Choosing Slavery

In the years after interstellar travel was established in 2103, several suitable planets were discovered for colonization. Most were very harsh environments, but one in particular stood out. This planet was colonized by an especially hardy set of people, but in order to get sufficient population and work force, the practice of exiling certain undesirables was instituted. Not unlike the practice of deporting criminals from England to Australia during the early 1800s, except these deportees weren't just prisoners or indentured servants-- they were considered owned slaves with few or no human rights. This planet became known as The Penal Colony.

Amanda had no choice, not really. Her heart was pounding and hands shaking as she entered the Central Justice Center.

Never had she thought that she would end up becoming a slave. That was something that happened to the next girl. The one who got caught in some capital offense, or who was dirt poor and never paid her bills. Or the one who became the repeat offender prostitute.

Amanda stood outside the Justice Center and looked around her at the street with bustling people and traffic. Once she stepped through that door, it would be the last time she'd see the city. She wouldn't be coming back out. She was on the way down the rabbit hole, leaving this world behind and entering a black hole of slavery.

She reached out and pulled the door open with her shaking hand.

Amanda had simply embezzled money from her employer. Yes, it was nearly a million, but that wasn't as much as it had been, because of inflation a million was barely anything. But she'd been found guilty and the judge had sentenced her to 21 years in a Level 2 Prison facility. 

The alternative? Sign your life away as a slave for seven years. Seven years against 21 years. Was that a choice? The statistics were troublesome-- roughly 15% of prisoners at the Penal Colony didn't return after five years. The rate went up as time went on. Death was a major reason why, slaves died at an unusual rate. They also tended to commit additional offenses while enslaved and were sentenced to longer terms, sometimes becoming permanent slaves, like the capital offenders.

Her shoes echoed on the polished stone floor as she walked forward and announced her name to the receptionist. The receptionist looked her up and said, "First floor, down the hall, through the doors labeled COLONY INTAKE."

And that was it. The receptionist knew, of course. Amanda was going to sign her life away and be transported to an off-planet Penal Colony as a slave. Giving all her rights away and becoming owned property on a planet from which there was no escape, and she'd be no better than a dog. In fact, a dog would probably have more rights.

Amanda walked down the hall. She gathered herself for a moment to wipe tears away. She wouldn't allow them to see it get to her. She entered through the door, which swung closed behind her and clicked and snapped with finality; she realized it had locked. It was a one way door. She was committed now. The door was locked to prevent people from running.

"Miss Walker? This way," an armed guard guided her to a plain room with several tables. She sat where she was told. She already felt the oppression of throwing away her free will, being told where to go, where to sit, and not really having a choice about it.

 There was a simple contract on the table with her name on it. Just behind her was another woman, reading a similar contract, crying quietly. At least Amanda wasn't alone. Amanda would refuse to cry.

Amanda looked down at the contract and scanned it. She'd seen it before, of course, but this time it was for real. She was putting her name down. Signing her rights and life away. Seven years. She'd be 32 when she was returned to Earth, young enough to start again. They even offered a bit of money to those returning to Earth from the Penal Colony, as most people coming back had absolutely nothing. Not even the clothes they were wearing when they entered the system.

"Sign the form," grunted one of the five officers in the room. Five guards. For two women-- no, three, another poor soul had just entered and been ushered to a seat.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Amanda said in a tired voice.

"Course you do. Well. Maybe not. Girls come in here don't ever really have much of a choice." The officer said with disinterest.

The girl behind Amanda let out a small yelp of surprise. She had signed, and two officers had immediately grabbed each of her arms, lifting her and guiding her out through another door on the far side of the room.

The new girl was reading the document over. Amanda felt like she was the experienced one; she'd been there a few minutes, this girl was still brand new.

Sighing again, Amanda signed the document. Two seconds later two hands grabbed her arms and roughly lifted her up from her chair, pulling her out of the room. The poor new girl looked at this and gasped. 

Amanda was guided down the hall, which unlike the rest of the building appeared to be constructed of solid metal plating. These guys did not screw around. Once you signed, there was no escape. Period.

She was shoved into a room that was square, had metal walls, and was filled with other women; it appeared they ran from 18 years old up to late thirties, but no older. Everyone looked miserable. Some were scared, others resigned. A few looked angry or defiant. Amanda didn't know how to feel.

Amanda was now a slave, in a room with other slaves. She had no freedom, no rights, and had no idea what exactly would happen to her.

About a minute later, the pretty red haired girl just behind Amanda was shoved into the room. She was gasping, but not crying. She looked around and attempted a joke.

"My fellow slaves, I guess?" No one laughed. "My name is Therese."

No one really felt like responding. Were they even allowed names? Was there to be some sense of camaraderie in becoming a slave with others? It felt wrong, but a few others offered their names.

One woman who had been off to the side said, "What's the point? They don't allow names in the colony. We won't be in the same place. There's no point."

Another younger girl said mournfully, "Life is over."

"Oh, I don't know. I think you have to make the best of whatever--" said a woman who was about 35, one of the older ones. She was interrupted when two additional men with weapons came into the room.

"Undress." Barked one of them.

"What?" Said Therese.

"Strip. Undress, take your clothes off. Jewelry, shoes, everything. Absolutely everything. No contact lenses, earrings, tampons, nothing. Strip."

One of the girls began to hesitantly undo buttons.

Another joined her.

"I will say this once," said the officer. "You no longer have any rights and you have one job-- to be as obedient as possible, no matter what the order. If you hesitate, there will be consequences. This is your last and only warning. Now, STRIP. Dump everything in the middle of the floor."

The women began stripping as the male guards watched carefully. 

"Faster," the officer called out.

One girl turned and said, "We are going as fast--"

There was a snapping noise and a small flash of light. The girl jerked and choked and fell flat on her face, convulsing for a moment and then was still. The officer held a small stick that had been used to shock the hell out of the unfortunate woman.

"She will recover in a minute. The rest of you keep going!" the guard barked.

Everyone began stripping a lot faster then. Clothes came off in record time. After about a minute, the girl on the floor began moaning and tried to get up, fell back on the floor, was kicked by a guard and slowly got up. She held her side as if it were in pain but finished stripping.

Once everyone was naked a guard checked every person for any remnants. One of the younger girls had a retainer in her mouth which was ripped out and thrown in the heap. Another had diamond studs which were also ripped off (causing a scream and some bleeding) and dumped in the heap. One girl had kept her panties on-- they were cut off in one stroke by a knife. 

Each of the girls was checked for items shoved up their vaginas, the guards moved from one girl to the next shoving their fingers up inside, ramming them up as far as they would go. One girl had a tampon removed that was thrown on the heap of clothes. Every woman in there gasped and grunted as they were probed, a few cried as they spread their legs for this indignity.

"Come." Barked another guard. A door was opened and the girls were herded down a hall (metal walls and floor, of course, the metal floor felt cold on Amanda's feet) and into another room.

They joined a number of other stripped, naked women in this room, which was apparently a holding room of some sort. They were all left there and locked inside. 

Every woman was reacting differently. Some were trying to hide their nakedness by covering their crotch and breasts with their arms. Others were storming back and forth, angry, swearing.

"What do we do now?" Grumbled one of them. "This is stupid."

"It's inhuman," said another.

"It's what you signed up for," said the dark haired girl that had just preceded Amanda. She went over to Amanda and introduced herself. "I am Elena. You are Amanda? We might as well stick together, for whatever it is worth."

"Me too," said Therese, joining them. "I dunno if it is going to help, but it can't hurt to have a friend in this."

"It won't help at all, we are going to die, but not before being tortured and killed!" barked another woman.

"OK, I don't want to make light, but I don't think we will be killed."

"Speak for yourself," the woman said. She turned and showed a tattoo on her shoulder blade. "See that? You know what that means?"

The tattoo was a string of numbers that started with the letters CJCC.

"Capital crime. My life is forfeit. I was scheduled for execution. Got sent here instead, but I am realizing I probably should have just taken the hanging they were offering."

"Oh. I... I'm sorry," Therese said. "But... you do get to live for a while longer."

"Not sure this is living."

The women waited in the room, gathering more sad and tense. Some women were pacing, unable to keep their emotions in check. After an hour or more an argument broke out between two women, with some pushing and shoving. A couple of other girls pulled them apart.

"Let's not turn on ourselves! We are not the enemy, they are!"

Finally, some girls sat or lay down on the floor, which was very cold. They had no idea how long they would wait here. 

Two hours later, the door was unlocked with a hissing clank and several armed guards entered.

"You will be called one at a time for processing. You will present yourself when you are called. Any disobedience or delay will be treated with harshly. First name. Cir... Circ..."

"Circe Secundom," said a woman who stepped forward. 

"Thank god we don't have to use their names after this," growled one of the guards who grabbed the woman and dragged her off. The door shut with a clang.

Circe was dragged off down the hall two rooms and brought into a room with what looked like a medical tech, though he was armed and wearing a uniform. The two guards held her in place tightly.

"Don't make us hit you on the head," one warned. Circe believed them. She stood still. 

The medical tech took a needle and rammed it into her neck. She yelped and jerked, which made it hurt more. Blood trickled down her neck, but apparently the procedure was done. The tech had removed something from her neck; tissue or blood or both, which he inserted into a machine which printed a label that he handed to the guards.

They yanked Circe into the next room, where more guards were waiting.

As soon as Circe was done another woman was obtained from the holding cell and moved efficiently to the blood extraction room. They were acquiring medical and DNA information about each new slave with this process; the DNA would be tied to a serial number that was given to each slave as they moved to the next room.

The next woman was moved into the room (with no resistance) where she also faced the needle in the neck. 

The process took about two minutes per woman, and the holding cell was emptying rapidly. If a slave was resistant, they were hit over the head and the stunned slave would simply have her tissue sample extracted and moved on anyway.

The next stage of processing was the tattoo. The serial number assigned to the DNA sample was automatically scanned and then permanently imprinted on the slave with a tattoo gun that worked like a scanner, printing entire letters and numbers on the slave's shoulder blade quickly, but painfully.

Every slave tattooed using this method cried out, and struggled. The guards knew to hold on tight.

This was a painful process and the guards knew to hold the slave tightly, as they inevitably struggled. Therese screamed when she received the tattoo, struggling.

Amanda was in the hallway, moving down to the first room to give her tissue sample when Therese screamed. Amanda panicked, "What is that? Are we being tortured? I can't do this, I can't do this! Let me out, I will serve my sentence!"

Amanda struggled in the guard's hands. They held her tight, and one guard tried hitting her over the head but missed. Amanda slipped out of one of their grasp and jerked away. She tried to run, but one of the guards still had hold of one arm.

Seconds later a shot rang out. Amanda's head exploded, jerking sideways as the bullet penetrated the side of her head and exited out the other side of her head, blowing a mist of blood and brain matter over the metal wall. Her naked body fell to the ground hard, with the thump and she lay still there.

The guards simply moved to the holding cell and got the next woman, a woman named Suzanne, leading her past the body of Amanda, which was laying on the floor of the corridor, blood rapidly pooling underneath her. They had to step over Amanda's naked legs as they went down the hall.

The slaves had been introduced to just how deadly serious their situation was. Amanda had not even made it through processing and to the interstellar slave transport.

There was a lot more crying and a lot less protesting after that. All the slaves were cooperative with all stages of the process, even the unpleasant ones to come.

The next stage of the process was the enema.

The first woman going through the chain of the process was brought to an austere metal walled room with a single metal table. Hanging from a pole nearby was an extremely large enema bag. 

"Wait, what--" Circe, the first woman, said in shock. It was obvious what this thing was, with the tube an nozzle (inflatable). But there was no way she'd be able to take that much liquid. And it wasn't normal water, it was some sort of brown gunk and--

She was unceremoniously dumped on the gurney, her legs forced wide apart, and a greased nozze rammed up her anus. She gasped and grunted, but the nozzle was barely in before the liquid began to flow.

"Holy crap!" she swore as she felt the liquid filling her bowels, higher and higher.

In a room nearby Therese was having the same experienced. She struggled slightly, but remembered the lifeless form of Amanda just outside and decided to cooperate. She spread her legs and pushed her sphincter to make it easier for the nozzle to insert. The liquid flowed quickly.

Something about the liquid brought on cramping, almost immediately. She groaned and pulled her knees up, then rolled to her side to let the liquid flow into her more easily.

"Oh, fuck.. fuck fuck fuck... fuck..." she groaned and gasped as the liquid flowed and filled her. She looked down and saw her stomach distending, becoming larger. She was beginning to look pregnant.

There were multiple enema rooms because this stage of the preparation process took longer. Each woman spent ten minutes filling their bowels with the enema sludge. During the last stages the guard would squeeze the bag to make sure every bit of it had gone into the woman's abdomen.

The process was painful, and caused vomiting with some of the women. They puked over themselves because of the pain and nausea from such a large enema.

"Why? Why do we need these, why?" Asked one of the women. Suzanne the woman who had stepped over Amanda's body in the hall."

"Shut up," said the guard.

There were a total of five enema rooms, these connected to enema relief rooms. The relief rooms were bare and simply had a toilet in them. Once completely filled, the slave was guided to the relief room and told to empty themselves.

The guard stayed and observed this process.

Once the girls rose from the table and waddled into the toilet room, the full size of the enema became obvious. Their stomachs were distended painfully, as if pregnant. They rushed to the toilet and sat, though in many cases it took a minute or two for them to fully relax their sphincters and let the liquid rush out.

The smell was awful.

It was both the smell of the feces being flushed from the slave's system, and a pungent odor coming from the enema liquid itself. The guards in the toilet rooms made disparaging remarks, criticizing the slaves for being so disgusting.

"Oh god, you are the worst smelling slave ever. Did you never take care of yourself?"

"Smells like a dead cow in here. Gross. What have you been eating, anyway, road kill?"

"You are the most disgusting subhuman I've ever encountered."

"Is that a baby you are carrying or a piece of shit? Never mind-- doesn't matter."

The slaves themselves found their own smell almost unbearable, but couldn't escape it. They had to get every drop of the fluid out of themselves, as it carried chunks and lumps of feces with it. The toilets flushed again and again, as the distended abdomens of the slaves slowly contracted.

It took fifteen or twenty minutes to complete the emptying process, and in spite of having extra toilet rooms it meant that some slaves with distended enema belies had to wait for the slave in front of them, holding in the massive enema as best they could. 

Finally, the slave women were able to empty themselves completely and move on. To the next stage of their intake processing.