Contained Ch 02

When my milking stand is clean, I return to my uncomfortable position. We are not allowed to leave this position until every slave has received their milking. In total, there are 18 of us, males. I know there is a secondary building or hangar where they also keep female slaves, but I have never seen it. I don't know how many are held there.

This place is a cruel place. We are kept here as human slaves for several monetary purposes. I don't know the full extent or the name of the organization that is doing this to us, and I will likely never find out.

Males like myself undergo several extraction processes. For example, they extract our semen so that it can be sold for in-vitro purposes. I don't just mean in-vitro fertilization for couples who have trouble procreating. There are many other in-vitro experiments that require human DNA, semen, blood, or other bodily liquids.

Unfortunately, it doesn't end there. On occasion, we will receive groups of visitors, males, and females, presumably wealthy, who will look at us from behind our glass transparent cubby doors. Some slaves get picked by them for rental purposes.

Sometimes slaves get rented for a day, some as long as a month. They always return, but rarely in better shape than they left. I know number 15 was rented for a while by a pharmaceutical company because they wanted to test a new drug they had on a human with his blood type. Several numbers were rented out for sexual purposes. Number 2 once was rented simply to serve as a good-looking date for a wedding. And number 5 was once rented out because some rich college kids wanted to beat a guy to an inch of his life for fun, without repercussions.

The more risk of damage a job has, the higher the rental fee. However, if a slave gets damaged unrepairably, we get transported to a new facility. the keepers call it 'The Underground'. I have only heard rumors of what goes on there, but basically, it's the finality of what they can sell from you before you pass on. Think of skin grafts, organs, hair, etcetera. Once a number is 'out', he or she gets replaced by a new person.

I ended up here when I was 19 years old. After high school, I had big plans. My parents wanted me to go to college so I could start a good career. I got some scholarship offers from decent schools due to my athletic abilities, but I had different ideas of what mattered in life. I was dead-set on 'backpacking around the world'.

I wanted to see Europe, Australia, Asia,... I had worked the most awful student jobs for years to be able to afford it. My plan was to hitchhike to airports or train stations and see where the flow would take me. Looking back on it now, I see how crazy and dangerous my plan really was. My parents couldn't follow any trajectory of my travels because of my go-with-the-flow plan, they don't even know if I made it off the continent or not. For all they know, I'm still traveling. The police won't be alarmed either seeing how I'm legally an adult and it is known I'm traveling. No one has a way to check in on me. I chose to go 'off the grid' and be one with the world.

My second week was when it all turned sour. I was hitchhiking and got a lift from a truck driver. Nice enough guy. We chatted for a while, and that is the last thing I remember. I must have fallen asleep or he must have drugged me or something, because the next thing I knew, I woke up here in the facility. That is where my life ended, and my slave life began.

My first week here was absolutely horrible. The old me had a lot of trouble with conforming, and I was known to have a very rebellious side. The adjustment did not go over easily.

Of course, Old Me did not stand a chance. The people who run this facility have been doing so for a very long time, that much I can tell. They are professionals in breaking people mentally and physically. Unfortunately, Old Me didn't realize that until it was far too late. I fought them with all I had in me. I screamed, I kicked, I went on hunger strike, I disobeyed, I bit a keeper, I damaged a cubby, I attacked a client... You name it, and I've probably done it. In the end, none of it mattered. They have all the time in the world to break you, and sooner or later, they will.

"Break!"

Finally, the signal that the last milking is done, and we are all allowed to move again. I immediately get up and do my stretching exercises, releasing a loud crackling noise from between my shoulder blades. I sigh in relief as I'm finally able to move my limbs around a bit. I do some arm thrusts followed by some squats and jumps. My dick is slowly settling down as well, now that the first part of the day is over. We follow the same schedule every day, and next up is showering.

"Line!"

The transparent doors of our cubbies slide open one by one, and all male slaves form a neat line, all exactly 2 meters separated from each other, face downward, hands in fists behind the back. When the keeper commands us, we all neatly walk towards the shower area, like ducks in a row. The keepers, watching us like hawks. There's a total of eight keepers watching us right now. They each have a baton in hand, and a taser attached to their gear. Any anomaly would be dealt with swiftly.

I hate the morning showers. They put us all in one big square room with a bunch of shower heads attached to the ceiling. First, high-pressured cold water shoots out, then after 5 minutes, a liquid soap substance that we have to use to scrub ourselves head to toe. That is followed by a 7-minute cold stream to rinse. They use cold water because it is beneficial for blood circulation, muscle soreness, and weight loss. It also helps a lot with the red irritated skin on waxing day. That happens about three times a month. They keep us hairless at all times, except for our heads. In case we need to look 'pretty' for a rental.

When in the shower, we are not allowed to look anywhere but down. Speaking is always prohibited, no matter where you are in the facility. I haven't spoken a word since the day I conformed. Slaves have no voice for speaking, that is the rule.

When teaching you to be silent, they place a device around your neck, sort of like a shock collar for dogs. Whenever you would speak, the collar would release an electroshock to your neck strong enough to make your knees buckle. Moaning or grunting is allowed at certain times, or when addressed directly. I once overheard the keepers saying that on rare occasions, when a slave truly refuses to conform to the speaking rule, they will remove said slave's vocal cords. I don't know if it is true, or just a story to scare us into being silent, but I'm not willing to find out. The only sound in the shower is the clattering of water, and the tapping of the metal locks against the metal cages entrapping our penisses.

After the shower, it is time for breakfast and our daily jobs. We return in a single file line to our cubbies, where a glass will have been set out, containing a type of protein shake. The shake has everything we need to start the day. It tastes like drinking chalky milk, so I always drink it as fast as I can.

The jobs we do rotate every week and differentiate per slave. There are 'regular' jobs that have to be done to maintain daily life, for example tending to the vegetable farm or the chicken coops. Working in the kitchen, the laundry room, or on the cleaning crew..., and there are 'odd' jobs. For example feeding the slaves in isolation, impregnating female slaves, semen production, blood production, test-lab work, etc. Each slave gets four jobs assigned. One for every week of the month. Which job you get depends on your age, strengths, and weaknesses. My jobs, as a young healthy male are an impregnator, semen production, test-lab, and vegetable farming.

This week it's impregnating females.