Chapter 3
Back in the first room where the track started, four new guys were already waiting on their ball-strings.
Otis was idly playing with a tool from the gear-wall, flanked by Min and Max. They had waited for the duo.
"Yo, I checked up on everything," Conner said. "Our BJ-boy is safely stored with the A-class guys."
"Good," Otis said. "I'm glad we didn't leave any loose ends. Except, you know..."
"Yeah..."
What were they talking about?
Jeff looked at Otis. "What do you- Urrgh!"
Conner had e-prodded his flank. Jeff's abs flexed involuntarily, making him bow.
Otis laid an unknown tool on his neck. It was cool to the touch.
Jeff's muscles tensed, yet relaxed. He was paralyzed, but not in danger of collapsing.
This must have been the effect of slave hush, the substance Otis had so eagerly asked about.
Min and Max dropped Jeff on the table of discarded clothes and quickly stripped him.
"Sorry, pal," Conner said. "But you're Rammy's best friend. We don't trust you as much as we trust each other."
"Can't have you change your mind," Otis said.
It happened way too fast for Jeff to process mentally but his body was reacting. Even in his paralyzed state, he felt excitement rush through him hard enough to be dizzying.
Jeff was now naked and on display. He started regaining some control and his dick was hardening fast. Otis poked the slave hush stick into Jeff's pecs, paralyzing him again.
"I know it's dangerous to have two students go missing but as you said, they'll never admit a mistake and you'll just be retroactively declared a high risk individual."
Min and Max dragged their prey to the track. Conner was ready with gear. He put the wrist cuffs on Jeff, while Otis snapped the collar in place.
The experience was too surreal for Jeff to form coherent thoughts. Being unable to even tense up his muscled gave the situation a dreamlike quality.
Then the slave hush wore off again and with one second of terror, reality kicked in.
Jeff was about to get enslaved. A huge part of him cheered. He was going to get his wish. But a more rational part shook him awake.
"N-no..." he weakly mumbled.
Otis gave him another dose and Jeff became unable to communicate. His slack jaw was quickly invaded by the ring gag that would keep it slightly open.
Oh fuck, he was going to be a class A.
This was... incredibly exciting but also horrifying and fucked up. Couldn't they at least let him be class C? He would accept it. If only he could talk to them, he'd confess his huge fetish and they'd let him be a slave who got to fuck instead of a dick-caged one.
The slave hush wore off and the gang of four retreated. Jeff tried to talk and took a step forward. His balls were violently yanked. He was already tied to the track.
"Just in time," Otis whispered as voices echoed from the far door.
Enforcers entered, bringing more men to be enslaved. Jeff tried to communicate but he wasn't the only one. Several guys in line in front of him – not gagged – hurled insults and pleas at the enforcers. None of the future slaves bothered to tell the officers that Jeff was blatantly not supposed to be here.
Jeff got a hard slap on the back of the head and an enforcer broke his earrings off, snapping the studs rather than screwing them apart.
"What are you guys doing here?" asked a different enforcer.
"Sorry, we're just heading in," Conner said.
The gang put their items down and walked into the next room as if following a tour group.
Before long, the line started to move and Jeff had to step up to the heavy plastic curtain, pulled along by the unbreakable string on his balls.
He waited for a minute at the entrance before it was his turn. His dick was semi hard and a string of precum stuck to his leg. Yeah, he was horny. This was fucked up but a part of him loved every second.
The chain on his balls went taut. He had to waddle forward. It was time to become a slave.
The first station was the metal-detector-looking machine that gave Jeff a full body scan and – as he knew – deep scans for all sorts of medical data. As of this second he had a file in the system and if anyone noticed he was innocently enslaved, they would add a reason in hindsight.
His cuffs were forced apart as the string between them stiffened into a spreader bar. It would have been impossible now to hide his nearly solid dick without serious contortion. He just had to wear it proudly.
As the track made him shuffle into the "car-wash" Jeff instinctively closed his eyes and held his breath. He was sprayed head to toe with cool water, instantly followed by a foaming spray with a chemical smell.
Brushes on robotic arms closed in from all sides. This was why Ramon had screamed – the brushes were harsh. Jeff's skin got scrubbed and there was no escape, no way to pull aside.
The brushes followed his body's contours perfectly, using the scan data from seconds ago, and adjusted to every motion he made. His scalp got roughly massaged. There were even brushes in the floor, cleaning his foot soles as he walked over them.
Jeff got foam in his mouth and tried to spit. Without being able to close his lips this was a futile endeavor.
Fuck, this wasn't sexy. He lost most of his boner.
The foam got washed away by a spray of warm, almost hot, water. Jeff emerged, dripping.
He hadn't even oriented himself when someone grabbed him by the collar. He looked over, trying to blink away the water, and saw an enforcer's face.
A rubber hose entered Jeff's ass with a single push. The teen couldn't help but whimper. The intrusion was brutal but the hose was thin and flexible enough to not injure him.
The enforcer grabbed his balls and crushed them.
Jeff scream-moaned. This hadn't happened to Ramon. They probably didn't do this when touring visitors were watching.
In vain, Jeff tried to pull away by walking faster, but the track had only one speed. The college athlete leaned into the ball crushing, knees weak.
Meanwhile, the hose expanded in his guts and grew longer. It pumped a mildly burning substance in, then out, then in and out again as it grew into him.
Jeff tried to look pleading but could only whine at the enforcer.
The next slave exited the wash box and Jeff's balls were finally let go. He felt the pain swelling still as he drudged along, especially with his guts getting violated at the same time.
Eventually, he noticed the gang. They stood behind the barrier, blowing kisses at him. Conner formed a hole with two hands, Otis led a fist through it.
Before Jeff could even glare at them, a robot arm descended and held him by the collar. Led along this way, another arm popped a breathing tube onto his ring gag.
He was suddenly extremely relaxed and horny. Did they add an aphrodisiac to the air from those tubes? Jeff felt his boner rise again.
Another arm from the ceiling pressed black goggles to his eyes. Jeff blindly wandered into the hair-removal box. A dream come true.
Warm foam was sprayed at him and brushes returned for another dance. It wasn't that bad. It stung, yes, but as the brushes worked his shape from top to bottom, Jeff could focus on his fantasies.
The enema in his ass was still going, now reaching deeper into him than he had ever thought possible. Was that hose going to dig into his stomach or something?
The brushes almost tickled as they explored his ass crack, arm pits and the backs of his knees.
More foam. Oh shit, this one stung a lot more. The brushes rubbed it in and Jeff grunted into the breathing tube. Yeah, this was some tough stinging. His skin was paying dearly for the pleasure of smoothness.
At least it wasn't cold so he could focus on his pulsing dick. Thankfully his dickhead didn't get scrubbed. The brushes only went where there was hair.
The third load of foam. Oh shit, this was brutal. For a second Jeff thought he was getting bathed in acid. He instinctively pulled on the robot-arm controlled collar and wiggled out of the way but the brushes made sure he was soaking up every drop of foam.
He felt his head hair slip off him. A surreal sensation. The brushes continued to work on his smooth head.
Cool water sprayed at him with incredible pressure. He would have gotten knocked off his feet if the collar hadn't been held in place.
Had this really taken so long when Ramon had been de-haired?
A sound like lighting. Heat flashed over him. The smell of burnt hair.
A strong light pulse had made sure he would remain hairless for good – until the next session. Oh right, Jeff recalled that de-hairing had to be repeated about once every five years. Not something he looked forward to.
His ball-string and collar guided Jeff around a bend in the track, through a heavy curtain.
Hot air blew on his dripping wet body. Funny that he hadn't seen that part during Ramon's enslavement because without hair or clothes there was no way to tell if somebody was getting blown by a strong wind.
An enforcer sprayed some anti-adhesive on his goggles and they slipped off Jeff's face. The breathing tube popped out and retreated, along with the ceiling-arm that held his collar.
The enema retracted to its original size and slipped from his hole. The clear water left inside him shot out with a force that made him shiver.
His eyes were finally getting used to light again and as Jeff trembled with a tiny anal orgasm, he saw his former friends sharing two bags of chips on the other side of the barrier, laughing hard but trying to stay quiet.
As Jeff shuffled along, he saw that the dehumanization-screen was more reflective from this side. He got a good look at his full-body self.
He was fucking gorgeous.
This slack-jawed, collared, hairless creature was almost unrecognizably different from Jeff the free citizen. His dick pulsed with every rapid heartbeat.
Jeff couldn't stop staring at his own reflection. He wanted sex, right now. This was the highpoint of his life. Another part of his mind was protesting but that part was getting quieter.
The experience of having been betrayed by his friends who now watched his enslavement was simply orgasmic.
Wow, that was a fucked up thing to like. Jeff groaned.
Then he looked ahead and finally registered the dozen or so hairless, bald men in line before him. He wondered how many were class A. There was no telling from behind.
The spreader bar softened to regular connected wrist cuffs and the ceiling arm retreated, freeing Jeff's collar.
Right away, he let his hands slide over his flawlessly smoothed head. All that time he had vainly spent styling his hair to perfections... Fuck. This was for real.
He slid his fingers downward. No more scruff. Smooth pits. Totally smooth crotch. The lightest brush against this dick made him breathe heavier.
He looked at the gang again, now somewhat hidden by his own reflection in the screen. The four college kids saw him look and flipped him off in sync.
Jeff swallowed hard. He wanted to jerk off right now but he knew he'd get that opportunity shortly anyway.
His hand brushed past his dick and tugged on his balls. They had never felt so smooth. He couldn't help let his hands slide around on his body as much as the string between his wrist cuffs allowed.
The sensation was erotic enough to make him tremble. He snuck another glance at his reflection, inadvertently meeting the eyes of his gang mates again just as his fingers brushed his nipples.
The four college kids on the other side of the barrier were talking to each other but kept looking at his obscene display. He wished they could come closer and insult him to his face.
Wow, that was a fucked up thought.
He should hate them – and part of him did – but he nearly cummed just from rubbing his pecs as he thought of what they must have been saying about him.
Robotic arms dropped from the ceiling and grabbed collar after collar. Jeff straightened up but the arm considered him still too slouched, pulling his head up until he stood at full attention.
Enforcers went through, pressing the nanochip injector below the neck of slave after slave. As the men in sleeveless black attire walked along the row, they slapped the cheeks of their defenseless subjects – face cheeks as well as ass cheeks – and those slaps reverberated through the line, over the thumping acid techno and deep house soundtrack.
The enforcer arrived at Jeff and put the injector on. The young man anticipated a needle-like sensation but felt nothing. The injector was as painless as the ones at the doctor's.
Jeff relaxed as the uniformed man stepped past him, then a smack came down on his ass that made him jump. The robot arm jerked him back into position.
The enforcer reached through Jeff's legs and yanked the ball string, forcing the boy to bend his knees and whimper. Again, the robot arm forced Jeff back into a perfect posture.
Another enforcer walked by and shoved a thumb into Jeff's open mouth. The man forced the slave's head to turn toward him as much as the fixed collar's position allowed and spread Jeff's slack mouth.
Horny and terrified, Jeff held the officer's gaze with teary eyes. The enforcer spat onto Jeff's lips, some making it onto his tongue, some dripping down his chin.
Next came the bottle with a tube to prevent spilling from the ring gag. Jeff got the tube shoved into his throat until he retched, then water got poured faster than he could swallow.
As the first gulps made it down his esophagus, he noticed how desperately dry his mouth felt. He was thirstier than he had thought. Jeff drank as much as possible.
The moment the bottle was removed a drone pressed itself to his forehead. He only felt a light tingling as Skin Line Print altered his face forever.
He didn't even know his new identity. There was now a 2D code on his forehead and a number that replaced his name – overwrote his old self – and he didn't even know what it was.
The reflection in the dehumanization screen wasn't clear enough to let him see.
Otis made a blowjob gesture, while none of the others even paid attention to him anymore. So he was probably still part of the BJ line.
Jeff was distracted, trying to see his own face clearly, so he jolted as an enforcer pulled a black hood over his face. Through the eyeholes, he had reduced peripheral vision but he could still glance at the gang of college kids. Min and Max finished a conversation and looked back at him. They both had to take a second to find him in the lineup. This meant Jeff blended in – he was a true, faceless, interchangeable A class slave now.
This time, Jeff saw the drone coming. It snapped its belt around his chest and two fast needle-like stabs sank into Jeff's nipples. He jolted and cry-groaned through the mouth ring.
The second the drone left, Jeff's fingers reached for his nipples. The rings left him dully sore but a light brush with his nails made his dick twitch happily.
The robot arms along the collared men retreated to the ceiling.
Jeff looked down on himself to admire the nipple rings but his eyes were instantly attracted to his glistening dick and hairless balls that hung low with the ball string as a permanent little weight.
The track forked. Class B got to move to the testing room, while the hooded individuals had to head sideways. There were six total, with Jeff being number four in the row.
The track made them move closer together until it was impossible for Jeff to keep from rubbing against the guy in front of him.
That `front-guy' was a head taller than Jeff, had broad shoulders, a muscular back and walked with a swagger as if he owned the place. Jeff made sure to hold his own crotch so he didn't paint the guy's ass with precum.
Jeff felt a semi-hard dick slide under his ass crack. The guy behind him kept bumping his big pecs into Jeff's shoulder blades. The `back-guy' was shorter than Jeff and barrel chested with huge biceps.
The gang would not be able to follow him into the Class C room, so Jeff twisted his neck and took one last look at them, past `back-guy'.
Conner was waving goodbye, while the rest only grinned. They turned to leave before Jeff was out of sight.
Dark techno tracks played their thumping beats in the next room.
It struck the slave that he'd never see them again. Before he could start thinking about that, the track ended and the six Class As got shoved together.
"Turn to face me," said the room's head slave driver.
Jeff got e-prodded in the ass and so did a few others. He yelled a muffled "fuuuck" and nearly toppled.
He tried standing with his chest toward the slave driver but there wasn't enough space to put his feet next to each other.
The next e-prod jab went to his hamstrings, making Jeff's leg give out. He caught himself before his knee hit the ground. It was only possible to stand correctly by standing in `step' position – one leg forward, one back.
Ramon's group had gotten more space.
The equippers went along the row and pulled back foreskins were necessary. Lube was sprayed onto each slave's dick. The gel felt cool on his rod for a moment.
Looking along the line, the five others were either erect or rapidly getting there.
Jeff only noticed it when it was his turn, but there was another enforcer going through and applying gel spray to each asshole. Probably a `suggestion' that wasn't official protocol.
"Listen you horny animals," the slave driver said. "This here is a dick cage. We're locking your tiny friends away forever. This is your last orgasm. Make it a good one."
Another change – Ramon's group had been told they'd get locked for a few months at a time. Which one of them had been lied to?
Everyone – including Jeff – started to jerk off. Jeff used the method of bending over with his dick between his legs and rubbing the head like crazy. This exposed his asshole, the lube there making the air fell cool on his ass crack.
It didn't take a full second before front-guy took him up on the `offer' and buried his dick in Jeff's hole.
Pure ecstasy, but Jeff almost wished he could have been a little less desperately horny to appreciate the situation on an intellectual level. His last penile orgasm – perhaps ever – was from a slave-on-slave fuck.
With Jeff bent over, his hooded face was hovering just over back-guy's fat tool, which back-guy was viciously rubbing. Jeff simply moved in and liked the leaking dick head.
Back-guy didn't hesitate and made Jeff gag on his short but thick tool.
Front-guy pushed Jeff down to his knees, making the college boy slip off back-guy's dick.
Now on the floor, front-guy fucked even harder, making Jeff's body shake too much to suck off anyone.
Back-guy finished by squirting long strings onto Jeff's hood.
Jeff cummed. He had thought shooting his load into Ramon's mouth had been the best orgasm ever. Now he had a new first place. It was a whole body experience, with despair, anger, fear and the fulfillment of all his dreams shooting through his dick, out the pulsing gland and onto his calves.
Jeff cried out, almost squeaking. It made front-guy fill him up with a load that seemed endless.
The top pulled out and Jeff's hole sprayed the load, mixing front-guy's cum with Jeff's own.
"Time's almost up," said the slave driver.
Jeff couldn't stand up, and just basked in the violation, feeling the slick goo on his legs slide off in gobs.
The final slave at the end of the line cummed, kneeling bent over, fingering his hole, simply shooting ahead of himself.
"Aaand we're done with ten seconds to spare. Get up everyone."
An equipper stepped up to Jeff, heavy boots just missing the cum puddle.
"Up, faggot," he said and e-flogged across Jeff's chest. Getting e-flogged was like being e-prodded across a whole area. Jeff almost fell backward.
He rose into a squatting position but his knees gave out as he tried to rise.
"Obey, faggot." The e-flog went to Jeff's crotch.
A scream died in Jeff's throat as he strained every muscle fiber to get up. His oversensitive dickhead and tortured balls wanted to retreat into his body.
The equippers pulled all hoods off.
As the air hit Jeff's face – and hairless scalp – it felt like a welcome breeze even though the room's air was stale and still.
Front-guy had a strong jaw and mean eyes. His barcode had the number BJ-621 underneath it. Back-guy was more round faced and didn't reciprocate eye contact. His new name was BJ-629. They both were reddened and sweaty.
Jeff recalled how many class Bs there had been between him and front-guy. So his number was...
Jeff was gone. He was BJ-625 now, although he'd have learned his slave ID soon enough.
Maybe it was the post-orgasmic clarity, maybe it was the knowledge of his designation, but somehow it sank in stronger than before.
The x-harness was draped over Je- well, over BJ-625, and fitted to his lean torso. The slaves cooperated, except the guy at the end of the line, who got e-flogged on the back.
Before long, 625 and his fellow BJ-liners were hooked up to the ceiling and their legs got pulled in.
Being hogtied wasn't so bad but dangling off the ground felt precarious. 625 swung gently on front-guy's side until back-guy's legs were pulled up as well and they all got squished together.
The officers turned them to be face-to-ass, pushing 625 ever open mouth into front-guy's lube-slick ass crack.
For a few minutes, nothing happened, leaving the man formerly known as Jeff alone with his thoughts, breathing heavy breaths along front-guy's back.
625's hole wasn't totally unloaded, so cum dripped out every few breaths and ran into back-guy's face. He was kinda sorry for the man but it was also kinda hot.
The dick cages got fitted, two at a time, and equippers with bottles let the waiting slaves drink. 625 knew this was more `special water' to make them erect again for better cage fitting.
The two finished slaves at the front pissed audibly and Jeff strained to see but wasn't able to get out of the ass crack.
Completely defenseless, front-guy and 625 were cage fitted by rough and efficient hands.
It was weird having somebody fiddle with his genitals but with no visual he didn't know what was happening.
With nothing else to do, Jeff rimmed the hole right at his lips, making front-guy twitch and moan lightly.
"Shut up," the equipper said and e-prodded front-guy in the abs.
Jeff rimmed more, driving his tongue even inside. Front-guy arched and shook. He got the e-prod again.
This was kind of funny. It was as close as Jeff would ever get to living out his enforcer fantasy now, were he'd be Punisher Jeff and – hey, he was thinking of himself as Jeff again.
It made sense. He was still interested in being on the other side of the enslavement, although after a while in the dick cage, Jeff figured he'd get turned into a fist-craving sub through and through.
Various needled pierced his crotch at once. The cage had been fitted with piercings. There was no way he'd slip out.
Then came the sounding. At least BJ—625 knew what to expect, unlike the poor bastards who got a surprise urethra invasion.
625 groaned as the flexible tube made its way into his body, efficiently and unstoppably.
He pissed himself even though it barely felt that way since the piss didn't travel through his dick but the tube within.
Back-guy got to enjoy the result. 625 heard his sputtering as the man struggled to block the flow into his mouth with his tongue.
An enforcer dipped 625's head and 625 received front-guy's piss stream. It hit him in the nose and ran down from there. 625 just accepted whatever landed in his mouth.
Then he had to wait again, until back-guy and the last slave in line were fitted.
In the meantime, his dick tried to get hard again. The horniness returned at ludicrous speed. 625 felt his dick strain in the cage. He could go for another good fuck right about now.
The last slaves pissed behind him.
Then they all got spread out a bit more and the ceiling chains dragged them, ass first, back to the main track.
625 expected the stamp drone so he wasn't surprised when it landed on his lower back to add the QR code there.
But enforcers walked along the row of slaves and touched them. 625 could only keep looking ahead and slightly down until two enforcers were on either side of him.
The sleeveless uniformed men stopped at his side. Had they found out that he was wrongfully enslaved? Were they here to get him out?
One officer reached underneath 625 and brushed a ringed nipple, then tugged it. The other officer did so on the other side.
The same was happening a bit farther ahead to the lean guy who would be BJ-618 or thereabout.
Were they playing with their slaves?
Their hands wandered over 625's body, pinching him to get a reaction. One enforcer cupped 625's caged dick, the other massaged his ass crack and let a finger slip into the hole.
The enforcer pair farther ahead was making out over their plaything. Were 625's pair also kissing? He couldn't look up or hear them over the music.
One enforcer slid his thumb into 625's mouth and turned the hogtied slave 90 degree. Without further ado, he pulled out his hard dick and entered 625's mouth.
The other enforcer rammed 625's ass.
It only made 625 more horny. He wanted them to let him cum. He tried to squeeze his anal sphincter to get more friction and hoped for a good anal orgasm but he had never had one before. He wasn't experienced as a bottom.
The enforcer finished into 625's mouth and simply let the load drip down the slave's chin. The assfucking continued but now they were definitely making out. This was certainly not official policy.
625 didn't get the ass load. Instead the enforcer cummed onto 625's back and gave him a slap on the ass cheek that made him swing.
With one motion, a small plug got shoved into 625's hole.
The six class As got new hoods. These ones had been specifically printed for them following their initial scans.
As the hood slid over 625's hairless scalp he noticed how perfectly it was tailored to the contours of his face. It wouldn't slip out of place even during running or hard work.
625 was still swinging and turning slowly when the ceiling track moved ahead again, bringing the slaves, ass first, into the testing chamber.
As soon as their shackles got undone, 625 could feel the tension among the slaves. He was thrilled and intrigued to be where he was, but the other class A's hadn't dreamed of enslavement for their whole adolescence.
As they all flexed their free limbs, 625 could envision exactly what was about to happen.
The slave driver in the middle of the room gave his quick speech about the task vendor and the nude, humiliated men got in line to get their virgin task.
Hugging the machine, 625 was surprised at its warmth. He had expected cold metal but the faintly humming box was heated by its internal computations.
His nipples got a light tug as magnetic clamps snapped white tags on his piercings. The screen right in front of his eyes said:
Slave: BJ-625 (A)
Task 0092594522-01: Complete training tutorial under instruction
Time Limit: 10 min
Equipment issued: None
Supervision: Permanent
"Get to your stations," the slave driver said.
Enforcers e-prodded and kicked three slaves at a time to each station. 625 ended up with two random guys, him in the middle. His neighbors nervously looked around, tense and agitated.
"We're going to test your physical abilities now. That means exercise. Oh, and torture, just to keep us entertained. We'll flog and punch and rape you all we want. Actually let's start with the latter. Eyes forward on the screen. Do not turn around."
625's plug was pulled out of his sore hole and so were his neighbors' going by the sound of wet slurping and their surprised grunts that were audible over the speedcore playing in the room.
As the only one knowing what to expect, 625 wasn't surprised as the larger plug knocked at his backdoor but the other slaves went into a rage fit.
Fights broke out all across the room as the slaves dodged their violators and threw punches.
The familiar sensation of slave hush froze 625 in place. His left side buddy went to the ground.
The relaxed paralysis lasted even as the e-flog came down on 625's back. It was as if the harness didn't exist – the high tech flogger translated the pain right into his skin.
As the paralysis broke, 625 stumbled forward, got pulled back by the collar and was e-flogged again.
Then the plug got shoved into his hole as far as possible. Another dose of slave hush relaxed his sphincter and allowed the plug full entrance as 625's eyes rolled back into his head.
Drool dripped from his lips as he leaned forward to ease the pressure.
"Face forward at the screen. Stand up straight," the slave driver said. "Now!"
Every slave got e-flogged on the balls by an enforcer whipping up through the slave's spread legs. Standing was tricky with so much pressure on the asshole and guts.
A cartoon slave appeared on the screen and started running on the spot.
"Run."
If standing had been tricky, running was positively overwhelming. 625's insides got a rough massage like never before. He grunted and moaned, flinging drool around as he bounced with every step.
His caged package tugged, drawing his attention almost as much as the nipple rings which flapped with the white tags. The sensation was dipping in and out of pain, just too intense to be purely pleasurable.
Occasionally an enforcer behind them would say "faster" or "keep it up" and prod one of them. It was impossible to tell which one he meant until the respective slave jolted from the prodding, so 625 and his two buddies had to race on the spot with fear anytime an enforcer spoke.
When 625 started to get dizzy from exhaustion, the exercise switched.
"Squats, now. Ass all the way to the floor and in the rhythm you see on screen."
625 dropped and found himself shaking too hard to get up. He screamed as he flexed his whole body into a straight position. He wasn't the only one screaming. The sound of loudly groaning men echoed over the hardcore music.
"Do not push yourself off with your hands," an enforcer said and flogged 625's right side partner several times.
625 made sure to keep his hands hugging his sweat dripping body. Then he let his fingers slide over his nipples. It gave him a jolt as strong as a prod hit.
Holy fuck, this was the most horny he had ever been.
"Pushups. Get your nipple tags on the ground, keep your back straight and fully extend your arms."
625 dropped to the ground, drooling onto the concrete. His arms were relatively fine, so he got a good ten pushups in before the exhaustion caught up and he got sloppy.
Nothing a quick e-flogging couldn't rectify as he found out.
Except the flogging didn't stop no matter how much he strained to achieve perfect form. Oh right, this was pain tolerance testing. 625 and his buddies crumbled on the ground as quivering messes and yet the flogging didn't stop. This was way more brutal than it had been during the tour.
He didn't resist, but he did scream. The room filled with the sounds of struggling men, either holding back from fighting their tormentors or trying to fight and getting hushed.
625 pissed himself.
"Get up, get the tags checked off, get in line at the door."
Trembling, covered in red flogging lines, drenched in sweat, drool and piss, the slaves walked to the vendor which snatched their nipple tags off. The task was marked complete.
At the door was a lineup of hoses.
"Take the plugs out, put the hoses in. If you do it right, they snap to your cages."
Almost everyone struggled to remove the massive plugs, aside from 625 and one other eager slave. The hose was easy to use and gave 625 a flush just like the first one back at the beginning.
While they got cleaned inside, the slave driver opened the door into a corridor.
"The red line leads to areas you're allowed to go in as your schedule permits. Around the bend is the break room. Wait in there until your next task. Now... Fuck off."
With the hoses detached, clean water shot out of the slaves' holes as they marched down the corridor in a lose file.
625's fingers wanted to his asshole. He was probably too tight to take a whole fist still. But he was willing to try.
The newly enslaved gang entered the dim "dance club" where over a dozen perfectly sculpted, hooded men were helping each other to anal relaxation.
The young man once known as Jeff breathed heavy with lust.
Much later:
625 was pretty sure he knew which slave was Ramon/BJ-603, but with each passing week it got harder to tell his former bestie from the other lean workhorses and fist-machines.
So far 625 had avoided crawling into the same sleeping pod as the boy he had helped enslave, had kept his distance at the feeding trough, had spent the break room orgy in the opposite corner from the now fisting-happy former-Ramon, and had made sure to stand nowhere near him during morning rollcall.
But he was fairly sure that the guy had no idea who "BJ-625" was and would never suspect anything.
It was no surprise.
The days were a blur of hard work, harder work, menial work, getting fucked by enforcers, strict exercise, just barely enough sleep, getting fucked by class C's, being hogtied and getting ferried between buildings, and having coveted break room time.
625 was probably safe to sleep or eat beside his former friend and see if he could be a friend with fist-related benefits now.
On rare occasions, 625 remembered his life as Jeff but it felt so infinitely far away. And all it took to dispel the musings was a helping hand, inserted deep.
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abracadabra923@yahoo.com
See you in another story.