by Mark Andrews
The castrated males were also objects of derision, being taunted as eunuchs as the men, women and children fondled their bodies every bit as obscenely as they did those of us girls.
Every day was as bad as the last and it didn’t seem to get any better with the repetition, day after day. I never ever came to grips with the hate on their faces for us foreigners, coupled with their delight in our shame and degradation as naked human ponies.
Fortunately, the increased rate of gestation meant that after three months, we were too big to be used effectively in that role and we were returned to the factory once more. Again I mourned the loss of Horse Cock but by now I found I could quite easily communicate with him even though we were separated by distance and that was some consolation.
Now my life went back into the factory mode, even to the inhuman feeding via the flexible pipes down my throat and the weekly vaginal inspections by Dr Yuen or one of his minions.
It wasn’t pleasant. The workload here was harder even than pulling the gigs or buses and of course I missed Horse Cock even if I could communicate with him, sort-of ... To add to my misery in the fortress, I had again to cope with Dr Yuen’s constant inspections of my body and the General was a regular visitor there, too. Oh, how I hated those two men! I don’t think the combined evils of Stalin, Hitler and Idi Amin could be as bad as those two, even individually. No-one, at least in my understanding of history, had ever treated human beings as they treated us. Nobody surely could?
Every time either of them appeared in my presence, my heart jumped into my mouth and for all my determination to do something - anything - to thwart their plans for their country and the world, I nevertheless gave that little bit more; strained every muscle in my body to its utmost so that I wouldn’t be singled out by the General for one of his little delights - punishing us; or by the doctor for one of his more extended and intrusive examinations.
I had noticed that the General sometimes ordered a girl out of her place and then she disappeared with him, followed by a couple of the guards. When she came back, some hours later, she invariably looked awful: haggard, drawn, exhausted, her eyes hollow ... I’m sure you get the picture. I had no idea what happened to those girls and I didn’t want to find out.
Alas, as the doctor had intimated at the very outset, my blond hair and blue eyes coupled with my athletic body drew people’s attention to me and I couldn’t escape the General entirely.
When he stopped beside me, his black eyes boring into mine and that little smile at the corners of his mouth, I knew I was for it. And so it proved. He gestured towards me and I was released from the treadmill on which I had been working and had to walk out of the huge room, followed by the guards.
We arrived at a room I hadn’t been into before - thank God, for when it was opened I found it to be a replica of an ancient torture chamber, complete with dingy stone walls, flickering sconces on them, and an array of instruments of torture that had my blood run cold.
There was a rack in the centre of the floor but there was also the thing called The Wheel. It was more like a small drum actually, suspended on its edge by an axle in a supporting frame. There were manacles at one point on its outer edges, and more fixed to the floor below it. I assumed the victim’s ankles were fixed to these and her wrists to the ones on the wheel. If it was then turned backwards, her back would be bent around the small wheel, almost to breaking point and at the same time, stretched horribly.
There was also a bed of nails - with the nails widely separated so as to be more effective; a set of pillories and stocks, a lighted brazier out of which could be seen bars that I assumed ended in branding irons, and on the wall, racks of whips, canes, paddles, pincers, etc, etc. I shuddered yet again as I contemplated this frightening scene for I well knew I was now going to delight the President with my pain.
Well, he could have it! I decided there and then that I would stage-manage my performance as best I could so he thought I was really suffering. I wouldn’t make it too obvious but as soon as it began to hurt, I would scream and twist and plead and make my act as realistic as I possibly could. In that way I hoped to avoid the worst excesses of his bizarre twisted sadism for above all he wanted our babies to turn into more of his automatons and I thought if I could feign a very realistic agony he might begin to worry that they were in some jeopardy and therefore order a relaxation of my pain.
It worked.
He had me put on the rack. I resisted, of course, pulling back against the guards who now had to drag me to the feared ancient instrument of torture. But they were much bigger and stronger than me and soon enough they had me up on its bed, forced my body down and quickly had the manacles on my wrists and ankles whereupon the master torturer, another huge but older man, naked to the waist and with muscles bulging all over his upper body, began to turn the massive spoke wheel that, through a system of creaking gears, operated the drum to which were attached the chains leading to my wrist manacles.
I was soon stretched taut and now felt the first stabs of pain in my shoulder and hip joints, not to mention those in my elbows and knees that were also under the same strain of course.
I moaned, softly at first but with growing volume and intensity as he turned the wheel a bit more and the pawl now clacked loudly over the ratchet that held the chains taut. Sun moved up to me then and his hands roved all over my now elongated body, delighting in the softness of my skin and the well-stretched muscles from my forearms to my thighs and leaving out nothing in between.
He also made merry with my sexual organs of course, delving in deep and teasing my clitoris to a full erection - and beyond. He wanted to see me squirm with the shame and ecstasy of an orgasm so I obliged him. At least while he was doing this, the torturer was not pulling on the huge wheel but I remembered to moan and groan at the same time as he slowly roused me to a very much unwanted climax.
And when I reached that point my moans were real for the climax made my muscles react and that added to the strain on my joints, exacerbating the pain considerably. I now screamed in a very real agony although my screams were worse than the pain merited, I have to admit.
It worked, anyway and he gestured to the torturer to release me. But it was only to have me deposited on the spiked bed - face down. Once more they manacled my extremities to the four corners and then the General armed himself with a switch and began lashing at my body - from my shoulders to my calves, up and down as I squirmed on the sharp spikes and of course lacerated my flesh in the process.
I screamed some more - a lot more actually, and after an hour or so of this, I was released - but only to be fixed to the wheel. They bent me back into a taut backwards curve so tight I thought they would indeed break my spine but they didn’t and while the President felt and fondled my taut belly and breasts in this position for a few minutes, after which he had apparently had enough and I was taken back to my position on the treadmill.
I was wise enough to pretend to an inability to step up on it, allowing my body to hang from the bar and then fall off and eventually they relented and let me sleep off the worst of the tortures.
Chapter 6
By the time I dropped my second ‘litter’ of the tiny automatons, I had been there over a year and I was now a much changed person from the girl who had been kidnapped on that lonely road.
For a start, I was now a woman in the truest sense of that word. I had (very unwillingly) carried two sets of the weird beings that were going to be used to dominate the world. But it was more than that.
I had been kidnapped, stripped naked, trussed like a turkey, transported in those states and in terrible cold. I had been depilated naked of all my natural body hair, my head shaved (except for the pony tail which was now quite long), horribly examined by man and machine, publicly raped and fertilised by the huge Korean males and fed by pipes that went right down my gullet with a mash laced with hormones that accelerated th
e foetal growth and made me as horny as hell.
Then I had been used as a personal ponygirl by the President and his lieutenants, and more latterly, as a public transport pony.
Oh yes, I was changed all right, but I don’t think it was for the worse. Somehow my mind had managed to cope with such ravages and rise above the degradation and humiliations, even though they really were awful - and my body had responded equally (or perhaps even better). I was now fitter than I could ever have been under my own training regime: stronger, faster, with an enormous endurance and with a real delight in working it ever harder.
Sounds odd? It sure does, but at least physically, I felt wonderful. Then there was the sex thing? Yes, in my lucid moments I mourned my loss of virginity but then I realised I had been a lone voice in the wilderness in that regard. Not a single one of my girlfriends was a virgin and they all looked at me rather oddly when the subject came up and I said I still was, so I soon got over that as well.
By now though, I was into the minds of the President and his partner in crime, Dr Yuen. I had quickly realised that one of the reasons to move us out into the public arena was the sheer size of our numbers and that the factory simply couldn’t accommodate us all at once.
But of course it was more than that, too. The general’s hatred of foreigners was almost paranoiac in its intensity. I don’t think I have ever heard of another dictator in the world that was as mindset on a thing as he was on this and I think it certainly coloured his attitude to everything else. For example, when he realised the factory wasn’t going to be big enough to accommodate all of us breeding sows as well as his growing army of automatons, he could simply have expanded it. Instead, he moved those of us in the early stages of our pregnancies out into the public arena to show us off as examples of hated foreigners to his people.
But I think I also realised that he wouldn’t be content with just that, successful and all as it had been. Indeed, it was so successful the people were now clamouring for more and more of the public buses pulled by us foreign slave girls and boys. He accommodated them by re-instituting his kidnapping programme and importing more girls to carry the litters of automatons and in between times, to trot around the city, hauling the flat top buses from place to place, now even extending out into the inner suburbs.
General Sun needed more however. More humiliation for us, that is. And once I had dropped my second litter, I was earmarked for this new shame.
I’ll bet you can’t guess what it was. Not in a thousand years!
It was a zoo - and we were going to be the inmates - the caged animals.
It seemed they had this zoo in the city, long abandoned as being far too small to accommodate anything but a few exhibits, and the President had ordered that it be cleaned up and prepared for new animals - us. But we were going to be made to mimic only one kind of beast - monkeys: chimpanzees, to be precise.
But there was more. The President, no doubt advised by Dr Yuen, had decided that we could breed, carry our multiple-birth progeny and even deliver it in those cages while the public could pay to come and watch - and even bring their children to see the hated foreigners brought down to the status of zoo animals.
If I had thought being mated in the fertilising room in front of dozens of the President’s sycophants had been bad, this was infinitely worse and I can tell you it sorely tried my ability to cope and still keep my reason.
I was lucky in one thing, however. They allocated both Jenny and Alicia to my cage and, joy of joys, Horse Cock turned up too after a few days so at least the people I most loved and/or liked in that awful place were with me and at last, at night, when all the people had gone home we could snuggle up together and I could sleep with him - and even better still, talk to him.
More about that soon, in the meantime let me detail the first days of our trials in that horrible zoo.
To set the tone for our future lives, they transported us there in a way that exposed us even more shamefully than when we had been forced to run around the city as ponies. It was up on the top of a semi-trailer that had four overhead rails that ran lengthwise along the tray-top trailer. I was unfortunate enough to be on the rightmost one and so was closest to the kerb (remember they drive on the right side of the road in that place). Each of us was cuffed with more of their horrible thumb cuffs except that these ones were designed to hook onto the dozens of sets of little rollers than ran on the rails high above our heads.
We walked up the ramp at the rear of the trailer in four lines and then stepped up onto boxes that had been set at the very rear. They then prodded us into raising our arms above our heads so they could hook the cuffs to the roller. They then simply pushed us forward off the box so we now dangled by our thumbs while a guard pushed us forward until we bumped against the girl immediately ahead of us.
This was happening to the four lines at once and in this way we were speedily secured and then a locking roller was fixed in place behind the last girl on each rail so we couldn’t roll to the rear and fall off.
The truck took off and as it accelerated and slowed down, or went around corners, our still naked bodies swayed back and forth and sideways. We didn’t even have a toehold on the floor beneath and so each one of us - and there were about a hundred in that first batch - swayed in perfect unison with the truck’s motion.
It was horrible - at least for us. No doubt everyone has read of or seen cartoon drawings of prisoners hung up by their thumbs? Believe me, it is as painful as the cartoons portray - and then some. The pain starts in your thumbs, is added to by wrist strain, then elbow and shoulder pain complete the ensemble. As the truck brakes and speed up or you go around a corner that dull nagging pain is made much worse and a number of us moaned and even screamed as a particular nerve was more affected than others. I imagine the public however, thought it wonderful to watch as the four rows of naked female slaves swayed this way and that...
But at last I could talk. Right in front of me was Jenny and behind me Alicia and I was now able, after over twelve months being with them without being able to say a word to them, to say hello and to commiserate with them in our misfortune. Believe me, the relief in being able to do such a small thing was wonderful...
The people below us in the streets stared up at us with the hate we had come to expect very evident on their faces, but with that hatred there was now also triumph for it had apparently been widely touted in the papers what was going to happen to many of us in the fortress.
So far of course, the General had not informed his people what was really happening inside that huge concrete pile and he still wouldn’t. What he did say was that he had now provided, for the entertainment of the public, a means to come and see the hated foreign devils in their proper state - as animals to be laughed at and reviled, kept permanently in cages and treated as chimpanzees were in a real zoo.
To us it was indeed a real zoo. We were very much treated as animals and of course were not allowed to talk during the day but had to grunt and squeal like real chimps and to prance around, make faces, climb the dead tree branches set up in each cage and generally behave as monkeys.
We were told, in no uncertain terms, that we would be watched and that punishment - public corporal punishment would await any of us who disobeyed the rules of the zoo. We believed them. We had already had more than a year under their regime and we knew damned well they were quite capable of inflicting terrible physical punishments on us when we displeased them. We were therefore well conditioned to obey and we did.
From that very first day all of us in our cage jumped around like monkeys, climbed the dead tree branches, swung from them and otherwise behaved as apes, making the right hooting noises and squeals while the men, women and children stood around the four sides of the cage and stared in at us, all wide-eyed at first but then pleased at our degradation and humiliation.
Parents pointed us out to children, telling the
m we were hated foreign devils, representatives of nations that would conquer and enslave them if given half the chance. At that time Horse Cock had not joined us but at least I had Jenny and Alicia for company and that first night we snuggled up together in the straw that was our bedding and we talked endlessly about our lives, both former and present. But then, come morning, we had to resume our roles as monkeys and swing around, nuzzle each others’ noses, feed from the pile of raw vegetables thrown in at us once a day and generally behave as we had the first day.
Worst I think was the times when we had to relieve ourselves. We were given no privacy, of course - hell, they delighted in seeing us shamed and what better way than to force us to urinate and defecate in front of them all.
As I said, the cage was free standing, that is, it had paths all the way around it. There was therefore no back or front. On one of the sides however, about two feet in from the iron bars, a spoon drain ran right across the floor of the cage. It, by the way, was about twenty feet square and the same in height and there were six of us girls incarcerated in it. But to return to the drain, it had a tap at one end and when turned on, this caused water to run down the drain to the gully trap at the other end. And yes, this was our toilet! To urinate, we had to squat over it and let go, while dozens of the Koreans stood around and watched and tittered at our discomfort.
It was no different with the other job, either. I and each of the other girls had to straddle the drain, excrete our wastes and then use our hands, dipped into the water now running in the drain to clean our bottoms, all in full view of these people who always crowded around when one of us had to do the job.
Naturally, we tried to keep it until after dark when the zoo was closed but the human body being what it is, that wasn’t always possible and when I had to do either job during the day I felt a wash of intense shame envelop me totally.
