The Orville Farm

This is a Gay, Authoritarian story, you can use my email address, and I accept the nifty.org terms. I encourage everyone that reads and enjoys this story to consider supporting Nifty.org to support the archivist and keep the archive online. You can learn more here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

As a note to the reader, while characters in this story are over eighteen, the narrative contains descriptions of bondage, oral sex, body modification, and various forms of domination and submission. If any of these acts offend you or are illegal to read where you reside, please move on. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The Orville Farm

Chapter 3: The Transformation Accelerates

The harsh sound of the morning alarm jolted Fours from his fitful sleep, piercing through the haze of his dreams. He groaned, his body a constellation of aches as he shifted on the thin mattress. Something felt... off. His hand instinctively moved to his groin, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of his chastity cage. His breath halted as he registered the increased weight and fullness between his legs.

"No... no, no, no," he whispered, his voice cracking.

In the past ten days, the cage covering his cock had become less tight, no longer pinching uncomfortably against his flesh. But he felt the bloated heaviness of his testicles, noticeably larger than even the day before. The base ring that locked his cage in place was getting tighter as a result. Fours' mind reeled as he grappled with this new reality.

"Up and at 'em, cattle!" barked the gruff voice of an attendant from the door of their quarters.

Fours struggled to his feet, wincing at the unfamiliar swing of his enlarged organs. He and his fellow captives were now used to the routine. They shuffled towards the communal showers, keeping their gaze lowered. They were lathered in their hair removal cream, and then, as soon as the shower's icy water hit his skin, Fours couldn't help but glance at his fellow prisoners. His eyes widened as he took in their altered forms - swollen testicles and shrunken manhoods on full display. A1 stood beside him and caught his gaze, his face a mask of anguish.

"It's getting worse," A1 murmured, gesturing to his smooth, hairless body. "I... I don't even recognize myself anymore. And the hormones. I need to fucking cum... like now!"

Fours nodded, a lump forming in his throat.

"I know," he whispered back. "It's like my body isn't my own."

They fell silent, the sound of running water filling the air. Fours scrubbed mechanically at his skin, his mind racing. How much longer could he endure this? How much more would his body change? The weight between his legs was a constant reminder of his grim fate.

As he rinsed off, Fours caught sight of his reflection in a cracked mirror. His muscles had grown, and his body had slimmed and toned. He was more attractive in many ways if you were into a body with no hair. But it was the changes below his waist that made his stomach churn.

"I have to stay strong," he thought desperately. "I can't let them break me."

But as he was herded out of the showers, Fours couldn't shake the creeping dread that threatened to overwhelm him. Each day brought new horrors, and he feared what the next day might bring.

Two weeks later, on the exercise track, Ninety-Two flexed his bicep, watching the muscle ripple under his skin. His body had undergone a shocking transformation. Gone was the softness of fat that had once padded his frame. In its place, lean muscle began to carve definition across his chest and arms. He could now run twice as far and for twice as long as he could when he first had arrived.

"Looking good, Ninety-Two," Dees called out, as he tried to catch his breath from their morning workout.

Ninety-Two's lips quirked in a half-smile.

"Yeah, if you're into the whole 'jacked cow' aesthetic," he quipped, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of pride.

He couldn't ignore the heavy swing between his legs as he moved. His testicles, already substantial before, had grown to an impressive size – the size of large eggs. Each step was a reminder of his new reality. All the cattle were noticing it. The bouncing testicles of the herd could have easily mesmerized an observer as it moved around in unison - their sacks swinging back and forth from under the metal prison that contained their cocks.

"It's fucked up," Ninety-Two muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Part of me actually likes what I see, you know? I've always been a chubby boy. But then I remember..."

His voice trailed off, unable to voice the horror of their eventual fate. Dees nodded grimly.

"I get it. It's a mind game they're playing. Don't let it break you."

Ninety-Two swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat.

"Easier said than done, man."

Dees rubbed his friend's shoulders.

The harsh tone of the breakfast bell cut through their conversation. As they filed into the dining hall, Ninety-Two's stomach churned with a mix of hunger and dread. The air was tense as the captives took their seats, eyeing the steaming bowls of gruel warily.

"Just another day in paradise," Ninety-Two thought bitterly, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for his spoon. "Wonder what cocktail of drugs they've laced it with this time."

"I don't think I will ever get used to it," Dees replied.

The meal passed in silence save for the clatter of cutlery and the occasional stifled moan. Ninety-Two felt his cock twitch in his cage, trapped and aching for release. Though the cage was no longer constraining and painful, when they were soft, avoiding an attempted erection became a rarer occurrence.

With each passing day, his hormones had increased with no release or relief in sight. Like many cattle, he would get constant 'swellings' as they called them, for they were not erections. The chastity cage prevented that. Instead, their tissues would fill with blood and swell as far as possible, and then precum would pour out. Indeed, it was becoming harder to find a member of the herd who did not have a constant thread of precum hanging from their cages most of the day.

The nights were worse. No one got a full night's sleep. Their constant swellings brought them pain and woke them up. Everyone had a puddle of fluids in their mattress and on their blanket and the blue balls pain only increased incrementally. Ninety-Two bit his lip, determined not to let the bastards ruling over them win.

After breakfast, the cattle were herded back to the area where they had been originally processed. Weight and an army of attendants met them there. Ninety-Two gulped. Weight's expression was impassive.

"Hello, herd! As your transformation progresses, so too must your chastity devices be changed. The rings and cages you've been wearing no longer suffice. Each of you will be remeasured and receive a larger base ring, which should accommodate the increasing size of your sacks. At the same time, we will measure and downsize your cages to account for the shrinkage in your cocks."

Ninety-Two's heart pounded in his chest as he understood the implications.

"To ensure you remain soft throughout this process, you will each be given an injection through your armport," Weight replied. "In ten minutes, your caged cocks will be sufficiently limp for the exchange."

Weight snapped his fingers, and the attendants went to work. The injection was a cloudy fluid that was put directly into the same port where they received their daily intravenous medication. It stung initially as it went in, but the feeling soon ebbed.

A1 could feel the effects first. He had been experiencing a swelling since he woke up, and as his tissues deflated, he almost sighed in relief. An attendant led him to an area where the lock was removed, and the cage slipped off his body. The captive groaned as he felt his body free of the device.

Looking down, A1 could see a faint red ring around his cock and balls, evidence of the tightness of his old base ring. But it was the sight of his cock that caused him the most distress. He had always been a show-er. His soft cock filled his pants impressively and gave him something for all his fellow gay bears to gawk at. It looked to have shrunk by at least an inch, and the girth was also noticeably less thick.

A1 panicked and looked over at Ninety-Two, who looked horrified – he, too, had shrunk considerably since the last time he had been uncaged.

"Fuck," A1 groaned as the attendant began to measure his balls and shaft.

"I didn't expect to see this much change in only a few weeks," Fours said from the other side of them.

"Keep it together, guys," Dees said encouragingly as he kept his head up, refusing to look at what had become of his once impressive cock. "It is all part of the process. We are just one more step closer to being stallions."

Ninety-Two gave him a tight nod in response. They both knew the odds of all four of them being chosen as stallions were slim to none, but they had to keep up their spirits somehow.

It only took mere minutes for the herd to be refitted. Each could tell that the change in the size of the base ring encircling their balls would help with pinching and pain, but the cages they all wore were definitely smaller, and they were coated in a blue metallic color.

"You have moved into the blue category," Weight announced after the herd was lined up again. "With each resizing, you will receive a different color cage. It took you twenty-eight days to reach this stage. However, things will begin to accelerate as the drugs continue to alter your bodies. You will reach the green stage in about three weeks, the yellow stage about two weeks later, and the orange and final red innie-cage stage will come in quick succession."

"Innie-cage?" A1 asked as he looked at Fours beside him.

Fours shrugged as Weight continued.

"At the same time, the growth of your testicles will accelerate. Usually, around the yellow stage, you will be fitted with a cloth sling to help support your growth and allow for continued movement around the facility."

"How big are we going to get?" Ninety-Two said in astonishment from the other side of Fours.

"And now that you are refitted, I think it is time we hit the gym, cattle. Let's work on those gains!"

Ninety-Two smiled as he flexed his arm and saw the new bulging definition appear. He looked at his friends and posed for fun.

"You too, Sampson!" Weight growled in annoyance, and Ninety-Two and the other cattle quickly got into file and moved along.

At the beginning of week five, a new herd of cattle began to arrive. Their appearance was heralded by a different tone that blared through the facility. The cattle were herded into their pins, but the open, caged area allowed them to see across to the main entrance, where the newcomers were being led down to be processed.

A1's heart raced as he watched the new group of disoriented cattle being herded around. It looked like there were about a dozen of them. Their eyes were wide with fear and confusion, much like his own had been just weeks ago.

"Fresh meat," Ninety-Two muttered under his breath, his voice a mix of pity and relief that it wasn't him anymore.

A1 studied the newcomers, noting their varied physiques and the terror etched on their faces. One tall, muscular man with a full beard and a furry body caught his attention. The sight stirred a painful longing in A1's chest.

"That one looks like a bear," A1 whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "He looks like I used to."

Dees placed a comforting hand on A1's shoulder. "You okay, man?"

A1 shook his head, struggling to find the words.

"I... I don't know who I am anymore. That beard, that body... it was me. And now..."

He gestured helplessly at his smooth, altered form. The bearded newcomer stumbled, nearly falling as an attendant shoved him forward into the processing area where they would be cleaned, shaved, and fitted with their chastity cages. A1 winced, remembering his first days.

"I want to help them," A1 said softly. "But I can barely help myself."

Ninety-Two leaned in, his voice low. "We stick together. That's how we survive this hell."

A1 nodded, his eyes never leaving the newcomers as they moved through the doorway to processing. A maelstrom of emotions churned within him. Sympathy, fear, and a gnawing sense of loss battled for dominance. He closed his eyes, fighting back tears. When he opened them again, his gaze was steely.

"We can't let them take everything," A1 said. "Our bodies, maybe. But not who we are inside."

After some time, the newcomers appeared again. They were now hairless and still damp from their showers. A shiny silver metal chastity cage gleamed from between their legs. A1 caught the eye of the formerly bearded man. In that brief moment, a silent understanding passed between them. A1 nodded slightly, a gesture of solidarity.

"We're all in this together now," A1 murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

The dormitory buzzed with nervous energy as night fell, the captives restless in their bunks. Fours tossed and turned, his enlarged testicles an uncomfortable weight between his legs. He could hear the muffled grunts and sighs of his fellow inmates, each battling their arousal in the darkness.

"I can't take this anymore," Ninety-Two whispered from the bunk above. "I've got to try to escape. I've got to try to do something. I feel like I'm going to explode."

Fours gritted his teeth, willing himself to stay still.

"Don't do it, man. Remember what happened to Sixty-Seven last week?"

The image of Sixty-Seven's punishment flashed through Ninety-Two's mind. The captive was short and quiet, but he had always had a mouth on him. As time progressed, and the hormones increased, the confrontations that he had with other cattle had accelerated, as had the large testicles he sported that swung halfway to his knees.

The incident had started on the exercise track. Sixty-Seven had built an impressive physique. He was just shy of five foot five inches tall and had bulged muscles and the stamina to go with it. He could run circles around most of the cattle, his enormous balls bouncing around like dodgeballs tied to a post.

Halfway through their workout period, Fuckt had begun to abuse the short captive verbally. The two were no strangers to conflict, but Sixty-Seven was in no mood today. It started with shouting, which then progressed to yelling. The other cattle soon scattered, not wanting to be caught in the tussle and risk punishment. Weight soon noticed what was going on and fumed.

"What the fuck is going happening on MY track?" the eunuch beast growled as he walked over to where the two cattle were in each other's faces.

"Well?" Weight boomed.

Sixty-Seven and Fuckt did not seem to notice. Fuckt was smiling, saying something to Sixty-Seven, but Ninety-Two, from his position on the other side of the track, could not tell what. Then, it happened. Sixty-Seven drew back and punched Fuckt straight in the mouth. The other captive spun and lost his balance as the energy went through him. Then Sixty-Seven pounced. His short frame latched around Fuckt on the ground, and his arms flailed as punch after punch landed on the helpless bully.

"The fuck!" Weight screamed as he moved over and, with one hand, grabbed Sixty-Seven by the neck and hauled him into the air.

Weight tossed Sixty-Seven across to the far wall like a sack of potatoes. The smaller captive was in shock as his body hit the floor with a thud. The cattle gasped in the room, and there was an eerie silence.

"You just earned twenty demerits and a ticket to the hole!" Weight shouted.

"Twenty demerits?" Dees said in shock and horror.

Sixty-Seven was now sure to be harvested with that many negative marks.

"Fuck you, man!" Sixty-Seven said in response.

The gasp among the cattle was audible. No one had challenged Weight before, and Ninety-Two could swear he could see the beast of an attendant's eyes glowing red.

"String this fucker up!" Weight shouted to the attendants who had come in to investigate the commotion.

Five of them quickly grabbed the still struggling Sixty-Seven and brought him over to some chains hanging from the ceiling near the far side of the room. Manacles were attached to them, and the captive was locked into them so that he was barely on his tiptoes. He was still shouting and foaming at the mouth. An attendant then appeared, bringing a flogger to Weight. When Sixty-Seven saw it, he quickly became silent.

Weight moved quickly. Flinging the flogger in the air, he moved behind Sixty-Seven and brought it down on the captive's exposed back. The tails made a loud smack as they contacted the pale skin below. Sixty-Seven screamed. Weight drew back, and the cattle could see the redness on Sixty-Seven's skin as he drew back. Three more impacts came in quick succession. Two on the captive's bare ass and one loud impact on his back again. Now, there was blood appearing on the captive's skin.

Sixty-Seven wailed in pain. His feet were flailing around, and his testicles were moving in circles between them – and the impacts kept coming. Louder and faster, they rang out in the room till beads of blood started to sail through the air, covering Weight, the wall, the floor, and Sixty-Seven.

"Fuck," A1 said as his lips quivered in shock.

"Mercy!" Sixty-Seven screamed.

"Mercy?" Weight replied. "We haven't even begun yet, bitch! Take him to solitary! I'll continue with him there where no one else can hear his screams."

The attendants quickly moved to take the limp and sobbing body of Sixty-Seven down. As they dragged him away, another attendant handed Weight a towel so the large man could wipe the blood from his face and body. As he did so, he turned to the herd that had frozen in place.

"And why aren't you running?" he shouted as he flung the bloody flogger in the air.

All the cattle immediately began to move on the track again. Even Fuckt, who, in his shock, had cowered in the corner, got up to join them.

"Not you," Weight growled as he grabbed the captive by the shoulder.

"Please, Sir!" Fuckt begged.

"Not so much of a bully now, eh?" Weight said with a grin. "You just earned an additional five demerits yourself. Not that it matters."

Weight used the butt of the shaft of the flogger to lift the heavy testicles of the captive.

"You already earned more than enough to be harvested," Weight said. "I hope they let me watch when it happens to you."

The big man then stood back.

"RUN!"

Fuckt immediately joined the rest of the herd as Weight bounded out of the room after Sixty-Seven. The large man did not reappear until closer to dinner. The herd never saw their fellow captive again, though the rumor was he had been beaten close to death and spent his remaining time in solitary confinement until the time of his harvest.

A1's voice drifted over from the next bunk.

"Try to think of something else. Anything else."

Ninety-Two came back to the present. His hand was on his crotch, holding his large, warm nuts.

"Easy for you to say," he hissed down at A1. "Your sack isn't the size of a softball."

A1 smiled and reached down to feel his groin.

"Yeah, it is a little bigger than that."

Fours briefly chuckled before he closed his eyes, trying to focus on memories of home and freedom. But the constant ache in his groin kept dragging him back to the present.

"I never thought I'd miss my old body so much," Fours murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

After lunch one afternoon, a strange bell sounded throughout the Orville Farm facility. The cattle had just finished their infusion of medication and were headed to their pins to rest before the next exercise period. As the sound faded, they quickly rushed inside their cages, which were bolted closed, and all the attendants, including Weight, stood at attention and were quiet.

Ninety-Two, Fours, A1, and Dees were completely confused. Everyone remained still for several moments before a man's voice could be heard in the hallway. It seemed familiar to Fours, but he could not place it – until the man appeared.

He was a rough-looking character, with a denim shirt open at the top, revealing the dense hair covering his chest. He wore a faded blue baseball cap with the facility logo in red. His piercing blue eyes were offset by the full, dense blond beard he sported and bushy eyebrows. The man's chest and limbs were large and muscled, and his jeans were tight, showing off an impressive bulge in the front.

"That man delivered us to this facility," Fours said.

His fellow cattle all recognized him. His name was Grant Orville. He was a member of the facility's management team, and his family founded the company over a century ago. However, being the third son of a cousin of the original founder did not make him high up in the company. Still, he had stock, earned a good living, and enjoyed ferrying the new cattle to the facility.

Grant nodded as he passed the line of attendants, stopping to talk with Weight near the entrance to Fours' pen. The two figures looked over at him and his fellow cattle and smiled. Grant then walked over and opened the door to the pen.

"Surprise inspection, gentlemen," Weight announced, his voice eerily calm. "Line up for a member of the management team."

The cattle stood and assembled in the middle of the pen in four rows of ten and a final row of nine. Orville moved down each line, his piercing gaze scrutinizing each captive. When he reached Fours, he paused, a cold smile on his lips. He reached up and inspected the tag around the captive's neck.

"How are we feeling today, 4S?" Orville asked, his eyes traveling down to Fours' swollen testicles.

Fours swallowed hard, willing his voice not to shake. "Fine, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Grant's smile widened. "Good. Very good. And how are those balls doing? Any issues?"

"No, sir," Fours lied, his heart racing. "Healthy and growing."

"That's what I like to hear!" Grant said. "I remember you had a fiery head of red hair when I brought you in. You look much better shaved smooth."

"Thank you, Sir," Fours replied.

As Grant moved on, Fours let out a shaky breath. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead, his entire body tense with the effort of appearing calm and compliant.

"Ahh, yes," Grant said as he paused before Ninety-Two. "And I remember you as well!"

Grant bent down and used his hand to hold and feel the weight of the captive's large balls. They were warm and heavy.

"You were the chubby one, right?" Grant said as he stood and tapped the cattle's now firm chest.

"Yes, Sir," Ninety-Two replied.

"Damn, you filled out nicely!" Grant exclaimed. "It is hard to believe you are the same tubby specimen that I found in that run-down whore house. Though they said you had a set of balls on you - and they only have improved."

Ninety-Two just nodded. He suppressed the urge his body had to shake. The man's gaze was unnerving, and he felt a bad feeling creeping up his spine.

Grant moved behind him and ran his hands down Ninety-Two's back. When he reached the captive's ass, he patted the round, firm cheeks that presented themselves. He ran his fingers down the crack between them and licked his lips. Ninety-Two groaned as Grant moved near the captive's ear.

"If I were higher up in the company, I would have the opportunity to bend you over on the floor and breed your ass, boy. I bet that pussy of yours is virgin-tight!"

Ninety-Two's eyes widened, and he began to tremble.

"But, seeing as I am still a member of the family, they can give me a little leeway," Grant said as he walked around in front of Ninety-Two again.

Smiling, Grant reached down and unbuckled his jeans. Ninety-Two was now visibly shaking. His legs bounced on the cold floor, and his face turned white.

"Now, now!" Grant said as he stopped and held out his hand to pat the captive's face. "I told you I can't fuck you. But you can damn sure pleasure me in other ways, boy."

Grant dropped his pants. As the heavy belt hit the floor with a clang, Ninety-Two saw that the man was not wearing underwear. He had a giant semi-hard cock that was poking out of a bush of hair that framed a large set of balls. They were not the size of the cattle's balls but impressive, nonetheless.

"On your knees, boy," Grant commanded.

Ninety-Two hesitated, frozen in fear.

"That pretty mouth of yours better be on my cock in three seconds, or I'll be sure you have enough demerits to ensure those testicles of yours are harvested, cooked, and served. Hell, I might even eat them in front of you."

Ninety-Two immediately dropped to his knees. At eye level, Grant was stroking his fat cock. The captive could smell the man's musk. It was apparent he had not showered recently.

"You ever sucked cock before, boy?" Grant asked as he looked down at the captive.

Ninety-Two shook his head no, still nearly paralyzed with fear.

"Don't worry," Grant said as he stroked his now rock-hard dick. "You will learn quickly."

Grant grabbed Ninety-Two's head and shoved it forward. His thick cock slid between the captive's lips and went down his throat, causing Ninety-Two to choke and gag.

"There we go," Grant said as he started to roughly fuck the captive, not caring that Ninety-Two couldn't breathe. "Just like that. Just watch the teeth. You bite me, and you'll lose those nuts right here and now. I'll cut them off in front of everyone."

Ninety-Two was crying as his throat was roughly fucked. Grant was treating the captive's head like it was a melon with a hole in the front. Something he had loved to fuck when he was younger, growing up on his dad's farm. Spit was flowing out of Ninety-Two's mouth as he gagged and gasped for air between thrusts.

As the captive was raped, the other cattle tried to stand still and face forward. But Fours, A1, and Dees felt sorry for their friend. They wanted to leap in to help but knew that nothing could be done. They risked their lives and the lives of Ninety-Two if they even tried.

"Aww, fuck yeah!" Grant groaned as he gyrated his hips and forced his shaft down Ninety-Two's throat, nearly causing the captive to throw up. "Gawd, I needed this."

Ninety-Two was about to pass out. He could barely breathe, and blood began to trickle out of his mouth, mixed with spit, bile, and precum. He had his eyes firmly closed and held his hands behind his back, clenched in a tight grasp, his nails biting into his skin. His testicles were swinging wildly back and forth as his face was fucked, and he knew he could not take much more.

"Fuck!" Grant screamed as his cock erupted in the back of Ninety-Two's throat.

Warm cum flowed down the captive's gullet, causing him to cough and gag so violently that Grant had to pull out. As he did so, cum – still spewing from his cock – coated Ninety-Two's face and dripped down onto the concrete floor below.

"Well, that is just bad manners, boy!" Grant said as he panted and squeezed the last of his load over the boy's face. "Lick that floor clean! Swallow my cum!"

Ninety-Two was openly sobbing as he nodded.

"Yes, Sir!" he gasped.

He leaned forward and licked the floor clean of the warm cum that had escaped his mouth and made sure to use his hands to help him lick clean and swallow whatever was on his face as well. Still, his face shone in the overhead lights as remnants of Grant's fluids dried there.

"I like that look," Grant said with a laugh as he pulled his pants up and buckled them. "Make sure this one wears my seed to bed tonight, Weight!"

"We will, Sir," Weight said with a sadistic smile.

Ninety-Two was still on his knees as Grant continued down the line and then turned to leave. Without saying anything more, he motioned for the gate to be closed and locked and proceeded the way he came. After several minutes, the attendants relaxed and went about their business, and Ninety-Two collapsed on the floor in a fetal position. Fours, A1, and Dees immediately dropped to their knees to comfort him.

The violated captive was a mess. His face crusted with drying cum, blood, and other fluids. He could barely speak. His throat was raw and in intense pain.

"Time for your afternoon exercise!" came the voice of an attendant. "Everyone on their feet!"

Fours was pissed. He looked over at the attendant at the entrance to their pen and balled his fist. He looked ready to strike. Only the grip of a hand on his arm stopped him, and he looked down to see Ninety-Two looking back.

The sobbing captive shook his head no and reached out to the three of them for assistance getting up. When he was on his feet, Ninety-Two rubbed his eyes and spoke in a raspy voice.

"We are all in this together, friends. Help me to the exercise room."

A1 looked over at Dees with horror and Dees returned the look as they assisted their friend in walking forward. They were amazed by his strength and determination. A1 took up the rear and watched the attendant smile as they passed. It took all his strength not to punch the eunuch out, but he knew better.

Later that night, in their bunks, Ninety-Two lay quietly. His face was still crusted with cum, and his throat ached. Below him, Fours lay in his bunk, the scratchy blanket doing little to comfort him as he listened to the muted sobs and restless movements of his fellow captive above. His body was sore, a constant reminder of the changes being forced upon him. Yet, as he gazed into the darkness, a spark of defiance ignited within him.

"I won't let them break us," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Ninety-Two spoke out in reply. "Did you say something, Fours?"

Fours hesitated, then replied, "Just... thinking about how to get through this."

Ninety-Two smiled.

"We're cattle now, remember?"

Fours clenched his fists, feeling a surge of determination.

"Maybe. But we're still human inside, aren't we? They can't treat you that way!"

There was a moment of silence before A1's voice drifted over from across the room.

"Sometimes I wonder."

"No," Fours insisted, sitting up slightly. "We can't let them take that from us. Our bodies, sure, but not... not who we are."

Dees's calm tone cut through the darkness.

"Our essence remains our own if we choose to preserve it. Ninety-Two proved that today."

Fours nodded, even though no one could see him. He thought about his life before, his simple joys and dreams. They seemed so far away now, but he refused to let them fade completely.

"We are going to survive this," he murmured, more to himself than the others. "And we are going to remember who we are, no matter what they do to us."

As he settled back down, Fours felt a strange mix of fear and resolve coursing through him. The farm might control their bodies, but their mind – their true self – would remain their own. It was a small victory, perhaps, but it felt like everything in this place of endless degradation.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

As with my other stories on Nifty, I accept and love to get constructive feedback and criticism from my readers. You can contact me at slavebear1976@gmail.com