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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.
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The Orville Farm
Chapter 6: The Breaking Point
The harsh clang of metal doors jolted A1 from his fitful slumber. His eyes snapped open, heart racing as reality crashed back – another day in this hell.
"Up and at 'em, cattle!" Weight's booming voice echoed through the cramped sleeping quarters.
A1 groaned, his swollen testicles throbbing as he slowly sat up. The metal cage constricting his manhood felt tighter than ever. All around him, his fellow captives stirred reluctantly.
"C'mon herd, you know the drill," Weight barked. "Single file, let's move!"
A1's legs trembled as he stood, and the mass between them was a constant torment. He shuffled forward, joining the line of groggy cattle filing out of the room.
"This can't go on forever," he thought desperately. "There has to be a way out..."
But hope felt increasingly futile as they were herded down the sterile hallway toward the processing room. A1's stomach churned at the sight of the attendants waiting inside, arrayed before a table laden with gleaming green metal devices. PeeQue stood to the side, his kind eyes meeting A1's briefly before darting away. The steer's deflated, empty scrotum swayed as he shifted uneasily. Weight's massive form blocked the doorway as the last captive entered.
"Alright, cattle, time for your upgrades. These new cages will ensure you're growing nice and compact for the harvest."
A shudder ran through the group as they saw the size of the devices. While a custom base ring would be selected for each individual member of the herd to ensure a proper fit, the cages that would cover and secure their shaft and cock heads were much smaller than the blue metal ones they currently wore. A1 felt bile rise in his throat as the implications sank in. As the first captive was fitted, A1's mind raced. There had to be a way to resist, to fight back. But with his will eroding, what chance did they truly have?
Each of the cattle was injected with a serum in their arm that caused their cocks to deflate and prevented any type of erection. Once ten minutes had passed, they were lined up, and soon, the metallic click of each lock echoed through the room, a grim metronome marking their descent into further dehumanization.
When his turn came, A1 flinched as his old lock was removed, and the blue metal device fell away. He looked down to see his swollen scrotum containing the massive testicles that were growing day by day inside. On top, his soft cock lay over them. The metal bars of his cage had caused a pattern to be impressed into the skin, a result of the constant swelling he had during the day as a biological erection was prevented.
However, it was obvious his cock had shrunk. It had shrunk a lot. It was now only half the size it was when he first arrived. The shaft sat there barely an inch and a half long, and the girth was dramatically lower. He watched as the attendant measured the circumference around his balls and shaft near the root and slid a new base ring in place. Then came the smaller green metal cage, no more than an inch long.
"No... please," he whispered, his voice cracking.
The attendant ignored him, deftly manipulating the green cage around A1's cock and forcing it inside its prison. As the lock securing the cage snapped shut, A1 gasped at the increased pressure on his cock head. It looked tiny compared to the size of his sack, which was larger than a softball now.
"Christ," he thought, fighting back tears. "What's left of me now?"
His eyes darted frantically around the room, seeking any sign of sympathy or humanity. They landed on PeeQue, who stood awkwardly to the side, his own mutilated body a stark reminder of their shared fate. As the last captive was processed, PeeQue shuffled forward hesitantly.
"I... I know this is hard," he said softly, his gentle Midwestern drawl at odds with the clinical brutality of the scene. "But try to stay strong. It's... it's not forever."
A1 wanted to lash out, to scream that PeeQue's words were meaningless. But something in the steer's eyes – a flicker of shared pain – held him back.
"How?" A1 managed, his voice barely audible. "How do we endure this?"
PeeQue's shoulders slumped.
"One day at a time. You have your fellow cattle to help you. You're not alone here."
A few of the other captives nodded cautiously, a fragile thread of connection forming between them. But others turned away, too beaten down to risk even a moment of hope.
A1 stood frozen, torn between despair and a desperate need to believe.
"I don't know if I can," he admitted, still feeling utterly exposed without his familiar coat of body hair.
PeeQue's hand twitched as if he wanted to offer a comforting touch but knew it was forbidden.
"You're stronger than you think," he murmured. "All of you are."
The clatter of metal trays echoed through the dining area as A1 and the other captives shuffled into line. A1's stomach churned as he approached the serving station, eyeing the gray, gelatinous mass that passed for food.
"Looks like shit, tastes even worse," muttered Fours behind him, his voice barely above a whisper.
A1 nodded grimly, accepting his portion with trembling hands. The weight of the new, tighter cage between his legs was a constant, maddening presence. He found a spot at one of the long tables, wincing as he lowered himself onto the cold metal bench. Ninety-Two, Dees, and Fours sat down with him.
"Down the hatch," Ninety-Two said wearily, raising his spoon in a mock toast before shoveling a mouthful of the foul-tasting slop into his mouth.
A1 forced himself to eat. Each swallow a struggle against his gag reflex. As the drug-laced meal hit his system, he felt a familiar warmth spreading through his body, followed by an insistent throb in his groin.
"Christ," he hissed, shifting uncomfortably. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"
Dees, sitting across from him, nodded solemnly.
"They're ramping up the dosage. I really feel it after our afternoon infusions. Harvest time is only four weeks away."
A1 closed his eyes, fighting against the rising tide of desperation. His testicles felt impossibly heavy. His cock was swollen again, straining against the confines of its new smaller metal prison. The need for release was becoming all-consuming, clouding his thoughts with a haze of primal urgency.
"I don't know how much longer I can take this," A1 admitted, his voice cracking. "It's like my body isn't my own anymore."
"That's what they want," Dees replied, his eyes scanning the room for any listening attendants. "To break us down, make us nothing but walking factories for their sick trade."
A1 nodded, but the words barely registered through the pounding in his ears. He found himself eyeing the corners of the room, wondering if there was anywhere he could find a moment of privacy, a chance to alleviate the maddening pressure.
"Don't even think about it," Fours warned, noticing A1's wandering gaze. "Remember what happened to Y3?"
The memory of the other captive's agonized screams as he was punished for attempting self-relief sent a chill down A1's spine. But still, the temptation lingered, a siren song of momentary escape from this living nightmare.
"I just... I can't..." A1 struggled to find the words as he let his spoon drop on the table with a clang. His former eloquence was lost in a fog of hormones and fear.
Ninety-Two reached out, his hand hovering just above A1's arm, not quite touching. "We're here, brother. We'll get through this together."
A1 met his gaze, finding a flicker of his pain and determination reflected there. He took a shuddering breath, willing himself to focus on something, anything, beyond the relentless demands of his altered body.
Later in the week, PeeQue approached the four captive friends and asked if they would be interested in some manual labor to break the monotony. A storage room was being cleared so that the adjacent room could be expanded, and there were many heavy crates to go through and remove. The cattle readily agreed, and the attendant brought them into the room to get started.
Ninety-Two was amazed at how much had been packed into the space. There were cardboard and wooden boxes of various shapes stacked to the ceiling. Many contained paperwork, cooking instruments, and even cleaning supplies, but others had different bits of metal and plastic inside. No one had any idea what they could be used for.
They each took a separate part of the room, with PeeQue guarding the door and supervising. It was not easy work, but it gave them time to keep busy and not think about their current predicament. In the rear corner, A1 opened up yet another crate, the tenth he had gone through in the past thirty minutes, and inside, he saw various pieces of broken and formed plastic. There were half spheres, shattered fragments of various shapes, and many different forms of rods.
He reached in and grabbed one of the rods about six inches long and rounded off at both ends, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Fuck, I bet this would work great as a dildo."
His groin instantly burned. Hormones racing through his system overcame any reason that he might have had. He grabbed the rod and slipped into the narrow space between the storage crates. The crude device felt heavy in his trembling hands.
"Just... just a moment," he whispered as he looked around for his fellow cattle members or the sight of PeeQue. "One moment is all I need."
He reached down and rubbed his hand over his cage. Precum now was constantly spilling forth from his cock these days, and it did not take long to get a puddle in his palm. He applied it to the rod, rubbing it up and down, and then reached behind him to force his slick fingers into his asshole.
The sensation of his finger as it slipped inside made him groan. His balls ached, and a spurt of precum flew out of his caged cock and hit the floor with an audible sound. His legs trembled, and he almost lost his balance, causing one of the crates to shift.
"You ok over there, A1?" came the voice of Dees.
"Yeah, I'm fine!" A1 called out, clenching his teeth and slowly removing his finger.
His heart was racing. He could feel every beat in his chest. After waiting to ensure no one was coming, he laid over one of the crates. He then moved the rod behind him and lined it up with his ass. Slowly, he moved the device inside him. As it entered, he shuttered. His eyes rolled back into his head.
"God, I miss getting fucked."
The pressure in his swollen testicles was unbearable, clouding his thoughts with a primal need for release. As the rod went deeper, it passed over his swollen prostate. He was expecting a shiver through his whole body. He remembered the feeling well. But instead, there was nothing. He applied pressure and moved the rod around but still felt nothing.
"What the hell?" A1 said to himself. "Maybe I don't have the right position. I can get this."
It was then that a wave of shame washed over him. But the hormones coursing through his system drowned out any remaining hesitation. He began to work the makeshift toy in and out of his ass, making sure to point it towards where he knew his prostate was. A shuffling sound froze him in place. A1 turned around, and his eyes widened in terror as PeeQue's familiar figure stared at him. He was watching everything.
"A1?" PeeQue's voice was soft, tinged with surprise and dismay. "What are you-"
"Please," A1 begged.
He had pulled his hand away from the toy. Slowly, it fell out of his ass, making a clanging sound when it hit the floor below. A1 spun around and got on his knees. He clasped his hands together as if he was praying. Tears were welling in his eyes.
"I can't take it anymore. I have to cum. Don't... don't report me."
The commotion had drawn the attention of the other cattle, who were now standing behind their attendant. PeeQue's expression twisted with conflict, his mutilated genitals a stark reminder of the fate that awaited them all.
"I... I have to, A1. You know the rules."
"There has to be another way," A1 pleaded, his desperation palpable. "Can't you just pretend you didn't see?"
PeeQue's shoulders slumped, defeat evident in every line of his body. He knew what he had to do but fought against it as hard as he could.
"I'm sorry, A1. I wish... I wish things were different."
A1 sobbed as PeeQue picked up the evidence from the floor.
"You know this would have never worked, right? he said to A1.
"What?" A1 replied.
"The drugs they give you... that they gave me... they deactivate and deaden your prostate. You can never orgasm again."
"What???" A1 wailed.
"The stallions can be given a treatment to reverse the process, but for us slaves, we will never cum again."
A1 fell to the ground in a mass of pain. PeeQue bent down and pulled him to his feet to leave. A1 felt the last remnants of hope drain away, leaving nothing but the cold reality of his captivity. His cattle friends could only stare silently as they left the room.
Early the next morning, A1 lay curled on his side, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain. The bright, harsh fluorescent lights of the isolation cell bore into his skull, amplifying the throbbing ache that radiated from his freshly whipped back. They had stayed on all night – forcing him to remain awake. Under the watchful eye of Weight, PeeQue had been forced to give him three lashes while A1 had stood in front of the entire herd. He then had been given ten demerits and a stint in solitary. He ran a shaking hand over his body, feeling utterly alien in his skin.
"Fuck," he whispered, his voice cracking. "What have I done? What was it all for?"
He sobbed. The weight of his actions crushed down on him. He'd thrown away his chance at becoming a stallion, condemning himself to certain harvesting. His swollen testicles felt like lead weights, a constant reminder of his impending fate. He would never feel the release and pleasure of an orgasm again.
A metallic clang echoed through the cell as the door swung open. He looked up to see PeeQue staring down at him.
"I am sorry," the attendant said softly as he looked at the red face and bloodshot eyes of the captive – his face covered in tears.
"It was not your fault, PeeQue," A1 replied with a sob, wiping his cheek. "You did what you had to do. I was in the wrong. I deserved this."
PeeQue felt horrible and walked over to help the captive to his feet. The fresh red scars from the captive's flogging were bright and visible on his back and upper ass.
"I talked to Weight and convinced him to allow you to return to your cell," PeeQue said. "Can you walk?"
"I can walk," A1 said as he wiped his face and entered the corridor.
"It is about an hour before the morning bell, but I thought you would like some time to collect your thoughts and see your roommates before the routine begins again," PeeQue replied.
"Thanks," A1 said as he slowly returned to his sleeping cell.
As the door was opened and he was let in, his friends woke and looked over at him, their faces etched with concern.
Ninety-Two gave embraced him gently.
"Hey, big bear. How're you holding up?"
A1 let out a bitter laugh.
"Big bear."
Ninety-Two rubbed the captive's shoulders.
"I'm fucked," A1 replied. "Completely and utterly fucked. I'm ripe for the harvest now. No more orgasms for me – ever."
A1 collapsed on the floor, and his friends surrounded him. Fours knelt, placing a hesitant hand on A1's shoulder.
"We're here for you. Whatever you need."
"What I need," A1 growled, "is to turn back time and not be such a fucking idiot."
Ninety-Two sighed.
"Look, we've all been there. The urges, the desperation—"
"But you didn't get caught," A1 interrupted his voice tight with anguish. "You didn't throw everything away for a moment of... of..."
"Relief?" Fours finished quietly. "It's okay to admit it, A1. We're all fighting the same battle here."
A1 closed his eyes, feeling tears threaten to spill over.
"I just... I don't know how to go on. Knowing what's coming for me now."
"One day at a time," Ninety-Two said firmly. "That's all we can do. And we'll be right here with you every step of the way."
A shadow darkened the doorway as the weight of A1's predicament settled over the group. Dees was standing behind them, his tall frame filling the space with a quiet authority.
"We were concerned about you," his deep voice tinged with a warmth that seemed out of place in the sterile facility.
A1 shrugged, too drained to protest. Dees settled onto the floor, his well-defined muscles flexing as he crossed his legs.
"Rough day, huh?" he said, his eyes meeting A1's.
"You could say that," A1 said with a forced sob and chuckle, unable to hold Dees' gaze.
"You know," Dees began, his tone conversational, "this reminds me of a time back in my Navy SEAL days."
Fours perked up.
"You were a SEAL?"
Dees nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips.
"Feels like a lifetime ago now. But yeah, I was. And let me tell you, the training... it pushed us to our limits and beyond."
"Well, now we know why you always seem to get through these exercise periods easily!" Fours replied.
"How'd you survive all that training?" Ninety-Two asked, leaning forward. "I've heard it is brutal."
"One step at a time," Dees replied, echoing Ninety-Two's earlier words. "And by leaning on each other. We were a team, and that bond... it was everything."
A1 found himself listening despite his misery.
"But this... this is different. We're not training for anything. We're just waiting to be..."
"Harvested?" Dees finished, his voice gentle. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean we stop fighting. That we stop being human."
"How can you stay so... positive?" A1 asked, genuinely curious.
Dees' eyes clouded for a moment.
"I've seen darker times than this. I've seen real conflict and human misery. I learned that hope... it's not about expecting things to get better. It's about finding meaning in the struggle itself."
As Dees spoke, A1 felt something shift inside him. The despair didn't vanish, but it loosened its grip ever so slightly.
"We got you, big bear," Fours said, reaching to clasp A1's hand. Ninety-Two followed suit, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Dees.
At that moment, surrounded by the cold walls of their prison, A1 felt a flicker of warmth. It wasn't freedom or salvation, but it was something – something to hold onto in the darkness that lay ahead.
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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