Mr. Kruger, who works at the bank, who was all smiles as he surveyed a room of hot, naked 18-year-old girls doing their block moves for his viewing pleasure. The third guy I didn’t recognize, but he was wearing a suit, tie, and a watch that cost more than our school, and everyone called him, ‘Sir’.

‘Sir’, went around the room, commenting on each of us while Miss Lesbon talked us up and took notes on what Mr. Rolex liked. My heart was racing as I squatted before him, rubbing my pussy while he grinned down at me with those $$ eyeballs of his. Miss Lesbon helpfully told him I was ‘smart, athletic, obedient, and took direction well’, while he noted that “her tits were small, but her pussy is slave hot. Plus, she’s scared. I like that.”

“Damn right I was scared, and I raced home to ask Dad about the family finances with a curiosity I’d never felt before. My dad works as an elevator manager, and he said that while thing were ‘tight’ I had nothing to worry about, because he wrote a letter to the President who’s going to make us great again.” Needless to say, I wanted to barf.

Mom was more assuring, as she said we had money in the bank and she could always ask her sister for help if things got tight. I wanted to say that’s because her sister had the good sense to move somewhere where she didn’t have to spread her legs and have her pussy appraised like it was for sale on Antique Road Show, but as mom was on my side, I kept my mouth shut.”

“A week later Dad’s all excited because he gets a letter in the mail with a “tender offer, for tender pussy.”

"After careful review, your daughter, Sarah Plough, has been chosen for our select Tender Offer program. Because of her exceptional market value, we will arrange her sale for a 1% commission and a guaranteed reserve price of $50,000 USD.”

The USD part immediately got Mom’s attention, and she asked where I was going to be sold. Apparently ‘farm bred’ pussy is a premium overseas, particularly with buyers who want to teach red state girls a lesson. Anyway, there was a big argument, and mom shut Dad down.

All was well until a week later. There was a second letter, which mom and dad won’t show me, and now they stop talking whenever I come into the room. Not good.”

The private equity markets entrance into slavery has led to other novel financial structures, including “family pools” or “slave juice pools.” Related females sold as a group can bring additional revenue, particularly in overseas markets where the market for natural blondes and gingers can create a premium pricing situation.

“Dad thought they were being nice, but they waited until the day after I turned 18 to foreclose on us,” Linda Cooper explained. “My mom, my sister, and I are all blondes, so they wanted to sell us as a group. My mom knew my sister and I were going to be sold, but she didn’t realize she was part of the package until the day the Sheriff arrived. It was pretty funny, because she was telling us to calm down, and everything would be fine, but then went nuts when they told her to take off HER clothes. The look on her face was priceless, and it was the only laugh my sister and I had that day, or since.”

“They’ve been training us to eat each other and make out as part of our block performance, which is really twisted but it’s either that or the whip. We’ve gotten really good at it, and we perform like horny little slave monkeys, because that’s going to get us the best block price overseas. I’m not sure where we’re going to be sold, but at least we’ll have a rich buyer who can take care of us, and we’ll all be together.”

As bad as things are, they can always be worse. During the pandemic, Doug and Anne Bay left San Francisco to work remotely at a hobby farm they purchased in Georgia. “I was going to grow some tomatoes, and ride horses,” Annie explained. “But then Doug and I both got laid off, and we’re suddenly trying to be farmers with no capital and no experience. Nobody explained that we were the collateral, and when we went bust, we both went on the block.”

“Usually they’re not interested in men, but the old man who bought us has a hauling business and a gay son, so he bought Doug for ‘trucking and fucking’ as he put it. Doug has to ride around town naked all day and make deliveries, while I’m doing housework and ‘servicing’ my new master. Doug isn’t gay, so he hates coming home and getting fucked more than he hates delivering packages naked. But the worst part is the old man hates tech workers, so he likes to fuck me with Doug watching, and even makes Doug fan him while I suck the old man’s dick.”

“Doug and I don’t have sex anymore, but I don’t miss him as I’ve lost all respect for him. Doug has to go around naked all day, with everyone laughing at him and pointing at his dick, and sometimes women tease him until he gets hard. Of course, when he gets a boner then people call up to complain, and Doug gets hung upside down in the barn and gets paddled. The old man keeps threatening to have Doug ‘snipped’, so he’s become super passive and obedient, and can’t even make eye contact with anyone. He’s not even a man anymore, he’s just a cucked cocksucker, and that’s how everyone treats him, including me.

While the rise in farm foreclosures and resulting bonanza in farm pussy has left many disheartened, others point out the way slave auctions have brought much needed cash to rural America.

Charles Morgan of Mercy & Less Investments was bullish. “Some men look between a farm girl’s legs and see wet slave pussy. I see market liquidity. I believe in free markets, and I think most people do. People deserve to get what they voted for.”

Bill Brest of Farmers Bank in Riverview, Montana, sees advantages others overlook. “Sometimes, especially in the small towns, you’ll get ‘penny auctions’ where the neighbors refuse to bid more than a penny for the farm. Slave pussy solves that problem. That neighbor you’ve been best friends with your whole life may not want your tractor, but he you can bet he wants to fuck your smoking hot wife, and your cheerleader daughter.”

[RoBloch]

The distance between wild dystopia and current events gets smaller and smaller..

[Skylar21]

More and more our current situation is matching this story.
Building your own auction block has got to be humiliating.