The Resistance

The first thing he became aware of was that he was kneeling in front of his bed. Correction, what used to be his bed. These days he slept in the dog cage to the side of it. The second thing he noticed was all the metal he was wearing.

He looked down at himself. His stomach was flat and toned, all the better to see his manhood padlocked in its chastity cage. The cage was stainless steel, like the heavy ring in each of his nipples and in his nose. Around his neck he felt the cold weight of a solid metal collar. His wrists and ankles were behind his back but they too had similar accessories. Apart from all this permanent jewellery, he was naked.

His mistress and owner was sleeping late in what used to be his bed, arms and legs sticking carelessly out of a familiar blanket. It was her blanket now, her bed. Everything in the place belonged to her. It had been that way since the occupation. With her horns, it was easier for her to sleep on one ear. Even curled up on her side, her feet still hung over the edge of the bed. She stood a full head and shoulders taller than he did, not that he often had a chance to stand next to her. Usually he was on his knees, or crawling.

One of her hands was still holding the strapon she had used on him the previous night. There was a permanent marker in her other hand and that reminded him of the shopping list scrawled on his back. It was morning, he had an errand to run, and he was short on time.

The neighbourhood had changed. Much of it still looked like the war zone that it had been. Many buildings had burned down or been blown apart, when they weren't simply pulled down. Every wall that was still standing was either stitched with bullet holes or spattered with old, rusty stains. There were few people, and no children.

It was a short walk to the main road and an even shorter wait for his ride. This was a bike rickshaw with a ponygirl up front, chained to the pedals and handlebars. Instead of a covered bench there was a row of bike seats. Each one sported a big, greasy dildo.

He walked around to the pony girl to show her his back. His destination was written there, and in any case her posture collar and blinders prevent her from turning her head or using her peripheral vision. He made eye contact and that's when he recognized her. She used to be rich and famous. Now she was just a working animal. The constant outdoor exercise had given her thick, powerful haunches and a deep, all-over tan. She coughed through her bit gag and he realized he'd been staring. He smiled, embarrassed, and made his way to the nearest bike seat, which he screw himself onto with a grunt. He folded his arms behind his back, kicked the rickshaw frame twice, and then they were off.

A breeze washes over him as he headed for the metro station. Naked and mounted on a dildo, he was on display to everyone he passed.

He tried not to look at the hole in the sky, but there isn't much else to look at. The city was nearly empty. Most of the people outside were naked thralls. A blonde woman was sweeping the street, her wrists manacled to her cleaning implements. Now and again she emptied her dustpan into something that was a bin on top and a cage on the bottom. It followed her around with the aid of wheels and its occupant, who was able to scoot along by sticking her arms out of the cage.

As humiliating as the ride was, he couldn't argue that it was faster than walking. The ex-celebrity had powerful legs and haunches and a magnificent set of lungs. He could barely hear her breathing over the sound of well-oiled machinery.

A shadow fell over him. He looked up to see a squid-thing the size of a blimp. The living ship disappeared behind a building, its tentacles swimming through the air. He was getting close to the station and there still weren't many people. But then, eight out of ten men had died in the invasion and half the remaining population had been sold off-planet.

The taxi was slowing down. He could feel it in his prostate.

Getting onto a train isn't too different from how it used to be. The gates now respond to chips in people's groins and the guards used sticks to pack slaves into their cars but otherwise it was much the same. He wave his crotch at the sensor, pushed through the turnstile, and knelt behind the yellow line. The train arrived and he stood to shuffle through the doors.

As before, there were four passenger cars, but one was reserved for freewomen and slaveowners. This was furnished with plush couches, deep carpets, and lots of elbow room. The three slave cars lacked benches, lights, or even airconditioning. Thralls were packed in cheek-to-cheek and ass-to-crotch, their arms chained to the ceiling.

He stepped through the doors and hooked his wrist-cuffs to a hanging chain. A motor pulled his hands up and then he walked on tiptoe into the compartment. He found himself sandwiched between a slender black woman tall enough to put her breasts in his face and a plump redhead who couldn't help but press her nipples and belly into him. A scratchy sensation down one leg reminded him that not every slaveboy was hairless from the neck down.

The doors closed and the train started moving. The air was suddenly warm and humid, but that was to be expected with three hundred people sweating and breathing in the same train carriage. The smell wasn't too bad, he thought. Everyone was young or youngish. Everyone had been forced to maintain good hygiene and look after their health and fitness until they were in the best shape of their lives. He wish it wasn't so crowded (there were six slaves per square meter) but at least nobody was hogging the seats. There were no seats.

He looked out the windows to distract himself. In the front car the only passengers were a mistress and her pet. She was lounging on one of the couches and he was kneeling on the carpet. She was still dressed for a party, and it must have been some party because her slave had fallen asleep between her legs.

The tracks took them through a turn and he couldn't help but see the portal. It hung there, a whole lot of nothingness. Gigantic tentacles hang from it like fingers on a hand. Squid-ships swam around the tentacles, constantly bringing people from offworld or taking them elsewhere in the empire. At this distance the ships look like a cloud of gnats.

There was a muffled scream and he turned. A slavegirl and slaveboy were pushing through the crowd, trying to get to each other. They were hampered by the complicated system of hoists that kept them chained securely and yet free to shuffle around. Eventually the two meet and it was a tearful reunion. They couldn't really talk because they both wore ring gags but he gathered that they used to be married before they were sold.

People cheered. They'd have clapped but their hands were tied. Seeing the couple nuzzle one another in the crowd, it reminded everyone that they used to be something else. Before the invasion. Before they were herded into reeducation camps. People were crying, their noses were running, but their hands were tied and they couldn't wipe their noses. It was a relief when the mood changed. The former husband and wife, unable to speak or even embrace, have started doing more than just lean into each other. They didn't know if they would ever meet again, so naturally the encounter had turned sexual. She was rubbing against him and pulling herself up so they could kiss through their gags. He was thrusting his hips but he was in chastity. They both were. They did what they could. The crowd helped. Another slaveboy supported the girl from behind so she could wrap her legs around her man. She ground her chastity piercings against him and chased his tongue with her own. She was moaning, but he didn't make a sound until another slavegirl lifted her leg and started stroking his balls with her foot.

People were shuffling around, slowly circulating around the carriage. They were looking for interested parties, for slaves with uncovered crotches. Two of them found each other and there was a squelching sound as they went for it. The atmosphere got hotter. Steamier. As it smelled more like sex, more slaves joined in. His feet slipped in something and more juices splashed on his leg. Somebody was a squirter. He snuck a glance at the married couple and saw their mouths locked together. The slavegirl who was fondling the man's balls had started pegging him with her big toe.

The redhead tapped him on the foot. He looked down and locked eyes with her. She gave him a shy smile and indicated that her pussy was an inch from his leg. He nodded and she start humping him. The tall black slave (he noticed that she was gagged) winked at him and offered a nipple. He bent his head forward to suck on it.

The station guards had to pull people off each other. They tried using their sticks but a lot of slaves were used to being flogged during sex. Many enjoyed it.

He made his way down to the parking lot, where a hovering squid was disgorging passengers. There was a rush of liquid each time a slave pushed through its ovipositor. Everyone had to spend a few minutes on the ground coughing up the breathable fluid. He preferred the train, which wasn't as fast but normally didn't get him quite so lubricated.

The guard inside the supermarket was wearing black plastic armour. It would be functional if it didn't leave her breasts and pussy exposed, but that wasn't the point. The point was to show that she was a free woman, and her hairy bush and unadorned nipples made that very clear. She smiled as he approached. She was shorter than he was (she could be Thai or Vietnamese) but she was also twirling a shock baton. There was never a question of who was in charge.

"Wait here," she told him as she summoned a cart girl. This was a slave who carried her cage wherever she went. It was like an iron maiden on wheels or a gibbet shaped like a dress. It was as if someone had taken a birdcage and moulded every bar and hoop to her upper body. There was an enclosure for her head and one for her torso. Her arms extended forward in their sleevelike prisons, with only the hands free to hold things. All this rigid metal fit her exactly. Her legs had more leeway, but they too were confined inside a skirt-like frame, which flared like a bell and glided on casters.

The slave hobbled toward them, at once naked and overdressed. A chain between her ankles forced her to make tiny steps. And even in heels, her feet barely touched the floor. The cage dress left little of her body to the imagination, except for her head, which was enclosed in red latex.

"She's deaf, dumb, and blind in that hood," the guard said. "We feed her directions through her earpiece and track her through the security cameras."

Someone had already taken a photo of the list on his back. The guard put a shopping cart into the slave's hands and the girl scooted away to fill his order.

"Now, come with me," the guard said.

She took him to her office and pushed him into a wall. It was a floor-length mirror. He could see her reflection as she spread his legs apart and cupped his balls. Then, with a flick of her wrist his chastity cage was in two pieces on the floor.

His eyes went wide. He thought only his owner could do that.

The freewoman was breathing in his ear. "Now listen here, spy. I'm going to give you something to pass on to your true masters. I'm going to have some fun with you too, but don't cum until I tell you."

The guard was a resistance member, but she was also a dominant woman and he was too well-trained to fight her. She took his hand, the one he had once masturbated with, and slowly guided it to his cock. It was been months since he touched it and the contact was like an electric shock. Still holding his wrist, she began using his hand to stroke him.

She pulled on his nipple rings and pinched the nipples themselves. She pressed her breasts into his back and ran a hand through her bush. Then she dragged her fingers over his mouth, smearing his face with acrid musk. She was stroking him, she was stroking and talking, he was straining to make out what she was saying. He looked at himself in the mirror. This was who he was now. He looked at the guard. This was the kind of woman he was made for. But he belonged to all women. He wanted to cum so badly.

"Cum for me," the guard said. She pressed her shock baton into his ass. "Cum for me, or there will be pain. Cum for me now and spray the mirror with your useless seed."

With a groan, he climaxed for the both of them, covering the mirror with a load he'd need to lick off.