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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 8: The Final Stretch
"Move it, cattle!"
Weight's booming voice echoed through the corridor as the captives shuffled into the cold, sterile room adjacent to the showers.
Fours shivered, his bare feet slapping against the concrete floor. The air felt heavy and oppressive. He glanced at the others lining up beside him - Ninety-Two's jaw was clenched while A1 trembled visibly.
"What fresh hell is this?" Ninety-Two muttered under his breath.
Fours swallowed hard. "I bet it's another cage swap."
"Ding, ding!" Weight replied with a smile. "Fours still has a brain to go with that massive sack of his. It's time for the next phase of your transformation. You know the drill. Line up for your injections. We can't have you getting hard when fitted with these special cages."
A1 groaned as an attendant approached him and used a needle to inject the anti-erection medication into his arm.
After a brief period, a new array of cages were brought out. The base rings on the devices were huge. They could easily be mistaken for large bangles that women would wear. However, they had to be able to accommodate the circumference of the cattle's scrotums. They just seem to continue to grow. Each of them had seen their testicles increase in size by almost five hundred percent on average.
This change had accelerated in the past week, and the sheer mass of the organs caused their sacks to hang halfway to their knees or lower in some cases. They had forced all of them to walk with a swaying motion. They could no longer run during their exercise period and had been forced to power walk at the most.
The new cage portion looked different. Instead of an anatomically designed metal form to encase the head of a penis, it was a completely flat, orange-colored metal piece that had an opening in the center attached to a short plastic tube.
"I am sure you are all wondering how this works, so why don't we have Fours demonstrate the new device?
Fours groaned as he stepped forward, and three attendants surrounded him. As one unlocked the chastity device he was currently wearing, a green metal one that was only a half-inch in length, the other slowly slid the old base ring off his body, carefully getting the swollen cattle's sack through without hurting it.
Once the cage was removed, Fours gasped. The head of his penis was all that was visible. The shaft had atrophied entirely away. The shape and size of the head of his cock had also shrunk even more. It was more pubescent looking.
"Well, lookie there," Weight replied playfully. "That tiny thing is just about gone."
Fours tensed up as he felt one of the attendants lift and hold his massive sack to relieve some of the pressure on the stretched skin. Another attendant slid the new base ring around the bloated organ and made sure it was a firm but correct fit, sitting against his abdomen when in place. When they were satisfied with the fitting, the third picked up the flat metal cage.
The plastic tube was a short catheter. It was inserted into the piss slit of Fours' small cockhead, and the captive winced as it was pushed deeper. Once the two-inch piece was in place, the flat metal piece made contact with the head of his cock, and it was pushed back until it locked into place with the base ring using a hex nut.
As the attendants stepped away, the cage gave Fours the appearance of having no cock at all. He was just a set of enormous balls with a flat round piece above them with a hole to piss out of. The captive was demoralized and ashamed.
"Don't you look cute," Weight said in jest. "Now we have one more surprise for you."
Fours turned to see one of the attendants carrying some orange fabric. It was stretched out, and he saw it was a singlet like a wrestler would wear, with thin straps to go over the shoulders and down the back. It was connected to high-cut shorts with an ample front pouch. The attendants helped Fours step into it, and as the straps were pulled over his shoulders, he could feel his enormous sack fall into the pouch, giving him incredible support. The back was assless and framed his toned buttocks.
"How's that feel?" the attendant asked, his tone oddly gentle.
Fours shifted uncomfortably, the new sensation both a relief and a source of awkwardness.
"Well?" Weight asked.
"It's... better," he admitted reluctantly. "It really provides support."
Weight laughed.
"That's the goal. With these garments, you can all return to your runs, and your testicles will be supported during your last two weeks of growth. We expect continued volume increases up to the day of your harvest."
A collective groan came from the cattle as each was taken in turn and fitted with their new chastity cages and support singlets. A1 stumbled as he tried to adjust to his sling.
"I feel like a damn pack mule," he muttered.
Dees chuckled softly.
"More like prized bulls, I'd say."
Once they were fitted, they filed out of the room. Fours noticed the others moving with exaggerated care, their gaits unsteady. He focused on each step, hyper-aware of the swing and pull of his altered body. Once they arrived in the exercise area, Weight barked orders.
"Jumping jacks! Move it! It's time to test out those singlets and get you back into a normal routine!"
Fours gritted his teeth, struggling to maintain his balance as he began the exercise. His muscles strained as his package bounced up and down within the singlet they wore.
"This is crazy," he gasped, meeting Dees' eyes.
Dees, red-faced but determined, nodded. "One rep at a time. We'll adapt."
Fours pushed on, his body screaming in protest. But with each labored movement, a grim resolve grew within him. They'd survive this. They had to.
Ninety-Two's labored breathing cut through the air as he struggled through another set of burpees. His face contorted in a grimace, sweat beading on his brow. The support singlet chafed against his skin, a constant reminder of his altered state.
"This is bullshit," he muttered, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "We're not cattle, we're fucking human beings."
Fours glanced over, concern etching his features.
"Keep it down, Ninety-Two. You don't want to attract attention."
Ninety-Two snorted, a humorless grin twisting his lips.
"What are they gonna do, make our balls even bigger? Might as well go for a world record at this point."
His sarcasm drew nervous chuckles from a few captives, but others shifted uneasily, eyeing the watchful attendants.
As they transitioned to squats, Ninety-Two's movements became increasingly erratic. His internal turmoil bubbled to the surface, manifesting in jerky, aggressive motions.
"You okay there, big guy?" Dees asked, his voice low and cautious.
Ninety-Two's eyes flashed.
"Oh, I'm just peachy. Living the dream, aren't we all?"
Fours watched the exchange, a knot forming in his stomach. He could see the barely contained rage simmering beneath Ninety-Two's forced smile.
"Maybe we should take a breather," Fours suggested, hoping to diffuse the tension.
But Ninety-Two was beyond reason. The hormones building inside him over the past few weeks were taking over. In a sudden burst of anger and frustration, he lashed out, shoving the captive next to him.
"Move it, slowpoke! Some of us are trying to work here!"
The pushed captive stumbled, nearly falling.
"What the hell, man?" he shouted, regaining his balance.
Ninety-Two's face contorted with fury.
"You want to go? Let's go!"
He flexed his broad, muscled chest and lunged forward – fists clenched.
Chaos erupted as other captives tried to intervene. Shouts filled the air, bodies collided, and the attendants rushed towards the growing scuffle. Fours stood frozen, his heart pounding. He knew this wouldn't end well for any of them.
The cacophony of shouts and grunts filled the exercise yard as captives jostled and pushed, their bloated bodies colliding awkwardly. Just as the situation threatened to spiral out of control, a firm voice cut through the chaos.
"That's enough, fellas! Let's all take a step back now!"
PeeQue emerged from the crowd, his presence starkly contrasting with the frenzied energy around him. His empty scrotum swung pendulously as he walked, a visceral reminder of their shared fate. Despite his physical state, PeeQue's calm demeanor commanded attention.
"Ninety-Two, come with me," PeeQue said. "The rest of you, back to your exercises."
As PeeQue led Ninety-Two away, the captive's anger seemed to deflate, replaced by a mixture of defiance and resignation.
"You gonna write me up, PeeQue?" Ninety-Two asked, his voice hoarse.
PeeQue sighed, his eyes filled with empathy.
"You know I have to, big guy. Instigating a fight comes with a punishment of five demerits and an optional flogging depending on the severity of the incident."
Ninety-Two's jaw clenched.
"Five? Come on, man. It wasn't that bad."
"Rules are rules, Ninety-Two. You know that. There were other attendants in the exercise room. They saw what happened, too. If I go too easy on you, Weight will become involved."
Ninety-Two kicked at the concrete floor, his swollen scrotum swaying with the movement.
"Yeah, well, the rules suck."
PeeQue placed a gentle hand on Ninety-Two's shoulder.
"I know it's tough. But losing your cool like that? It only makes things worse."
"What does it matter?" Ninety-Two muttered, his voice cracking. "We're all just meat to them anyway."
PeeQue's eyes darted around, ensuring no other attendants were within earshot.
"Listen, I can't change what's happening here. But I am trying to make it a little more bearable. I'm going to write you up and assign you the demerits, but I won't add a flogging because no one was hurt. I can make that fly with Weight. Don't give up, okay?"
Ninety-Two nodded slowly, the fight draining from his body. As PeeQue led him back to the group, the captive's shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions and their consequences settling heavily upon him.
Fours watched the exchange between PeeQue and Ninety-Two, his heart racing. The former redhead's pale skin glistened with sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to process what he'd just witnessed.
"Jesus," Fours muttered under his breath, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
His mind raced, thoughts swirling like a tempest.
"What if I snap like that? What if I can't handle this?"
The constriction of his newly fitted chastity cage and the mass of his swollen testicles were on his mind as he pondered the implications of the next two weeks leading to stallion selection and harvest. His stomach churned with a mix of hope and dread.
"You okay there?" Dees' deep voice cut through Fours' spiraling thoughts.
Fours blinked, focusing on the captive's concerned face.
"I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "How can any of this be okay?"
Dees glanced around before guiding Fours to a quieter corner of the room.
"Look, I know it's rough," he said, his tone low and reassuring. "But, like I keep telling you guys every day. We gotta keep it together, you hear me? Especially now as the days are ticking away."
Fours nodded, swallowing hard.
"I keep thinking about the selection," he confessed, his blue eyes wide with fear. "What happens to the ones who aren't chosen? The ones who are... harvested?"
Dees' jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his face.
"I try not to think about it," he admitted. "But I reckon it ain't pretty."
"How do you do it?" Fours asked, his voice cracking. "How do you stay so... calm?"
Dees chuckled humorlessly.
"Trust me. I'm screaming on the inside, just like everyone else. But losing it like Ninety-Two? That ain't gonna help anyone."
Fours nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.
"I'm scared, Dees," he whispered. "I don't want to lose myself in here."
Dees placed a gentle hand on Fours' shoulder.
"Then don't," he said firmly. "Remember who you are. Hold onto that, no matter what they do to us."
Fours looked up, a glimmer of determination in his eyes.
"What if we're chosen as stallions? You and me. But the others are not."
Dees sighed heavily.
"Then we do what we gotta do to survive. But we don't forget who we are. Deal?"
Fours nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Deal."
As they rejoined the group, Fours felt a strange mix of fear and resolve settle in his chest. Whatever came next, he wouldn't face it alone.
Later in the afternoon, while they were in their pen waiting for supper, Dees' eyes scanned the herd and then approached Fours. Speaking in a low whisper, he took him by the arm.
"Listen, Fours. I've been thinking a lot about our conversation. We might not be able to change our situation, but we can change how we face it."
Fours leaned in.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," Dees continued, his tone measured and calm, "we focus on what we can control. Our minds, our reactions. They can't take that from us."
Fours nodded slowly, processing Dees' words. He glanced down at his swollen scrotum supported in his singlet – a constant reminder of their predicament.
"But how? When every day, we're... changing?"
Dees' lips quirked in a wry smile.
"We adapt. We find moments of normalcy, even here. Like this conversation. It's a reminder we're still human."
A sudden commotion near the far wall caught their attention. Two captives were arguing over something, their voices rising.
"See that?" Dees murmured. "That's what we avoid – giving in to our hormones. Letting that built-up energy explode. We have to conserve it for what matters."
Fours watched the altercation, noting how quickly a steer intervened.
"I get it," he said softly. "We're all we've got in here."
"Exactly," Dees affirmed, his eyes meeting Fours'. "We look out for each other. Come with me."
Dees directed Fours over to the corner where Ex was sitting as usual. The captive had given up his practice of crossing his legs. It was impossible now that he had a melon below his tiny cock now. But, he had them bent around his large scrotum with his hands resting on top of the organ. His head was tilted back, and his eyes closed.
As Dees and Fours approached, Ex opened one eye and nodded to them. Dees put his hands together and bowed slightly, and Ex moved his hand to direct the captive to sit next to him.
"What is going on?" Fours asked.
"Do as I do," Dees said as he attempted to sit while supporting his bloated sack.
Fours shrugged and repeated the gesture, bringing his hands together and bowing. Ex nodded and directed the captive to take the spot on his other side.
"Have you come to meditate?" Ex asked in his soft, monotone voice.
"We have," Dees replied.
"Then breathe in for three seconds and then exhale for six," Ex said as he closed his eyes again and rested his hands on his sack. "Breathe in... breathe out."
Dees nodded to Fours as he closed his eyes and complied. Fours shrugged and joined in. Slowly, their heart rates dropped, and Fours could feel a sort of peace.
The herd returned to their sleeping cells at the end of the day. Fours felt a strange mix of comfort and unease. Dees' pragmatism had given him a lifeline, and the session with Ex helped to calm his mind, but the weight of their reality still pressed down on him.
They shuffled down the sterile hallway, their footsteps echoing off the cold walls. Fours caught glimpses of his fellow captives – some with heads bowed, others with jaws clenched in defiance.
Reaching their cell, Fours settled onto his lower bunk, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position. He watched Ninety-Two climb above him and A1 get into his bed. Dees was the final one to climb into his bunk. They each were grappling with their altered bodies.
In the dim light, Fours' mind wandered to the impending harvest. The thought sent a chill down his spine, but Dees' words echoed in his head.
"Remember who you are."
As silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional rustle of movement or muffled sigh, Fours closed his eyes. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new horrors. But for now, in this moment of fragile peace, he held onto the small spark of hope that Dees had ignited.
The harvest loomed, an ever-present shadow. But they weren't cattle, not really. They were men, clinging to their humanity in the face of unimaginable adversity. And as Fours drifted into an uneasy sleep, he silently vowed to hold onto that truth, no matter what came next.
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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