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ALTER EGO
Summary: In a near future where prisoners are slaves, teen boy Noah gets tricked by a slave and experiences the full force of law enforcement.
Noah entered the administration building and looked at his wrist where the ComLink told him which room to go to.
It was a bit too cold for a tanktop and shorts in the building but he liked showing off his athletic body. Plus, he expected to be back out quickly.
As he looked up, an unusual sight threw him off.
Two nude men were standing next to the lobby desk. They had their backs towards Noah, their muscular torsos a strong V-shape, their legs and asses massively thick, their smooth skin veiny from low bodyfat and slightly glistening from sweat.
A third one was half covered by them – he was slimmer than the others but also highly muscular. If it wasn't for being on a slave's diet the third guy would probably be quite skinny. He held a coffee, which was certainly not for him.
With them was a man in a black leather uniform, entering data into the terminal. Likely the coffee's owner.
Noah hadn't known that slaves were processed in the building. But there wasn't really a reason for a separate facility?
For a moment he was disappointed that the slaves weren't female, then he stopped thinking about it and resumed his walk. There was a corridor ahead and he had to turn left at the second crossing.
The teen stopped at the soda machine. He held his ComLink up to the screen and tapped the button to pay for Coke. Then he kept walking down an eerily empty corridor.
"Hey, boy," came a voice from the side.
Noah looked up from his ComLink again and saw a small, mostly empty room. A prisoner looked back at him. The man was young, perhaps not even thirty. He had hairy legs, which was how Noah knew he was still unprocessed.
The naked man stood next to four shackles, only one of which was applied to him, keeping his right wrist on the wall.
"Hey," he said again.
Noah was about to walk away when the man said. "Please, just give me something to drink. I swear I'm not asking for more than that."
The teen had just opened his Coke and sighed. He could probably do a good deed if it only took him a second.
"Fine," he said and stepped into the tiny room.
"Thank you, my boy," the slave said. "Thank you so much. Just put it down. You don't have to wait till I'm finished."
The man gestured towards a tiny table with strange devices on it. Noah walked past the man, put the can down and walked back.
He was about to leave the room and file the events in his memory when he was grabbed from behind.
Too surprised to scream, Noah was slammed into the wall. The prisoner – who wasn't bound at all anymore – shackled Noah's right wrist where his own had been a second ago.
The man kicked the door close.
"H-Hey!" Noah said as he realized what had happened. "You can't do that. You'll only make things worse for yourself."
The man grinned and grabbed an item off the table. He sprayed something into Noah's face that made it hard for the teen to move – a paralyzer. He could barely keep himself upright and there was no way he could manage to scream for help.
Noah watched in silence as the man pulled his shorts and underwear off, followed by his tanktop which he had to pull down since the boy's wrist was fixed to the wall. The shoes came last.
When he undid the lock on Noah's ComLink, the boy felt his strength slowly return. "What... what are you... doing? You can't..."
The prisoner picked a bent paperclip off the ground, did something to the remaining shackles and forced Noah's feet and left wrist into them. Then he put on the clothes of the now naked teen.
"Ah, feels great to wear clothes again. I can tell you getting these shackles to close again was a lot easier than getting them open."
He dropped the paperclip and lifted his foot. There was something flat glued to it, that the man tore off. Some kind of chip.
While slipping into the shoes, the prisoner plugged the device into Noah's ComLink. "Now I only have to write your profile into an empty chip, then mine on this thing, and then yours from the chip to me."
Was he talking about ID chips? The one everybody had in their neck? It was supposed to be impossible to temper with those!
"And done," said the man. "Have fun being me, boy. Prisoner number 719. Now let's see who I am."
"You..." Noah said with rising horror. Identity theft wasn't supposed to be possible at all. "You can't do that. That's not possible. They'll figure it out."
The man shrugged. "Worked the last two times. But this time I think I'll stay and watch if I can."
He snapped the ComLink around his own wrist. "Ah, you're a student. Not much longer though." He tapped on the display. "...And you just dropped out. Now let's see your funds. Oh, not exactly loaded, but still pretty nice. I assume your parents have some control over that still, so I'll just transfer it all to an untraceable account of mine, if you don't mind."
The entire situation was totally surreal. Noah's pulse was racing. He had control over his body back and struggled against the shackles.
"You won't get away with this!"
The former prisoner laughed. "What a cliché thing to say. But you're right. I should take more precautions. Like this one."
He took something off the small table and shoved it into Noah's face. It was a gag of some kind. The teen didn't react fast enough – still suffering from the paralyzer's after effects – and the man managed to pry open his mouth and shoved the thing down.
Noah retched and after a moment of struggle he vomited. As soon as the man let go, the teen pressed the object out of his throat and puked the content of his stomach.
The identity thief activated a switch and icy cold water poured onto the boy. His vomit was washed down a drain in the floor while his skin cooled down shockingly fast.
When the water stopped, the man reinserted the object but this time he turned the back which made the device's rim grip onto Noah's teeth. He couldn't spit it out.
The gag did its job, making the boy dry heave, cough, retch and twist in his shackles. Tears and snot began to run down the boy's face immediately.
The man walked out the door, leaving it wide open. He leaned against the wall and drank his Coke, grinning at Noah every now and then.
A woman walked by. The teen tried to scream but didn't manage to get any louder than he was already. Next a group of three guys in suits walked by, ignoring him as well. They even greeted the identity thief as they passed.
No matter how still he tried to hold, the gag didn't stop making him retch and spasm, with tears running uncontrollably.
A bald man in a black uniform entered. He was about fifty with white scruff and mean eyes. He held up a scanner.
"719," he said. "Good, medical seems fine. Guess we can get started."
Noah saw other uniformed men walk into adjacent rooms. There were probably other prisoners being processed right next to him. Other prisoners? That wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to be here.
The teen remained as calm as he could, hoping to explain everything as soon as he was rid of the gag.
When the processor touched the gag, the identity thief stepped in. "Excuse me, the guy who put him here said to leave that one. The little bitch is a biter."
Noah shook his head with wide eyes. He mentally begged the processor to get rid of the damn thing.
"And you are?" the man in uniform said.
"Noah Henson," replied the man who was definitely not Noah Henson. "Just here to get a registration paper."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hensons. I'm Carl. Simply Carl. Well, I guess I'll follow your advice, then."
Carl pressed something on the gag and it retreated far enough to let Noah stay still, but kept his mouth stretched regardless. The boy sighed in relief. He wasn't retching anymore.
Then Carl left the room without a word and closed the door. Machine noise filled the room. Foam was sprayed with great force onto every piece of skin on Noah's body. Then the icy water returned, leaving him shivering more than before.
He saw right away that the foam had gotten rid of all his hair from head to toe, which now vanished down the drain. But he didn't have the mind to be appropriately freaked out. His skin itched like mosquito bites all over his body.
Noah twisted and turned, trying to rub at least his back on the wall behind him but the tiles were too smooth to do anything.
Carl returned and left the door open for `Mr. Henson' to see.
The teen shook as if he was having a seizure – half from the cold, half from trying desperately to scratch himself.
Before the boy had a chance to work through what had just happened, Carl snapped a ring over the base of Noah's dick and balls, making his package stand out.
Going insane from the itch, the teen barely notice when an almost weightless clamp was fixed to his balls and connected to the ring.
He moaned in desperation while a flexible tube was strapped over his dick and also fixed to the ring.
"May I ask what that does?" the guy now called Mr. Henson asked.
"It's simple," Carl said. "The clamp allows us to remotely punish disobedience and the tube makes sure slaves never get beyond semi-erect. It's important to keep them horny. Once in chastity, the level of horniness increases constantly until it plateaus, a month or two from now."
The itch was subduing and Noah could somewhat focus again. He was never going to be able to jerk off and his balls were at the mercy of sadistic or uncaring supervisors. He really needed to tell Carl that he was wrongfully here.
"Of course," Carl said, "all that serves the purpose of keeping their testosterone level high to complement this here."
The processor opened a box with a syringe and injected something into Noah's neck.
"And what is that?" the man outside the room asked.
"The first of his monthly injections. I'm not sure what's in there, but some of it is steroids, some of it is meds that make them less aggressive. He's supposed to grow muscles, but only use them to follow orders."
To finish it off, Carl pulled a black bag over the teen's crotch, like a sock made from what looked like matte satin. Noah had only ever seen slaves running around with such a bag on – now he also knew what was underneath and why slaves always looked like they had a semi hard-on.
"And we're done," Carl said. "Show's over, Mr. Henson."
The identity thief chuckled. "Thank you, it was most delightful. But what about the slave's biting habit? I was told it was quite the problem until the gag went in."
Carl nodded. "Thanks for reminding me. I should do something about that."
By now the injection's effect was noticeable. Noah felt sluggish, as if he couldn't form a thought and put it into action. At the same time he felt his muscles tense and relax over and over, yearning for labor.
The itch on his skin was almost gone but irritatingly persistent in several areas, one of which was in the bag that would never come off. He was also getting weirdly horny.
The gag loosened its grip on Noah's teeth as Carl touched it and the teen retched the object from his mouth. Before Noah could say anything, the man forced something else into the now empty orifice.
Noah's skull vibrated as the small machine did its thing.
When the device was pulled away, a hard plastic ring was left behind, gripping onto his teeth and forcing his mouth to stay open.
"Look here," Carl said. "This ring stays in this position unless changed from the outside."
To demonstrate he touched the ring and closed it – and Noah's mouth with it. Then he opened it again, wider this time, until the teen's jaw hurt. But no matter how hard he bit down, the ring was unyielding. The processor closed his mouth again and it stayed shut.
There was still no way for Noah to speak. By now his skin had dried and warmed up. With the stress and panic – and steroids – he was beginning to sweat.
A collar snapped around his neck as Carl placed it there, attached to a pole he was holding. This way there was more than an arm's length distance between the boy and the processor.
Flipping a switch caused all four shackles to open and Noah stumbled forward, held by the collar and pole.
Carl walked out, dragging the teen behind him. As Noah passed the identity thief, the man grinned and opened the ring in Noah's mouth to force the orifice open as wide as the ring would let it.
Then `Mr. Henson' drank the rest of his Coke and walked the other way.
From the adjacent rooms, other slaves were constantly lead by their own pole-collars while new, unprocessed ones were pushed inside. Noah followed his tormentor Carl down the hallway.
The boy wiped sweat from his face, feeling the odd smoothness where his eye brows and light scruff had been. He tried to figure out how it close his mouth ring, but without seeing it, he couldn't find the mechanism.
Noah's throat was dry. With his mouth wide open and his whole body sweating he got extremely thirsty. He really, really regretted not drinking that Coke himself. It had been a while since he had drunken water, so his body had processed it and his bladder was pretty full by now.
The teen found himself lead into a concrete room the size of a garage for two or three cars. It was filled with freshly enslaved men.
While the rest of the building had air conditioning, this room was more like a sauna. The biting smell of sweat and piss was heavy in the air. There was constant moaning, crying and chain rattling.
Carl shoved Noah in between two chubby men, their sweaty skins sliding along his own as he took position in the tight space. Then he got attached to the same hook system as the slaves around him.
One hook hanging from the ceiling held two rings into which Carl pressed the boy's wrists, to tie them together behind his back.
A smaller hook from above had a plum sized orb at the end. This one was pushed forcefully into Noah's ass. The boy cried out as if he was getting stabbed. Other such screams echoed around him as new arrivals were subjected to the same thing.
There were more chained hooks. These ones were fixed to the floor. Carl picked them up and snapped their attachments to Noah's nipples where they bit into his flesh.
Shaking the chains once, to see if they were properly fixed, Carl stepped on a pedal in the ground and activated the mechanism the hooks were attached to.
The man took off the teen's collar and left, while coils in floor and ceiling shortened the chains on the boy.
Noah's arms weren't pulled up too much behind him, but this shoulders were uncomfortably tense. The one in his ass on the other hand got pulled up so far that he had to stand on the very tip of his toes or get his hole torn.
It was a cruel stress position and Noah struggled, already bathed in rivers of sweat.
Then the chain on his nipples pulled him down, forcing his torso into a horizontal position. It was almost impossible to keep standing without falling over.
He had to keep his ass as high as it would go or risk falling forward and feeling the pain of his sphincter and shoulders getting punished. Only if he kept his nipple chain taut enough to cause nipple pain was he able to keep balanced on his toe tips.
Finally, his bladder failed and he pissed into the black bag, feeling it getting heavy with wetness. The smell of his own piss added to the odor of his surroundings, as the heat in the room made the piss quickly evaporate.
From the corner of his eye he saw more slaves enter – trained ones. They were unattended, without pole—collar and lean muscled from heavy training and hard work.
They walked along the rows of new slaves. Noah couldn't do anything other than struggle in his position, trying to keep his body from falling over. The discomfort in his shoulders turned into mild pain, his legs were strained to the point of spasming slightly and his nipples were so raw he couldn't help but cry out with every breath he exhaled.
Once the trained slaves made their way to him, he understood what they were doing. They were looking for spots where body hair hadn't been properly removed.
One of the thick man came to stand right in front of Noah, his piss stained dick bag almost touching the boy's face. The slave sprayed foam onto Noah's shoulder blades, ass crack, and from below onto the area above his crotch.
After a few seconds, the trained slave wiped the foam off with a wet towel, but some of the substance made its way into the teen's bag.
When the slave left, the itch returned. It was in every spot where the foam had touched him, but it was worst on his dick and balls, where the foam hadn't been wiped away, but lingered.
Noah shook and tried to rub his legs together to somehow scratch his dick but it was impossible, especially in his stress position.
The man next to him had undergone the same procedure and were wreathing in their chains to scratch their own skin, pointlessly rubbing themselves against Noah as if sweaty skin gave enough resistance to scratch their itchy spots.
The second trained slave arrived and put a heavy seeming tank down in front of each trio of new prisoners. One of them was put down in front of Noah.
Every men got a black tube into his mouth which was connected to the container. A little rope from the tube got wrapped around the boy's neck so that he had no way to push the thing out of his mouth. Noah's jaw hurt from the mouth ring, but he managed to keep the tube in place with his tongue where it wouldn't rub his gag reflex.
Soon, porridge-like pulp flowed into his mouth. It was basically tasteless and quite dry for something liquid. The pulp kept flowing at a rate that allowed him to breathe but forced him to keep swallowing over and over.
Nonetheless, some pulp overflowed and ran along his chin and neck from where the sand colored substance dripped to the ground.
He was desperate to think about something other than the itch on his crotch, so he tied to read the label on the container through his tears.
Only protein', vitamins' and steroids' were words he could read from the way it was facing him. He blinked the tears away and saw a smaller line saying slave chow – perfect mix'.
When the flow ceased, he had to remain with the tube in his mouth until a slave came along and cleared all the containers away.
The next trained slave carried transparent containers full of water. For the first time since the whole thing had begun Noah felt some kind of positive emotion. He was terribly thirsty. His throat was bone dry.
When the tube was fixed to his neck he began sucking right away, but nothing came out. He had to wait for the container to let the water flow.
As the slave passed, he thought the next one was walking up to him already, but it was somebody else.
"Hey there," the identity thief said. "How's it hanging? I can't stay long or some guard might come by, but I thought I'd chat a little."
He grabbed the tube and undid the neck rope that held it in the boy's mouth.
"What's that? You can't have a conversation with your mouth full. I'll just fix that."
The man pulled the tube out and dropped it. That moment the water began to flow.
Noah cried out, hoping somebody would notice the man who didn't belong into the room, but the trained slaves where on the other side. As loud as Noah moaned, he still couldn't shout over a whole room of equally moaning men.
"I played a little more with your profile. You have a nice identity, I'm glad I took it. You should know, I broke up with your girlfriend. Also your apartment is now for sale since I can use the money and I already have a place to stay with some pals."
Noah screamed as loud as he could, which was hard with his completely dried up throat.
"Oh, you're loud. That's impolite. We can't have that."
The man pushed his – Noah's – shorts and underwear down and shoved his semi hard dick into the boy's mouth. He adjusted the ring to make the teen's lips fit perfectly around the shaft.
"Since I was kind of on the run I had no time to wash myself in about four or so days, I'm sure you'll understand. They didn't exactly let me shower when they captured me."
Noah retched at the smegma taste. He did his best to pull back but for one thing he had to stay balanced and also the ring kept his mouth fixed to the dick.
"It's really hot in here," said the man. "I think I need a nice, cool drink. How about you?"
He pulled a Coke can from his back pocket and opened it right above Noah's face. A few drops sprayed onto the boy.
The torturer made a few gulps and exaggerated his enjoyment of the drink greatly.
"I think you might want the rest, no? Most of it is still in there. If you'd like some, show junior some love."
Noah choked but complied. He worked his tongue along the dick head in his mouth as best he could. After fully cleaning the tool, he tried to flick his tongue rapidly on the sensitive spot at the head's underside.
It seemed to work perfectly. The power the man had over him was clearly a strong turn on. Stream of hot cum shot into Noah's dry throat.
"Ah, well done boy. As promised, the rest is for you."
The man poured the Coke out over Noah's face. Since his dick still fully blocked the mouth, every singly drop ran past it and splashed onto the ground.
The man opened the ring back up so wide it made the boy's jaw hurt and put the tube back in. There was no more water coming from it. A single drop met Noah's tongue, making him only thirstier.
`Mr. Henson' left before the slave came back to collect the containers.
The itch had gone away everywhere except for the area inside his bag. The teen was going crazy with discomfort.
All coils in the room simultaneously activated and loosened the chains. Noah could finally bring his ass down and his chest up. He felt the pain in his shoulders, spine and knees as he got to stand properly again.
Men in black uniforms walked through the rows and undid all the hooks. Right away Noah tried to scratch his dick and balls but the bag would let no sensation pass through. The boy cried out in frustration.
Another bash of uniformed men put collars on the newly enslaved which had a ring on either side. Wrist shackles were added and Noah's hands were forced up where he got them connected to the collar. This left him unable to keep pointlessly scratching.
"Attention to all new slaves." One of the men in uniform was yelling over the crowd of moaning men. "Assume a row at the yellow line when the door opens. Every attempt at disobedience will be punished severely."
The other side of the room opened up, metal gates had covered the whole wall. Daylight fell in. It was a sort of outdoor parking lot. Slave transporters waited in the distance.
The prisoners struggled into a line, with the guards walking along the perimeter and caning everyone who wasn't fast enough to find his position.
All naked men waddled outside into the blinding sunlight and stood with their toes touching the yellow line on the asphalt. The ground below Noah's feet was scorching hot. He almost wanted to scream. Most slaves couldn't help but wreathe in the attempt to keep contact to the asphalt minimal. But none dared to lift their legs.
The uniformed overseer walked behind the row and held a scanner up to each slave's neck. In his other hand was a gun-like device. He pressed it onto each slave's neck for a moment before walking to the next one.
Noah felt like he was about to die of thirst, when the man reached him. A short pain in his neck later and he dared to look to his side. It was difficult without drawing attention to himself since he had to move his raised arms with the head.
About thirty naked, sweating men were to either side of him. On each slave's neck was now a big barcode. Certainly, his read 719.
"Alright, boys," said the guard, "make your way to the end of the lot and back."
It was about a football field of distance.
"With every step your knees must touch your chest. This is the first of a few tests to determine your position in the future. The better your scores, the better the position."
A shrill whistle blew and the naked men raced. Noah was glad to get his foot soles off the asphalt for a split-second at a time. His knees slapped his nipples with every step. The sweat made splashing, slurping noises.
He wasn't the fastest, but most other slaves stayed behind him.
Breathing hurt through the dried up throat. Shouldn't his dehydration be giving him a massive headache? The boy figured that the slave-chow contained all sorts of strong medications.
He felt weirdly loopy. On the one hand, he was sluggish and unmotivated. By all means he should have felt furious. Rationally he was aware that he should be wailing in rage and try to communicate with the guards to get out of his situation. But he felt almost half asleep.
On the other hand, though, his body was restless. His muscles were eager to move and he felt a sort of inertia keeping him running now that he had started.
The injection and slave-chow turned him into someone with a body that wanted to be busy but a mind that couldn't find the motivation to do anything. It was the perfect mix to crave orders he could execute.
Noah hated his situation, but realized that the aggression he should have been feeling just didn't appear in his guts.
The teen was among the first ten or so to reach the yellow line on the other side and turned around. He was dizzy from the heat and dehydration and slowed down on the way back, making sure to keep hitting his chest with every step even if it made him almost run in place.
By the end he was somewhere in the middle ranks of returners and came to a halt wobbly, with his collar bound arms making him sway.
He had to bear standing still on the hot ground again while the other slaves arrived.
"Into position at the line. The next run is also there and back, but this time crouching down. If your asses rise too far, we'll punish you. Down and go!"
The whistle blew again and all naked men dropped down to crouch. Then the waddling began.
Noah was mostly spaced out. The itch in his bag had subdued and his dizziness was making him waddled to the left and right, off the path he was supposed to follow.
After half the distance, his knees called him back into reality as they screamed for mercy. Most slaves were openly shouting curses or simply groaning loudly with every step and Noah joined them. Yelling helped ease the pain, but his raspy voice faltered increasingly often as he seemed to dry up all the way down his esophagus.
Once he reached the other side and turned around, he saw that a lot of the less fit men had fallen onto their behinds and struggled to get back up without simply standing, which would likely have counted as raising farther than allowed.
Behind them was the building – an ugly block of cement. But Noah saw on the first floor window was the guy who now went by Mr. Henson and pointed a ComLink down at the lot.
At first the boy wasn't sure what he was doing, but then realized the man was filming the training. That was illegal. If only there was a way to inform the guards what was happening.
Noah's groan turned into a cough. He would have killed for a sip of water.
When he made it back, the teen was about to collapse. However he was already on the ground and his knees were in more pain than any other part, so instead he stood up, and tried not to fall over.
Fully trained slaves went along the row and removed the collars. Noah could drop his arms, letting blood flow back into them. He also finally got to wipe sweat of his face, which had been dripping into his eyes.
"One more test to wrap things up. This time you run on hands and feet, but backwards. Your ass will be the highest point of your body and look in the direction you're running. This one is about time more than form, but you will be graded on form as well, so don't mess it up too bad."
The slaves turned around and touched down with their hands. The whistle blew and the made their way backwards to the other side.
This time Noah was also pretty fast. He was by far one of the fittest in the group and could probably hope for a fairly good position.
No, what was he thinking? He wasn't a slave, he just had to communicate with a guard and this would all be cleared up. There were certainly ways to look at the records and make it clear that he was Noah Henson, and the other guy was supposed to be enslaved.
By now, the itch was mostly gone and a new sensation took over. The teen was as horny as he had ever gotten. His dick pressed against the tube, making the bag poke firmly down and slap against his abs as Noah ran backwards on all fours. He really needed to jerk off. Surely they wouldn't be kept in chastity forever. And surely this feeling of horniness would subdue over time.
Well, now he knew what he would be going the moment all was cleared up and he was free again. He would beat his meat vigorously for an hour. Right after drinking an ocean of Coke.
The boy reached the line and turned around, his ass pointing back at the building. This was the last test. He had to find a way to communicate with a guard.
Every single naked man was allowed to speak, only Noah's mouth was ringed open. If he could get the ring removed, it would be easy to get his case looked at.
When he got back he was one of the first ones. Too out of breath to make any coherent noises, he gestured wildly at the guard closest to him.
The uniformed man grinned. "What do we have here? An unruly one? Seems like you need to be taught how to stand in line."
Noah shook his head and pointed at his mouth but the guard tapped his ComLink and the boy's balls were crushed.
Some pain was there right away, but most of it took its sweet time to rise in intensity and travel up his abdomen. He screamed a hoarse shout and fell to his knees.
Tears shot into his eyes. Slave 719 pressed both hands on his crotch in a useless gesture. The guard walked back to his position, satisfied, but the pain lingered and made Noah's breath stay fast and swallow. His mouth was a desert. He was slick with rivers of sweat.
Fearing more punishment, the boy rose to his feet, still bent over with his abs tight.
"Shut up," a different guard said and grabbed Noah's face. The man pulled the mouth ring shut. That wasn't exactly progress, but at least it kept saliva from evaporating.
The line reformed as the last slaves hauled their raised asses back to the start.
"Attention slaves 698, 704..." one of the men read aloud from his tablet. At some point the number 719 was mentioned, so Noah tried to listen closely.
"You are group one. Stand in the red area. Now for group two, those are slaves 702..."
Noah and eleven other naked men – all fairly athletic or muscular – walked back into the holding area inside the building. The boy was glad to be off the asphalt and made his way quickly to the area indicated with red tape.
They assumed position in a row and stared straight ahead. A slave went through and put water containers down. Noah would have risked taking water without permission if he hadn't just experienced the ball crushing he was still recovering from.
Once all groups were assigned and had a container in front of them, a guard entered the place. "We'll prepare the transport. You will be alone until then. This is also a test. If we come back and catch any of you acting up you will regret it greatly. In the meantime, drink and stay put."
The metal gates closed. The oppressive heat pared with the smell of sweat and piss returned. All around Noah the slaves pissed in their bags which had strings of piss drop from them onto the concrete.
His bladder was empty. The boy fixated his eyes on the water. There weren't any tubes. How were they supposed to get it?
The container opened up. The slaves jumped forward and shoved their faces in, one at a time, struggling to get a turn. It was no different in group one.
As Noah had finally struggled his way to right above the cool liquid a metal collar snapped around his neck.
The teen was pulled back. The collar was on a pole held by the identity thief. Noah hauled in rage.
"My my, you're a lively one. I saw you did well on the tests. My congratulations. However I do think you are better suited for other tasks."
The man pulled the pole along and Noah followed since he got strangled with every step he fell behind.
The groups got less and less fit as he passed them with group five, the largest, consisting of old and fat guys.
Noah was dragged to group six which consisted of various body types, with no apparent commonalities. He didn't know what to make of it.
"Don't worry, I've taken the liberty to convince the computer of a reassignment. You'll fit in here, I'm sure."
The teen was shoved into the line of group six and the man pushed the pole to force Noah on his knees.
`Mr. Henson' opened the mouth ring to the limit.
"Looks like you could use some moisture." The man spit into Noah's mouth, holding the flinching teen's head still.
"There's more work for me to do with the computer so I have to say goodbye for now. Have fun, 719."
Just as the man released Noah from the collar, the water containers closed.
The boy spent only a second being frustrated, then he remembered that the floor was full of piss and bent down to lick the concrete. Already the liquids were evaporating, so he only got a few precious drops.
With his thirst not at all quenched, the boy stood back up as the gates opened.
"Back in line. Go!"
The new slaves followed the order, making their way out onto the hot asphalt again.
Three long, black trucks were parked close by. They had been at the far side of the lot before, but now they were here with their open backsides turned toward the slave line.
"Group one, two and three. Hop in."
Not quite half the slaves boarded the first truck, which closed its backdoor.
"Group four and five. This one."
The second truck was also boarded and shut. This left the nine slaves of the last group, which Noah was now a part of.
"Group six. You're still here because we didn't get a good look at you during the test and need to run some more. Wait by the truck while we prepare the equipment."
The nine glistening men walked over to the vehicle, its black metal radiating more heat than the ground. All guards were distracted, most of them back in the hall.
Noah looked around. He was feeling the mental sluggishness that kept him from running away or try to sabotage the truck, regardless of what his brain could come up with. He noticed the other slaves feel the same restlessness in their muscles. He was almost looking forward to the tests.
The fully trained slaves – all massively muscular men – carried the empty water containers to the truck and went back into the hall.
Was there any water left?
Noah's will was strong enough to take a few steps away from the group. He was still in bright sunlight but for the moment, nobody was watching him. His thirst was stronger than the lethargy or fear.
The water containers were totally empty. He almost hopped right back in line, but then he saw a big can just like the water containers. It was unlabeled but had a tube attached to it. The other one was attached to the truck's bottom.
Was it just oil or gasoline? Anything like that?
With a quick glance around, Noah opened the valve. A clear liquid began to flow from the tube. He was too thirsty to think clearly – he simply sucked on it.
It was drinkable, but hot and bitter. What was it? As he looked into the truck's inside and saw the drains in the floor he realized it was piss and sweat from slaves that had been in the car before. Likely the huge, fully trained ones.
He was grossed out but kept drinking. It was too wonderful to have his thirst quenched. It was perhaps the most wonderful feeling he had ever felt, following the worst torture he had ever experienced. Noah wouldn't have been able to imagine that such immense discomfort was possible, but the lack of water had been inhumanly awful.
He drank until nothing flowed from the tube anymore. It was enough. His stomach sloshed with the piss-sweat cocktail. But he still felt fairly dried out. It would take his body some time to process the liquid.
As a result he still felt somewhat thirsty and looked for any more water – actual water this time.
There was another unlabeled container. The guards were still not back. He grabbed the tube and opened the valve. Fine powder shot from the tube and Noah turned his head away to protect his face – especially the open mouth.
After turning the valve back off, he walked to the rest of group six and hoped the light dusting all over his skin wasn't too noticeable.
Then the powder mixed with his sweat and ran down his back, into his ass crack and down the back of his legs, with a few streams making it along the front.
When the itch set in, the boy realized it had been the dry form of the foam that took away all his hair. It became unbearable fast. The moment his fingers touched his skin, the guards and trained slaves returned and he had to stand still, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.
While the muscular, full-fledged slaves put the equipment on the trainees, Noah bit down on the ring to keep himself from screaming. The itch was making him go crazy.
All nine group members got the collars with the shackles on the side back. Now it was impossible for Noah to scratch himself. He tried not to wreathe but he breathed heavy from the frustration and the fear of being found out.
A whistle blew sharply. "Crouch!"
Noah brought his butt down. One of the trained slaves stepped up to him, the huge man's dick bag right in the boy's face. The smell of old and new piss prevailed through every one of Noah's heavy breaths.
"Rise."
The teen tried to stand up, but the slave above him put his hands on the boy's shoulders and pressed down. As much as Noah kept pushing, he made no progress. None of the others were doing any better.
A short whisper blow followed and the muscular man relented – or so Noah thought. As he had risen to the point where his knees were ninety degrees bent, the man pushed down again.
Noah was allowed to stay in his position but not to get any further up. His joints began to burn. He whined high pitched. The first member of group six fell. The next one followed.
Noah figured he didn't have anything to lose, since the two others weren't getting punished, so he dropped down.
The slave who had held his shoulders raised his hand and pointed to the boy with the other.
"Ah," said a guard, "you think you can play tricks and stop before your limit? Thought our helper wouldn't realize?"
Noah screamed as his balls were crushed again, but reminded himself to breath steady.
"Next test. Run to the end of the lot and back."
Well, that sounded reasonably simple. Basically the same thing as before. It was only logical that group six would have to do it again if it was all about retaking the test.
Then the massive naked man snapped something onto Noah's collar's back. He looked at the others to see them all wear the same thing – a rope leading to a round weight plate on the ground.
When the members of group six began to run, they didn't get very far. The weight was big enough to choke all of them, causing a series of gasps as they realized.
Noah leaned forward and tensed his muscles. It was difficult to tense his neck so much, it wouldn't be depressed by the weight hanging on the collar, but he could manage as long as he kept his entire upper body under tension.
The scorching, rough asphalt gave his feet the support for the teen to push himself off, but it also caused a lot of friction for the weight plate which refused to slide along.
He took a step with each leg, then leaned forward with his whole body tensed up. The weight followed him with scratching noises. Once he was leaning so far, he might fall on his face, Noah took another step and repeated the process.
Sweat ran into his eyes, but he had them mostly closed anyway, unable to use his hands to shield himself from the burning sunlight. The sweat ran further into his mouth, letting him taste salt.
The itch in his ass crack, on his back and his legs decreased only slowly as he was mainly sweating at the front, which faced the sun. He flexed his ass and rubbed his legs together hoping to achieve a scratching of some kind, but all it did was distribute the sweat-dissolved powder a little.
It felt like days but he eventually reached the yellow line on the other side. He turned around to see the other trainees varying distances behind him. Noah was first.
Feeling he could afford to take a break he looked for the guards, but they seemed busy typing away on their ComLinks, not even glancing towards their prisoners.
Something blocked the sun from Noah's body. The boy turned around to see the identity thief, who must have made his way around the area to escape notice by the guards.
"Hello again, 719. Having fun?"
Noah grunted and turned around, beginning his journey back. His ball crusher activated.
As he stopped and screamed, the thief's hand reached around his face and into his mouth. The man grabbed Noah's tongue, pulled it out, and closed the mouth ring to trap the tongue as far out as it could go.
"Kneel."
The boy complied and his balls were no longer crushed.
With a glance towards the guards, the man stepped in front of the Noah and pulled his pants down.
The teen was relieved not to get more cum down his throat this time but panicked when the man turned around.
Reaching back, the identity thief grabbed Noah's head and forced the boy's tongue on his asshole.
"Up and down, boy. Work it. Come on."
Noah refused until he got his balls crushed again. Then he flicked his tongue over and across the hole as quickly as his strained facial muscles let him.
Other trainees arrived at the line and turned back. They gave no indication of telling the guards what was happening. They certainly feared the punishment of speaking out of turn.
"And once again."
The man turned around, opened the mouth ring and shoved his hardened dick in until his pubes scratched Noah's face.
"Didn't fully unload. Let's see if you can do it as fast as last time."
With a wail, the teen began to caress the dick like before. It took significantly longer this time.
By then, Noah was aware that the first trainee was almost back at the starting line. He couldn't afford to lose.
In addition to working with his tongue, the boy also bobbed up and down, gagging himself. He had enough experience with gagging by now to ignore the intense discomfort.
The man who now went by `Noah Henson' moaned softly and pressed his hands tighter on the sides of the real Noah's face. A stream of cum shot down the boy's throat – smaller than the one before.
After a second, Noah was alone again. He fought his way up from his scrapped knees and continued the race. He came in last.
While the collars were removed, the man in uniform finished their report.
"The results are in," one guard said. "You all did mostly well, except for 719 who did poorly on both tests. Level 5 training for 719 since he seems to need the harshest routine to live up to his potential. Level 2 for the rest. Now hop on."
The trainees climbed the last remaining truck and were joined by the fully trained slaves who had served the guards. Other than for hooks and containers, the space was empty.
By this point the boy might have gotten away with scratching himself but the itch had faded almost entirely. He looked pleading at the muscular men in hopes one would close his mouth ring. No such luck.
Noah got a big, sand colored bar which tasted exactly like slave chow and got to drink as much water as he wanted. Biting was impossible with his mouth open but the bar was so dry, it fell apart anyway, allowing Noah to use his drool to make it swallowable.
After the newly initiated slaves had finished their meals, they were put onto hooks by the fully trained ones. One up the ass to keep him on his feet, one on his wrists behind his back to keep himself from taking out the previous one.
The truck wasn't even closed yet and already felt like a baking oven from the inside. If Noah's stomach hadn't been sloshing with as much water as it could hold, he would have worried about dying of heat stroke.
With all the heat and water, the musky smell of sweat mixed with the piss evaporating from the dick bags.
Using practiced moves, the massively muscled slaves fixed their own hooks to themselves, even the ones binding their wrists.
Then the identity thief jumped inside.
"Yo 719, I thought I'd say good-bye. Just so you know, I have your whole initiation on video. Too bad I can't just send it to every news station ever, but we can't have anyone finding out our little switching game, can we?"
The man giggled like a child. "But there are sites where a lot of people who understand the importance of anonymity go to appreciate a video like that. I should have a few likes and comments by now."
As much as Noah's heart raced, he tried to ignore the man. There was silence for a moment, then the boy glanced over to see when the cruel guy did now. The identity thief typed away on his ComLink – Noah's ComLink.
"When the officers do a technical checkup next month, they'll find there was a little malfunction that somehow wasn't automatically reported by the system. It seemed appropriate that I leave you with a present that'll remind you of our time together."
The man produced a gag like the one back in the initial room, and shoved it down Noah's wide open mouth. He fixed it to the ring.
This gag expended and contracted slightly, and shifted its curvature. No matter how Noah positioned himself he would keep gagging and retching. Already tears and snot began to run down his cheeks.
"That should keep you quiet, about my gift. Don't worry, I adjusted the records to make sure everyone knows the gag is essential. You're on file as a slave who likes to yell and there are many ways to make sure you're shut up at all times."
He leaned in and whispered over the retching noises. "I don't know how long it'll be fun to be Noah Henson, but before I move on I'll make sure to mess up your life so bad that no one will want to investigate why you stopped contacting them. Good-bye, 719."
On the tap of a button on his ComLink, the man hopped out of the vehicle without a look back.
Then Noah's balls were crushed. The teen moaned and screamed, greatly muffled by the gagging. While the truck's backdoor closed, he looked around with teary eyes, but none of the other slaves even cared to glance at him.
The ball crushing ceased.
Noah relaxed a little, breathing through the creeping pain in his upper legs and abdomen. So it only lasted a few seconds. No reason to panic.
The truck drove off.
It took half an hour for the next ball crushing attack to occur. Then ten minutes, then two hours, then twenty minutes, then five minutes.
The boy, now known as 719, didn't go without a random crushing for half a day. The malfunction wasn't found until three month later. 719 never found a way to inform anyone of his predicament. He stayed gagged in various forms most of the time and the mouth ring never came off.
A long time later:
Noah swung the pickaxe down on rocks under the open sky.
The unusually intense training had strained 719 to the limit, even though he had been assigned to it by mistake and was actually fitter than the others there.
Through the training and copious amounts of special slave-chow with extra protein, he had turned his athletic frame into an outrageously muscular one. His weight had doubled – an immense change. Probably also as a result of his youth.
His mouth's natural state was wide open, now. His drool ran down his chin and dripped onto his chest where it slid off from the layer of sweat which was present at all times.
He had raged, when he had first come to the training grounds, and regarded all tasks with burning hatred. But soon the horniness had taken over his mind. Everything he did had a strong erotic component. Eating, getting punished, hitting rocks, lifting weights – it all felt like an endless edging, just on the verge of orgasm.
719 was fixated on his dick bag, as if he never knew another purpose in life.
The sweat, the piss, the rippling muscles of slaves around him – it all had immense erotic charge that brought his attention back to the bag between his legs whenever his mind wandered the smallest bit.
A whistle blew and 719 put his pickaxe down. He joined the line back to the hall where they would get their hourly bar of chow and lots of water.
Then came the part he looked forward to more than anything. Each day the slaves got twenty minutes off between working and training. All of them, without exception, used the time for one thing only.
Thick poles stood in line along one side of the hall, not quite the size of baseball bats. Each and every slave used their spit to lube up one of them while fingering their own hole. For the duration of twenty minutes, the slaves got to ride on the poles.
Prostate stimulation was as close to sex as they could get. With no reason for modesty, the massive men entertained each other by seeing who could make the loudest or deepest moan.
Groups of two or three neighboring men groped each other, sliding their rough hands along slick legs, backs and asses. Everything was erotic to them, but that didn't mean physical contact while anally stimulated didn't still heighten the arousal.
"719, over here."
The slave hopped off his pole with disappointment, but without hesitation. He was well enough trained not to let his superiors wait.
Waving the glistening muscle man to follow him, the guard walked in the direction of the offices. 719 had no idea what that could mean. It was extremely rare for a prisoner to be called into the building. When the guards wanted to be sucked off by a male slave they always chose a new one who still had some fight left in him.
After being led only a little bit into the office space, 719 was shown into an almost empty room. It had the set-up of a visitation chamber, but no one who 719 knew could possibly have been looking for him.
A man was waiting at the small metal table, grinning brightly.
"Here, he is," the guard said. "Will that be all, Mister... uh."
"Yamamoto," said the man and smirked at 719. "Since two weeks ago, actually."
Now the slave recognized the identity thief, who had apparently gotten another victim enslaved and stolen that identity, too.
"Oh, you got married?" the guard misinterpreted the comment. "Congrats."
The serial identity thief only smirked. Then the guard pointed the slave to his designated spot, kneeling at the low table with his ankles in shackles on the ground.
The two unequal men were left alone in the room.
"So," the thief said and leaned in. "How have you been, 719? I'd call you your real name in mockery but I honestly forgot. It's been so long since I've acted under your name. But I have many fond memories of thoroughly wrecking your reputation."
He chuckled. "Oh, you probably don't even know, but today is your birthday. Congrats to not being a teen anymore."
719 simply kept his head straight, staring at the sitting man's crotch.
"Now, the reason I've come here is to tell you this: You'll be transferred. I got a bit bored and realized I still had access to your file from back when I first hacked it. So I added a few little misdemeanors."
For the first time 719 looked up. He liked it here. He had friends. They rubbed against each other when they rode the poles – there wasn't any more interaction possible. He got lots to eat and the work kept his twitchy muscles busy.
"Just a slight downgrade. Very similar to here. Except they use a demerit system. Don't get all your work done and there will be no poles to ride – but there will be pain instead. And I guarantee you, there is always too much work to be done."
719 groaned as the man got up.
"I can't hear you. There's something in your mouth. Wonder how that got there. But I'm sure you're only thanking me."
The thief opened his pants and jerked himself hard. "I have no idea how long the transfer will take. So I thought I'd visit you every day until you're gone. Now, open wide. ...But I don't need to tell you that."
This time 719's hands were free. But he sucked the dick anyway. He'd only make things worse.
Noah Henson had accepted it. He was slave number 719. This was the best he could hope for.