Date: Wed, 22 Mar 2017 20:46:05 +0000 (UTC)
From: Abra Cadabra <abracadabra923@yahoo.com>
Subject: On The Slave Track

Content: a story about getting railroaded into enslavement –
figuratively and literally.


*** ON THE SLAVE TRACK ***

My brother had always been the more mischievous one of us, which
occasionally had consequences for me because we were hard to tell apart.

Not only were we identical twins but whenever I tried to change my style,
he copied me just to be annoying.

When I had started keeping my blond hair a bit longer, he grew his out,
too. When I took up weightlifting, he joined me just to show me up.

Sure, sibling rivalry is normal, but Abel was definitely the evil twin out
of us two, to the point where he had bit of a criminal record.

I could tell he was in trouble when he came toward me in the school
corridor.

"Arthur!" he greeted, way to chipper. "I need a favor."

With rolling eyes I asked, "Detention again?"

"Yeah, but I have a hot date with Claire. You can't leave me hanging, man."

He was abnormally eager, but this only gave me more leverage.

"If it's so important," I said, "I'm sure you'll gladly do my chores for a
month. All of them."

Despite his energetic nature, Abel paused and stood in silence. "...Fine."

"Wow, you really want that date, huh?"

"I think she'll finally let me fuck her."

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah," Abel said with a smirk. "I'd do the same for you, if you'd ever get
a date. Or a cock to suck."

Abel knew I was gay. It added to the million other things he teased me
about. Well, I was definitely going to take the deal. He hadn't even
haggled it down. One month of chore-free life for an hour of detention –
and it still went on *his* record after all.

We switched our student IDs. This had been sufficient to trick people for
years. Then we retreated to the washroom to switch shirts. He got my button
up and polo, I got his sweater with a metallica knock-off group's emblem.


*** THE ENSLAVEMENT BEGINS ***


When I showed my (actually Abel's) ID, the teacher sent me to a different
office. Weird. Detention had always been in the same class room.

In the end, I arrived at an office I had never seen from the inside. I
hadn't even been aware the vice principal *had* his own office.

Five other boys were already present. I recognized them as notorious bad
boys but not the worst this school had to offer. All of them were
successfully sold on the illusion, not looking my way twice. For the next
hour, I wasn't Arthur anymore.

"All troublemakers here then," said a strange man in a suit. He looked like
a secret agent in a spy movie and stood next to the sitting
vice-principal. "Let's begin."

The unknown man in black walked around the six of us and locked the
door. Now I was getting a bit worried.

Meanwhile the vice principal laid out six metal bands on his desk. "Today,
kids, you will be able to witness the beginning of a new program I'm
pondering to sign the school up for. If this pilot project is a success, we
will publicize it. Otherwise... not so much."

He shoved the metal bands forward. "Put these around your necks."

"Fuck no," said a tall athlete named Marty.

"Do it or be expelled, Mister Rose."

After a second of hesitation, Marty Rose decided to be the most alpha by
going first – since being alpha through defiance had failed. I
considered myself quite a bit above simpletons like him, although he *was*
smoking hot.

Once everybody had a band wrapped around their necks we stood in silence. I
felt a bit silly with the cold steel slowly warming on my skin that it
loosely hugged.

"I think that's all of them prepped," the man in black said and tapped a
button on his wrist.

Instantly the metal bands snapped shut as collars. Mine was too tight. I
could hardly breathe.

No, I couldn't breathe *at all*.

As I tried to signal my predicament I noticed that all six of us were being
choked.

"Good," the man in black said. "It's working. Now boys, if you want air,
you will have to do what the collar is programmed to respond to."

Blood was rushing past my ears, making it harder and harder to hear the
guy. The circulatory jam that the collar created by pressing on my artery
was making me dizzy and got my head pulsing.

Looking over, I could see all the other boys' heads bright red as they
fought for their lives. I fiddled along the collar but found no opening
mechanism.

"The first one is simple," the man in black said. "You will be able to
breathe again once there is not a single item of clothing detected on your
skin."

One of the guys, a broad chested asian – I think his name was Benny –
tore off his jacket immediately. I began pulling on Abel's sweater.

The dizziness reached a level where I had to fear falling unconscious and
subsequently dying. I *had* to breathe – now. My lungs were not just
burning – they spewed lava into my torso.

Then Benny managed to get his upper body naked and pulled his jeans off. I
heard him gasp hard, with a drawn out wheezing. He breathed.

Panicking, I tore on my sweater until it finally slipped over the choker. A
tiny bit of the pressure was taken off my throat and blood could circulate
again. It was better but not enough to let me inhale. I had gone over half
minute without air by that point.

My pants were held by a belt. With my shaky fingers, it was nearly
impossible to get the damn belt open so I just tore and tore until I
slipped it down my hips.

A little bit of air reached my lungs. Strangely, now I truly felt like I
was dying. Not getting *any* air had been surreal – not getting *enough*
air was what made it a terrifying reality.

Hopping on one leg, I pulled my socks off. There was not a split second of
hesitation with my underwear. I slipped out of my briefs and the collar
gave way. It stayed snuggly on my skin, but exerted no pressure.

The air tasted delicious.

I was going to see another day.

Now I had the presence of mind to see what the others were doing. Benny,
the thick Asian, had long finished. A black kid, whose name I didn't know,
was finishing the stripping. Marty, however, was about to die.

The tall boy's shirt had been caught under the choker, fabric stuck between
metal and skin. I grabbed his shirt and helped him tear it up until the
last piece of fabric was pulled away.

Finally we were all entirely naked. I got to see five of the most
well-built boys at school in the nude from up close– but I didn't
exactly feel like savoring the moment.

"Great," said the vice principal. "I see it works as advertised. Now the
second stage."

The man laid out twelve rings, which were slightly too big to go on our
fingers.

"Put them on your toes."

"What?" said Marty and was promptly choked for ten seconds. Since he didn't
know it was only going to last that long, he clawed at the collar as if his
life depended on it. For all he knew, it might have. None of us wanted to
speak up after that.

Slowly, we took two rings each and slipped them onto our big
toes. Unsurprisingly they tightened, but not as if they were going to make
our toes fall off – they just became un-removable.

I couldn't believe what the vice principal pulled out next. Those where
chastity cages. Metal tubes, bent to signify the curve of a dick. I judged
them as fairly big. Each one of us could comfortable get a semi hard-on
while wearing those, although a full erection would be impossible.

Then our air flow was cut off again.

"Breath returns once you wear one of those. Just snap it around the base of
dick and balls. Then add these to keep it in place."

The item we got to fixate the cages was a pair of what looked like
c-clamps, with cups that snuggly enclosed our balls. Both the tube and the
clamps were cold on my package.

The second I could breathe again, those clamps pressed my balls as if
trying to make them explode. All of us screamed. My ears rang from the
cries of five boys and myself. I bet none of us had known this much groin
pain in our lives. It radiated into my abs and upper legs.

I sank onto my knees and held my caged dick. There was nothing I could do
to make it end.

"For the next while," the man in black said, "we'll try this one instead of
the collar, since it can be applied indefinitely. You'll have to follow the
instructions if you want it to stop. This makes sure you-"

Marty shouted from his kneeling position. "Just tell us what to do you
fucking bastard!"

He was choked in response but he got his answer.

"You will form a neat row facing the door."

We crawled into position. I had come in last and never stopped staying
back, so I ended up in first place of the line. The pressure ceased, but of
course I still felt the full effect and would do so for several minutes
until my balls recovered.

"Now, you'll walk after me and stay quiet."

The man left and we struggled to keep up. We were not followed by the vice
principal, totally at the mercy of the secret agent sort of guy.

Wandering through the school naked was surreal to say the least but I
didn't have time to ponder because we exited through the first opportune
side entrance.

Shielded from the surrounding area by a high fence and bushes, we ended up
in a semi closed courtyard, with the road just 30 feet away. Said road was
now blocked by the back of a dark truck.

Once we had made our way there, the man opened the back and bade us
inside. I saw a dozen other naked boys already present. Together with us it
would get a little tight.

Strangely neither of them were restrained. How did the man think he was
going to keep us all from overpowering him? I figured we should use the
opportunity and was about to shout just before the man grabbed me by the
collar and pulled me into the vehicle.

My toe rings snapped to the floor. No, I could still move. No, I
couldn't. But... What was going on?

I realized it was utterly impossible to raise my feet. I could go on my toe
tips but the rings had to stay attached to the metal floor. It was still
possible to slide all I wanted, though. I was stuck on the truck's inside,
where I could move freely, but never leave.

What was that? Super powered magnets?

Abel! I caught a glimpse of his face, staring out from the door through
which we had just left. He was grinning.

He had known this was going to happen. And he let me take the fall.

The other five were shoved in behind me and the truck door closed. The now
eighteen boys were plunged into darkness. It already smelled like piss and
sweat.

We drove off. Within a minute the interior heated up to a temperature where
everyone was sweating all over. No one said a word. We were too afraid and
it was tough to keep standing in the pitch black, moving car.

The smell of piss increased when someone sprayed a ray against the
wall. Droplets of piss landed all over me and I heard Marty cry out. In the
cover of darkness, I bent down and licked the ground. Since I had no idea
how long the drive was going to last, I couldn't waste fluid. Plus I could
fulfill a long term fantasy of mine.

I guess it must have been half an hour. We stopped and the truck cooled
just enough to keep us at the edge of sweating. A few minutes later, the
door opened and six more boys were shoved inside. Now we were skin on skin
– sweat-slick, lean, athletic bodies rubbing against each other.

In the darkness no one saw me get erect and the chastity tube prevented my
suppressed erection from poking anyone. I didn't even what to imagine what
some of those notorious small-time criminals would have done, knowing a gay
boy was rubbing against them.

Audibly, a few of the new comers pissed. I decided it was enough to mask my
own pissing and sprayed from my semi hard-on down my leg to keep it quiet.

Packed too tight to drop down and lick the floor discreetly, I had to
settle for catching some in my hands and slurping it back up. I was sure I
heard some do the same. It was simply a smart move – and hot.


*** ARRIVAL ***


Another while later, the door opened again and this time there was no group
waiting to enter. Instead we saw the inside of a building. The truck was
parked right at the entrance to a concrete corridor.

Our toe rings detached and we hopped off. None of us resisted because we
saw the buckets of water in the hallway.

Greedily we pushed each other away to go first, four buckets for
twenty-four boys. We naturally distributed ourselves into the same units of
six we had been before. One from each school, presumably.

Once all our stomachs were sloshing with liquid, the ball crushers
reactivated.

"Why are you doing this?" shouted someone from the fourth group.

The man in black walked past us. "Instead of punishing you for wrongdoings,
we relive you of punishment for right-doings. Now, follow me in a neat
row."

Our ball pain stopped once we were lined up properly.

Then we marched.

At the end of the corridor, twenty-four thin, hip high poles stood before
us.

"Each slave pick one."

Slave? This wasn't permanent, right? As I stepped up to a random pole, I
thought about what was going on. The vice principal had called it a pilot
project. There was no way this would be going on indefinitely. Also, Abel
was going to get me out. Or my parents were. *They* could tell us apart,
after all.

All collars tightened. Breathing was once again a reward to be fought
for. It's strange how insanely panic inducing this collar was, even though
I was sure on a rational level that these people wouldn't let us die.

"Each slave sit on a pole so it pokes about one to two inches into your
ass."

Everyone hesitated. I didn't have much of a problem with this order. Sure,
it was degrading and horrific and all that, but I could imagine a million
worse things. Unfortunately, for a straight boy, anal intrusion is supposed
to be the worst possible thing ever.

If I appeared too eager, they'd know I was gay. I couldn't go first.

One boy from a different school hopped onto his pole. I had heard him sigh
just before the choking had started. He had exhaled all air before being
cut off and so was probably on the verge of unconsciousness.

Finally, the others moved and I pushed myself up on the pole and slid along
my crack. The pole was well lubed so I had to do very little else but relax
and it slipped in.

My collar detected the success and let me breathe. I inhaled quietly and
tried to look like I was still struggling to get it far enough in.

A few of the boys clenched so hard that it became impossible for them. I
wished I could say something to them about how to take a dildo, but that
would blow my cover and also get me punished.

Luckily for them, the man in black was joined by four more of his kind and
they all "helped" my fellow slaves by pushing their thighs down.

It took so long to get everybody on a pole that the program started before
we were all done.

Marty was still getting shoved down, when my anal cavity was getting
flooded. This wasn't a normal enema. It burned in a not-too-unpleasant
way. A saw practically everybody wince.

Having no idea what the substance did to my insides, I just kept watching
as Marty sank down with the strange enema spraying off his clenched ass.

A few minutes passed. I felt like the substance was making its way into my
stomach which would have been kind of crazy. Then I felt emptier and
emptier.

At some point, it was over.

"Get off the poles. Come along in a neat row."


*** ALTERATIONS ***


We walked down a lot of corridors. The facility had to be gigantic. In many
places there were four strips of metal along the ground, one inch wide
each. They were symmetrically arranged in the middle of each corridor,
except those hallways where the ground was just empty concrete.

The constant nudity was strangely exciting, but the air was a bit chilly
and I didn't feel as horny as I'd have expected, trudging along in the
middle of a pile of hot bad boys.

Our journey ended in a sizeable room, where the metal lines on the ground
ran straight through.

All throats closed up as the collars activated.

"Stand on the inner tracks."

We rushed to the metal bands embedded in the floor and formed another neat
row with one toe ring each touching the lines left and right, about one
foot apart.

In the same moment as the collar gave us back our breaths, I felt the toe
rings get stuck. Now I was confined to sliding along the metal again,
without the ability to raise my legs. This time, the confinement wasn't a
whole plane, like the truck's inside, but just a straight line.

Several more men entered. Those were also dressed mostly in suits, but they
didn't look like they had jumped out of a spy movie – those were
"normal" people, just looking. Additionally, a trio of men carried cameras
and began to document us from different angles.

"Gentleman," said the man in black I was most familiar with by now. "As you
can see, the test subjects have taken position on what we call *the slave
track*. Once they're on it, they're not getting off. Under any
circumstances. Those lines lead to every station in the complex where we
might need a slave to get to."

The small crowd drew closer and I felt like covering my chastity device
with both hands. Most other boys did the same, only a few stared at the
audience with contempt. No one looked at the cameras.

"We'll begin," said the man who apparently played host. "First we should
apply step one of three in sensory alteration. Simultaneously, the subjects
will be given their IDs."

What was he talking about?

I soon learned that "step one" meant being horribly mutilated. The three
men in black not speaking to the audience went along the line of us slave
boys and added a disturbing modification.

I couldn't exactly see what happened since Marty's huge back was right in
front of me and I didn't want to lean to the side for fear of being
punished.

Eventually, the men came to my position. One pulled out my tongue with a
pinching tool, the second one applied something that looked like another
c-clamp.

It was nothing like that, though. It was a piercing apparatus. One fairly
thick dumbbell was shot through my tongue. Then they moved on.

Wait, was that it?

No... I felt the piercing become active. It felt like vibrations, or
something being oozed, really hard to pin down. My mouth relaxed. First it
fell open as I lost control of my jaw. Next my tongue itself slipped my
grasp and became mostly unresponsive.

There was no way to speak once the mod had done its deed. My body had been
defiled. I wanted answers. I wanted revenge.

But the worst was yet to come.

Once the men had given everybody a slack jaw and heavy tongue, they did a
second round for the "IDs" we were to receive. One part was another
piercing, or something like that. A tag, similar to a ring but quite thick,
was shot into my nose like a septum piercing. It was so big, it blocked my
airflow completely.

Until I was finally freed from this hell and subsequently the mods, I was a
mouth breather. And so where the other boys.

All that was really fucked up, but I could calm myself. None of it was
irreversible. Once my parents figured out I was missing, I'd get out. The
others might not be so lucky, but hey, those boys were *actual*
troublemakers. And honestly, the idea of enslaving them was hot – as
long as it didn't also happen to me.

Then the men came along a third time and shot everyone in the forehead. At
least that's what it looked like. Since none of the boys in front of me
dropped dead, it was probably not an actually gun.

The pseudo-gun's metal was cold on my skin as it got pressed against me. It
burned when its load hit right in the middle of my forehead. I saw Marty
look around and realized he had a barcode were the gun had shot him.

I twisted around and saw Benny behind me get a barcode of his own.

The "host" left his audience and walked along our row, saying something
inaudible to every boy individually. When he came by Marty he said "You're
051-F". Then he passed me, glanced at my forehead and said "You're
051-G". Benny behind me was termed "051-H".

Again the men in black went through the line. How many things were there
with which they intended to torture us? When was someone going to show up
and save me?

I didn't have a fear of needles per se, but being given an injection
without knowing what it was freaked me out. It also freaked out most of the
others.

The syringe didn't hurt at all, but I couldn't help but feel my heart speed
up in response. What if that stuff was toxic?

"This medical marvel," said the host to the onlookers, "fulfills a variety
of purposes. Most strikingly, it removes the need for clothing by raising
body temperature, functions as a strong aphrodisiac to increase their
complacency and even rewires some nerves."

When I tried to swallow down my fears, I realized the tongue mod had also
taken my throat control away. I couldn't swallow. If I moved my head down
at all, drool was going to run from my open lips.

It took a few seconds before I noticed the heat. My skin glistened from
sweat within half a minute. By that time, side effects had set in and my
drool production was fired up tenfold.

I saw the same things happen to the rest of the group – drool falling
from their slack mouths like viscous rain drops. Once the slave boy horde
was sweating like we had in the truck, I sensed warm drops hitting me in
the back.

As I turned, I could see Benny pissing. He wasn't even trying to aim down,
he just shot forward, right onto my legs. He shrugged at me. I was getting
painfully erect in my chastity cage. Was this the aphrodisiac already? It
was hard to tell, with the erotic situation going on around me.

Risking a look, I bent to the side. So far as I could spot it, all boys in
line behind me were now semi hard, which was all their metal tubes
allowed. I didn't look for too long, so I wouldn't be caught staring. If
they figured out I was gay, they might take their aggressions out on
me. And after today, they sure would have a lot of aggressions.

"Move it, boys."

The gate in front of the slave row opened and we all slid along the track
on our tip toes. It was a weird way to move. When we weren't as fast as
they would have liked, the man in black shoved us along. This brought us
closer together. I got pressed into Marty's thickly muscled back and Benny
pressed his chastity tube between my ass cheeks.

We stayed this close together when we arrived in what appeared to be a
lengthy shower with shower heads along the ceiling's middle. The door
behind us closed and foam dropped onto us in huge amounts.

It didn't smell like anything and nobody was dying right away so I did my
best not to get any into my open mouth but otherwise had bigger things to
worry about.

Then water flowed instead of foam and washed it all away. With it went a
lot of hair, leaving our heads and bodies patchy. Men in biohazard suits
entered and rubbed us down with more foam, getting into all the cracks.

Two more loads later and we were perfectly smooth from head to toe
rings. The sweat returned as soon as the water began to evaporate. My
unnaturally smooth skin getting sandwiched between two other such bodies
was insanely erotic and I decided to enjoy the moment. This was as close to
fucking as I had ever gotten and once I was freed from this place I'd
remember the body contact most fondly. The rest, not so much.

We marched on, into the next area along the slave track.

Rejoining the audience, I saw a lot of fresh faces. These ones weren't even
formally dressed. My guess was, the first batch had been investors, the new
ones were just spectators.

"Sensory alteration stage two can begin. Afterward we will see if the
subjects can follow instructions."

The crowd came closer to watch "stage two". Someone stepped up right beside
me.

Abel!

My shocked face made him laugh.

"Hello brother," he whispered. "I think I'll keep your identity a little
longer. Always liked the name Arthur better than mine. Sad thing I'll have
to start fresh when I switch schools, but it would be too suspicious when
the great Arthur's marks suddenly plummet to my levels."

I wanted to scream at him. He couldn't be serious.

"I know what you're thinking," said Abel (the new Arthur). "How can mom and
dad let this happen? How did I get all this past them, including a school
switch? Well guess what? They suggested it."

What? No. Impossible.

My twin grinned. "They were all for it the second I told them my dear
sibling is a cock sucking, cum loving, dick riding, ass fucking faggot."

I'd get punished but I didn't care. I needed to reach out and beat him
up. He was close enough to drag onto the tracks. I'd kill him.

Then stage two happened. This time the men had started from the back end so
I was surprised when they were suddenly upon me.

Something like swim goggles without the strap was put over my eyes. An
incredibly bright ray of light hit me and I was momentarily blinded.

When the goggles were removed, the room was dark. No... my eyes were. I
couldn't see.

The blinding had been permanent.

My brother chuckled. "Good luck, fifty-one Gee, I mean fifty-one *gay*. I'm
sure you'll find a nice boyfriend here."

"Now then" said the host's voice. "We have altered speech and sight to make
the subjects easier to deal with. Leaves only one thing but we'll have to
save that for later."

The collars choked us again. At least I had to assume it happened to all of
us. There was no way to know what happened to anyone but me. "All slaves
hold onto each other. Wrap your arms around the one in front of you. The
next station... Yes?"

Someone whispered. I heard a few voices and I was sure Abel's were among
them.

Then the host spoke again. "All right. 051-B, F, G, K, N, R, S and W. I'll
turn off the slave track. The ones I named will slide their feet farther
out. The rest stays put."

I sensed the toe rings detach. Moving carefully, I brought my feet apart
until I got stuck again. Now I was nailed to a new track – the one
running parallel left and right of the old one before. The two lines were
an insane distance of three feet apart.

"Now get going. You can't get lost on the slave track. It'll bring you to
where you need to go. Just keep holding onto each other. There's nothing
you need to see so you don't see *anything*. We'll get you outfitted next."

Our journey continued. My head was spinning. I had only one way to distract
myself and avoid total breakdown. I rubbed myself against Marty, our sweat
lubed bodies rhythmically swaying as we rode the tip toe train to hell.

Marty (or should I say 051-F?) pissed down his leg, which sprayed me quite
a bit. I was feeling really full, too, so I joined in and before long a lot
of the train was letting their bladders recover.

Someone held a tube up to my open mouth and shoved it in just enough to
make me retch. Water came flowing and I greedily swallowed every drop. At
least they kept us well hydrated.

We stopped when we were told to.


*** THE REVEAL ***


It made me crazy not to know what was going on but eventually it was my
turn to receive whatever this station had to offer. A hand grabbed my dick
and pushed it aside.

A needle stabbed my taint, right between asshole and dick root. There was
clearly a ring piercing now, because a chain could be threaded through
it. This chain's ends got connected to my toe rings.

With the chain being a bit short, I was forced into a slight squatting
position. Marty in front of me got the same treatment, but not Benny. I
guessed it was reserved for those who had to slide along the outer track.

Again, we had to move to the next room.

"This is where we split them," said the host. "They'll get an individually
fitted arrangement and afterwards they'll be shown their workstations. In a
few hours they'll all see each other. Well, not *see* exactly. Hehe. But
they'll be in a communal cage on a small gym mat where they can cuddle all
night on top of each other."

The host walked along our line as he monologued. "Did I mention that yet?
There's a reason those specific troublemakers were chosen and in some cases
even selected by their own families."

I could easily guess the reason. None of these assholes had a future
outside jail. The guys constantly in detention were always the lowest of
the low. Not in high school hierarchy, as evidenced by the popular athlete
Marty, but in a general sense of being terrible jerks.

The group had one exception. *I* really didn't belong here.

"Everyone of then" said the host, "was confirmed by a person close to them
to be a closeted homosexual. Putting the horny perverts in a room together
is doing them a favor. Now let's finish this."

What? Impossible. Marty was gay? *All of them* were gay? But... that meant
it was true. My parents had planned this specifically. Abel and me
switching identities. Everything.

I was ready to tear down the walls with my rage, but instead I got stabbed
by more needles.

This time my nipples were pierced because why the fuck not, I guess. Might
as well desecrate anything that's left.

As it turned out, the nipple rings were not a matter of mere aesthetics. A
chain connecting them hung low enough to serve as a way of pulling me.

I found out about this as I got... well, pulled by the nipple chain.

Initially, the pain was exquisitely great. I screamed enough for them to
block my throat for ten seconds with the choker. Once in motion the toe
rings let me glide smoothly as long as I tip toed, and the sharp nipple
pain ceased mostly, so I managed to shut up.

Sliding along the track, half squatting, legs far apart, arms flailing
uselessly, tongue out, blind, and dripping with drool, sweat and piss, I
didn't feel quite human anymore. Pre-cum had also added itself to the mix,
because I wasn't getting any less horny.

At the end of the journey we were still all together, or at least
mostly. The pathetic sounds of 051-A to X were still present. I still
couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I was surrounded by closeted
gays like myself. If I had known sooner I might have tried to befriend
Marty or any of the others.

Of course, I could still do that now, but without speech there wasn't much
to go on. Also, I'd have to find Marty again via feeling, since my eyes
were not going to get much use anymore.


*** SENSORS ***


Without warning, a flexible device was shoved into my ass. Then
farther. And farther. It *fully* explored the depths of my
insides. Apparently this happened to the others at the same time as me,
because I wasn't the only one huffing. I strained myself not to scream and
the others sounded like they were trying the same. There was little pain,
it was just profoundly violating.

Once the device was pulled from my ass, I relaxed a little. With the stress
my spread position put on my muscles, it would be hard enough. I didn't
have to add strain on purpose.

Then the tube was moved away, not touching my ass anymore and a different
one touched my lips. As it slid in, I wondered if it was the same one,
because it tasted... well, our asses were thoroughly cleaned but it was
still flesh. But no, *my* tube had been pulled away at the same time as the
new one arrived. So why did it taste like...

It had to be the tube that had been in Marty's ass.

Just as I figured that out, my gag reflex got triggered hard as the tube
was shoved into me without regard for my well-being. The violation lasted
only seconds.

"What we just did is take measurements. The human finger print is unique to
each individual, but so are nerve patterns. Usually that's not considered
for identification, since obtaining them each time a registration is needed
would be difficult. Not so here."

The host paced a bit up and down. "Like a key, the nerve patterns will be
used to unlock stations. The slaves can move freely in the facility – as
long as they stick to the tracks, naturally. There are switching spots so
they can get past each other without blocking the path for others. They'll
learn to coordinate without sight or speech. At least that's the plan. If
they don't, we'll teach them with liberal use of our punishment methods."

I was pulled along by the nipple chain but this time I could hear us get
separated.

Soon I was alone with however drew me along.


*** OPEN SESAME ***


"All right, 051-G. Your brother Arthur is here to give you
encouragement. I'm sure you'll learn fast. Stretch your hands forward and
feel the obstacle in front of you."

I touched what seemed to be a door.

"All doors in the facility along the slave track feel like this. There are
only two ways to open them. We supervisors have keycards. You slaves have
IDs."

The man led my hands down to a protrusion on the door. It was a pole poking
out at a 45 degree angle. It felt slippery. There was a slit on top. If I
pressed lightly, the slip spewed something lubricating.

"This is a sensor which measures the nerve patterns we just recoded. First
it needs the anal one, then the oral one."

I understood what was expected of me the second my choker went off and took
my breath away.

With shaking limbs I positioned myself on the "sensor's" tip. With feet
spread from the tracks, it was hard to get down. My brother snickered in
the background.

Sliding my insides along the device, I sensed vibrations. It was
measuring. Finally a single, brutally hard vibration shook my guts. The
choker gave way. Was it done?

"Step one complete. Get off there and give it the oral one."

I slipped off, by getting back up as far as the taint chain let me. Then I
bent forward and brought my lips to the tip where I tasted myself. It
wasn't bad. Those enemas had been magical. I pushed forward but stopped
when the gag reflex kicked in.

It was Abel's hand I felt on my neck.

My helpful twin shoved me farther until the sensor was way past where it
needed to go. The sensor vibrations traveled through my skull.

A final, vicious shake and I was released. The pole slipped away as the
door slid aside.

As a reward I got to drink a lot of water. My bladder was filling again.


*** WORK ***


We were still alone. Me, my brother, and the supervisor. I had been
introduced to a few more things:

The poles from the very beginning were a daily scheduled occurrence to keep
us clean. From now on we'd be showered while riding those poles. Water was
available pretty much everywhere, and "everywhere" was also the right place
to piss. Meals were mostly a chunky liquid coming from tubes with some
force but it didn't exactly feel like brutal force-feeding, it was just
necessary since slaves didn't have the ability to swallow reliably.

The food always had the same consistency but there were flavors to pick
from. It was the first time I got to choose something. There were
"neutral", "flavored" and "sweet". The second one changed every week. The
sweet one was only unlocked on weekends for slaves who had fulfilled their
work quota. Of course, sweet wasn't an option for me yet.

Next came labor. In order to reach the work stations, the slave track had
railway switches that led from the main track a couple feet down to the
work bench.

"You need to activate the switch. There's a sensor. Go on."

Ball pain followed, so I hurried before the spasms incapacitated
me. Getting my balls crushed with legs spread far made my posture extra
unstable.

The second time I "unlocked" something was easier. My ass was at the
correct angle and I already knew I had to go past my gag reflex for the
oral scan.

"You'll be shown what to do, by someone leading your hands. Afterward your
balls will be crushed until you get it right. Should you slow down too
much, the collar detects this automatically and reminds you that you have
to earn your breath here."

Fortunately for me, the side tracks didn't have an outer track, being only
one foot apart. I got to stand almost upright again while working.

About an hour was dedicated to introduction to works stations. They all had
a certain texture that let me differentiate them. On most of them I just
had to do the same thing over and over again to help build a product I'd
never be able to see.


*** RACING ***


It seemed like most rooms were basically hallways, to accommodate the
track. The gym was no different. Racks with weights were lined up along the
walls. The dumbbells had strings connecting them to the rack so we knew
where to put them back.

A few machines had switches so I could reach them and sit down on the hard
cushioning. There was stuff for biceps, triceps, chest, back, shoulders,
core and calves. The latter was simply a place on a side track where I
could go to my tip toes repeatedly while holding weights. It was still
impossible to lift my feet off the ground, after all.

Of those seven machines I had to use one daily in addition to a freestyle
dumbbell routine of my choice. It was the first time I got to *really* pick
something. Seven flavors instead of two.

One thing had been missing so far, which was equipment for legs and ass. I
was nipple chain pulled to another station, which I had to use every
day. It was a side track with a squat rack.

I got instructions on how to adjust the weights by altering how many plates
were connected to the string, and had to do a few minutes of
squatting. Since the taint chain didn't let me get fully straight up, even
on the one foot track, squatting was more exhausting than usual.

Their idea of cardio was a stadium sized, circular room with the track
running along the wall. Presumably ninety percent of the room was empty
space in the middle. Weights from a rack at the entrance had a chain, but
not to attach them to the rack. They connected to the collar.

My introduction consisted of ten minutes of "jogging" along the track like
an ice skater with a weight plate sliding behind me. Slaves had to use the
cardio room at least a few times a week. How were we supposed to coordinate
our tempo to keep from bumping into each other?

As it turned out, the space within the ring wasn't empty but taken up my
increasingly smaller, concentric tracks. I could switch into one farther in
anytime as I was prompted to do so. This switch required no sensor
activation.

The ring track inside the outermost one had a slight incline for half the
path. The other half was of course the decline to get back down. So the
circular track was slightly tilted. Another ring farther in and I was
fighting a much steeper slope. The innermost ring was so small that I could
feel the weight's inertia pull me to the side while running. It would have
brought me off balance had I not been way slower than before. This last
track's slope was enough to make me slip.

My toe rings had basically no friction so when I jogged up, I was in
constant danger of sliding back. Conversely, getting downward was a
struggle against losing control and turning into an upright sleigh.

Finally, I was told we were done and I made my way back onto the main
track's outer line, three feet apart. The tour was over but Abel had a
different plan.

After some whispering, the supervisor told me, "So you're a tardy one,
051-G? Good to know. We'll increase the sensitivity of your collar to make
sure you are not just mostly on time but down to the very second and always
busy at top speed. Also, we'll add positional conditions."

Positional what now?

I was pushed into a new posture with my back arched and my ass out. My neck
got pulled until I looked forward again. This arched my back
*hard*. Lastly, my arms were raised above my head.

"Stay like that when idle between stations or else the collar activates."

Then I got shoved down onto my knees. With my feet this far apart, it was
not exactly a relive to get out of the standing position. My hands were
raised above my head again and my back kicked into an arch. This time
instead of looking forward, I had to get my head down.

"This is the eating position. As soon as you're at the feeding station,
drop down like that. You'll activate your chosen flavor, drop down and let
the tube drip in front of you. From now on you lick all food off the
ground."

He pulled me back up. My collar tightened, although not fully. I assumed
the idle position without the raised arms. The choking was bearable. I
still got some air. I could probably stay like that. Just to make sure I
didn't give them any ideas, I raised my arms even though they already
hurt. Not as much as my legs but still.

"Hmmm, what's that, Arthur? Not normally, but in extreme cases... Okay
051-G, your brother thinks you need the extra bit of discipline. I'll set
unlock to four. That means you need to let the sensor at every gate, switch
and station measure both your nerve patterns four times in a row or it
won't open. Anal, oral, anal, oral, anal, oral, anal, oral. Got it? This
must happen within half a minute or it'll start over."

The nipple chain got taut and I was pulled along again.


*** REUNITED ***


The entire batch of twenty-four slave boys was together in the same room
once more. It was almost time for bed – or the promised gym mat.

"The final stage of sensory alteration is the last one for obvious
reasons. The subjects had to be instructed, after all. Now before we say
goodbye, I want to ensure you we are aware sensory deprivation leads to
mental issues. Our subjects volunteering family members helped us provide a
solution we are convinced will work."

Someone was breathing down my neck and it wasn't 051-H aka Benny.

My brother whispered in my ear. "I got a lot of things I want to say to
you. Luckily you'll get to hear them. Again and again and again. Maybe I'll
pay 051-gay a visit every now and then, just to see how you're doing and to
mess you up. Goodbye, my dear faggot brother."

My right ear was plugged. A sharp pain shot into my head. Then the left ear
underwent the procedure, too, and all sound ceased. I was completely
deafened.

Then Abel's voice came from the ear plugs. "Hey Bro, what you're about to
hear on an endless loop is the first of many recordings I made and I'll
keep sending more. Variety is the spice of life. But also, repetition makes
you learn. So here's what you need to learn. Your very own *audio slave
track*. Without further ado..."

A soft click signaled the beginning of the infinite sound loop. In the
complete silence of my own head the recording was far too loud to
ignore. "I am a bitchy, little faggot," said my brother's voice in a
mocking tone that made it clear he wanted to implant the thought in my
psyche. "I'm a filthy, perverted, ugly, stupid faggot and I deserve to get
destroyed. Faggot! Faggot! Faggot!..."

The recording looped after about five minutes of a loud, rhythmic "Faggot!"
and it wasn't long until my subconscious repeated it to me even when it was
turned off. Like drums, my twin's voice echoed through my head all day long
with various messages, but always at least a full hour of "I am a faggot!"
somewhere in there.

"I am a faggot!"

A single sentence, replayed a million times. The absolute silence during
work and bed time was filled with my own mind repeating Abel's words after
hearing them for hours every day.

I became incapable of thinking anything else than "I am a faggot."

Many other things happened, while I settled into my routine. We got to go
off the slave track for sleep, all huddled in a small cage. We fucked a
lot. Well, "fucked" may be the wrong word. Shaking our chastity tubes led
to ruined orgasms like milking, so what we mostly did were lazy rim jobs
with our slow, studded tongues and a whole lot of finger banging.

Also, I'm fairly sure I found Marty. While there was no way to know if he
recognized me, we made out a lot. Curiously, all slaves sloppily kissed
with their open, permanently drooling mouths whenever we met along the
tracks. Without speech and other human contact, it organically became
something of a greeting or acknowledgement.

Occasionally, I was nipple chain pulled onto a sidetrack and fucked raw by
a dick. Maybe it was the supervisors. There was no way to tell.

The first time getting fucked was terrifying of course, especially because
I still had to do my best to remain in my idle position or choke. Luckily,
they adjusted the collar to detect sex, so I was soon able to be pushed
into any position desired as long as I was "on track".

With the sensors invading my ass dozens of times a day, I was used to the
anal intrusions and could enjoy the horniness kick I got from prostate
stimulation.


*** EPILOGUE ***


A couple weeks later, our sleeping cage was removed and we had the whole
room to ourselves, mats everywhere. On the following day, a new batch of
slaves arrived. Apparently the pilot project had been a success. More
groups followed another two weeks later.

It was getting hard to find Marty at night among all those horny boys, so I
stopped thinking of him as a boyfriend and soon he was just another slave
like everyone else. I couldn't reliably recognize him anymore.

I didn't know whether Abel ever came to visit me, but he kept sending his
messages for a month until they stopped coming and his old ones were on
loop forever. I knew them all by heart after a few repeats. They were very
catchy, after all.

Day after day I internalized what I was hearing until the difference
between my thoughts and Abel's voice dissolved.

Day after day I rode the slave track.

It became my identity.

After all...

It *is* my identity.

"I am a faggot."


*** THE END ***



Note: This feels kind of like a happy ending in a way. Or is that just me?