Summary: Slave SV198742 endures his first day as a labor slave for the Texas Road Work Commission.
Please donate to keep Nifty up and running. https://donate.nifty.org/
It was difficult to sleep. The droning voice in my head was impossible to tune out. The tube up my ass pumped fluid into me every few hours. Even simple itches were difficult to endure, my paralyzed state left me feeling them with no way to address them.
Finally, the voice in my head ceased speaking. I felt the tube slide out of my ass, followed by a plug being inserted. It was large, but not painful.
Gradually my vision returned. For the first time I noticed that the room was full of other slaves. They must have returned after I was secured to the table. I felt the control modules on my wrists, ankles, and neck detach from the table. The voice instructed me to get off the table, and stand on one of the unoccupied sets of footprints painted on the floor across the room. I was able to move at last! I reflexively stretched my arms and legs. Immediately I felt the control modules vibrate, and then I was punished with a minute of intense pain. As soon as it ended the voice repeated its instruction and I hurried off the table to one of the sets of empty footprints on the floor.
I trembled a bit due to the punishment I received. The other slaves stood straight and stared blankly ahead of them. For the first time I noticed that I could see the slaves closest to me pretty clearly, but the slaves just a few rows ahead of me appeared blurry. The blurriness felt artificial. The control module must have been modifying how far I could see. I figured it had to have that ability if it could simply turn off my vision.
I watched as other slaves move methodically down the line, placing clothing on the floor in front of each of us. When the clothing was set before me, the voice from the control module instructed me to dress. I quickly reached down and grabbed the orange jumpsuit with attached boots, gloves, and a hood featuring mesh holes for the eyes. Hurriedly, I slipped into it, only to realize moments later that I had put it on backwards--the boots were facing the wrong direction. It dawned on me that the suit must be designed to be entered from the back.
My mistake cost me precious time, triggering a swift response from my control module. Punishment coursed through me. Once the punishment subsided, I corrected my error and hastily donned the suit the proper way. Moments later, I felt the zipper close behind me as more slaves moved down the line, systematically zipping up each of us as we dressed.
The suit was tight, but not difficult to move in. The eye holes restricted my peripheral vision. I felt fluid roll down my leg, and then I realized, I would be soaked with urine by the end of the day. I would have no way to remove the suit until I was assisted out of the suit by another slave. The plug must be to ensure I didn't shit myself. I hoped the frequent pumpings of fluid into my ass overnight were sufficient to spare me from needing to go before I returned to the chair.
I saw some movement to my left, slaves were marching forward to an open set of steel double doors. It was strange to see them move silently. I wondered if the control module would ever allow my hearing to return. Once the row to my left passed the first slave in my row the voice instructed me to follow the person in front of me to the transport trucks, to board, and find an empty seat.
I marched through large metal doors appearing outside in the predawn silence. The sky was still draped in darkness, with only the faintest hint of light on the horizon. We walked towards waiting trucks parked just outside, their exhaust showing they were already running. I shuffled in my row until I reached the waiting truck. The jumpsuit felt strange completely covering my body. Height and weight were the only things that distinguished me from my fellow slaves.
As we climbed into the back of the trucks I looked for guards, none were visible. I struggled to remember if I saw guards when I drove past slave work gangs on the side of the road. I figured the autonomy of the control modules probably reduced the number of guards needed. I sat in the next empty seat, staring at the orange hooded head of the slave in front of me.
Upon arrival at the worksite, the trucks came to a halt with a jolt. Once the row in front of me emptied, the control module instructed me to exit the truck and follow the guard's instructions. Only the guards' harsh voices cut through the silence. A slight delay in their mouth movements betrayed that everything I heard was filtered through my control module. They barked orders as we lined up to receive our tools. I looked around at the slaves around me, each hidden in their suit, no distinguishing characteristics.
The task ahead was daunting: breaking rocks and laying them to repair the road. The air was cool, but the anticipation of the sun's relentless heat hung heavy in the pre-dawn stillness. I braced myself as I picked up my pickaxe, steeling myself for the labor ahead.
Hours passed slowly as the sky gradually lightened. I stole glances at the other slaves, occasionally one would drop to the ground, obviously being punished for some infraction. Afterwards, each punished slave would quickly get up and resume working.
As the first rays of sunlight began to pierce through the darkness, we were given a brief moment of respite. My muscles were already sore from the morning's work. The guards barely watched us, knowing any infractions would be immediately punished with no need of their involvement.
Throughout the day, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, I fell into a rhythm. The repetitive motion of breaking rocks became a focus, a way to endure the harsh reality of slavery. I wondered about the other slaves around me, if any were also here due to their own stupidity.
As the sun reached its peak, marking the end of our first day of labor, I felt a strange mix of exhaustion and despair. I knew this was just the beginning of a long road ahead. The control module instructed me to return my pickaxe and return to an empty seat on the truck.
When we reached the slave barracks, another slave helped me out of my suit and tossed it into a large bin on wheels. Covered in salt from sweat and reeking of urine, each of us underwent a thorough hosing and scrubbing before being directed through the metal doors to climb onto empty beds. Inside, I noticed seven new slaves already lying down, some crying and staring blankly ahead, unaware of our return from the day's labor.
I settled onto the nearest empty bed, where a fellow prisoner connected my modules. Almost instantly, paralysis set in, plunging me into darkness. The ass plug was removed, and both the ass tube and feeding tube were inserted anew. The voice from the control module resumed its monologue, filling my mind with its droning list of rules and directives.
It was the end of my first day, and the beginning of a grim existence. Exhaustion offered some solace; at least it ensured I would sleep, though I had little reason to believe tomorrow would be any different from today.