"A Politician's Son"
This is a story set in an alternative universe where slavery is legal. It is graphic and violent. Do not read it if you are not into more extreme content. All characters are over eighteen and you must be over eighteen to read it. Never do anything like this in real life and if you ever suspect someone of abusing another person, report it.
This is a story, intended primarily for masochists looking for safe outlets to explore their feelings. Please stay safe, guys.
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Part 1
To say I was spoiled growing up would be an understatement. My family co-owned one of the biggest privately held companies in the state, Everly Oil. The rest of it was held by the guys my granddaddy started it with. I was a good student. A good athlete. But i grew up with a live-in maid and a credit card with basically no limit. And then my dad decided to run for office. Our state was conservative and firmly on the side of big business. It was why they had no trouble passing the Indenturement Law. It would save companies money and cut down on inflation since there'd be virtually free labor. Everybody knew it would make slavery legal like in the old days, with no real limits, even if it set a maximum term of five years. I was arrested protesting it the day before it went into effect. My cell had a mirror. It was almost a hotel room. There was a door and wallpaper and the only way you knew it was jail was the door was locked and I could hear the noise outside. The other parts of this floor were concrete and like the prisons I'd seen in movies. I didn't even have to identify myself to get moved here. One of the cops just whispered to another and then they apologized to me. I had to put on the jumpsuit though and take a picture. It was orange and I thought about asking if I could keep it for halloween. And then my dad came in.
Bruce
I looked at Jacob in the cell. His dirty blonde hair was in that shag cut I hated. He had got it done last week before his 18th birthday party. The cops had taken his stupid shell choker away from him and he just looked like an ordinary teenage surfer, minus the tan and with a few more muscles from our personal trainer. I thought about rescuing him. I could do it. They hadn't processed his arrest yet. I could bribe the right people. He'd be home playing video games or whatever he did in under an hour. But my campaign manager was right. Nothing would do more to make me the law and order candidate than having him processed. It would show the rabble I didn't think I was better than them and would enforce the law equally. It would show the law wasn't about the rich vs. the poor. Besides, it was only five years. I left while he screamed at me to get him out of there. My bodyguards had to hold him back so he didn't follow me.
Jacob
When my dad left, everything changed. Everything. The guards who had been so nice came back and cuffed my hands behind my back. Then they put one of those arrest collars around my neck and dragged me into a large courtroom. I was looking for my dad or our family lawyer, but they weren't there. I was pushed into a group of at least two hundred people. I recognized some of them from the protest, but none of my friends were there. Then I realized what was going on. We were being sentenced. All of us. Together. I tried running and one of the guards tased me. I could barely hear the judge say, "Your rights as free citizens are rescinded for five years beginning this day.." Then I passed out.
Bruce
I made my first speech after his arrest about the important of the law meting out justice equally. I talked about how race and wealth and power didn't matter, but only justice.
Every question after the speech was about my son. I did my best to make it clear I was staying out of it. He had chosen to defy the law and the consequences were his own. I expressed my love for him, but said the system had meted out justice and I accepted it.
It didn't mean I didn't pull some strings. I made sure he would wind up studying business from the inside and wouldn't be altered or put in any risky situations.
Jacob
I woke up in a big holding pen. It was chaotic. People crying and screaming and some being dragged out by those new slave police every few minutes.
And then it was my turn.
Part Two
Jacob
I watched what happened to some of the other slaves and expected the worst. I don't know how I kept moving. I watched some guys get circumcised as they screamed, some girls were too, and then there were tattoos and other alterations.
Not to mention the rapes.
And then it was my turn.
The slave police locked me into a stainless steel chair and then a heavyset older man approached me. I had watched him perform surgery on some of the others. I had seen him put corporate logos on other slaves.
I pissed myself.
And he just laughed.
Then he cut my clothes off me and had some kid my age spray me down with a hose.
When I was clean, he smiled at me and said:
You are quite lucky. You keep your foreskin and have an order for purchase already. And they want minimal alterations.
He handed a sheet of paper to his assistant and walked away.
And my transformation started.
Bruce
I knew I shouldn't, but I watched Jacob get processed. I had a moment of shame for the boy when he pissed himself and then that made me angry. What would it do to my campaign if they found out my son had pissed himself like that?
The rest was understandable.
He cried from the chemical burns that permanently dissolved his body hair. I think the face burns were particularly painful for him. Thankfully, the chemicals didn't scar.
The permanent slave collar had a shock feature and it had to be tested to be certain it worked. It was like getting tased and the tears were common to almost everyone getting collared.
All slave boys were given the same haircut. Shaved on the sides and back, one inch on top. No free boy shaved his head like that so it was another way to identify property.
His slave barcode was tattooed on the back of his neck.
The Everly Logo was tattooed on his forehead.
Jacob:
I was dazed. I couldn't focus and could barely walk. I was loaded into a van and taken with a group of other slaves somewhere.
When I got out, there were men with clipboards everywhere sorting people into groups. They had my dad's company's logo on their shirts. They would scan the barcode on the slave's neck and then send them to separate groups. All the groups had a sign in front of them of what department they represented. They were labeled things like accounting and finance, customer service/employee assistance, marketing, custodian, etc.
When they scanned my neck, the guy first said finance. But then he started asking questions. Did I have a degree? How old was I? Where had I worked? Clearly, my answers upset him. He called over a manager, showed whatever was on the scan, then pointed at me. The manager nodded.
I was redirected to customer service and employee assistance. For some reason, almost everyone close to my age was in it.