Date: Sun, 5 Nov 2023 05:42:02 +0000 From: Zarmba Subject: Strange Cargo pt 8 Please donate to Nifty archives! Barrrrhhhh!! The morning siren bellowed from the speakers on the slave-dormitory walls. It was time to get up and assemble for another day's toiling in the field. Jackson rolled, stretching and yawning from his embrace of Shay. They had had a great night of fucking after Jackson's defeat of his rival for Shay's pert twink ass. Shay was satisfied too. He had come to really love Jackson. Shay had always preferred guys. Back on Earth, before his capture and enslavement, Shay had had a boyfriend. He had been killed during the Grey One's slave raid on their enclave. Now he relished the embrace of the handsome young jock, Jackson. He positively dripped in thrilling anticipation when Jackson was near with his healthy langer, ready to proffer his boyhole to the 25year old. Some of the other twinks were free with their favours among the older dudes in the compound. Most of them weren't even gay. In fact, most of the dudes enslaved here weren't homo either. They just had to make do with whatever release they could get. If bussy was all that was on the menu, so be it. But Shay was fortunate. He was gay, and he loved Jackson. Jackson, previously a raging hetero, for his part was growing in his affection for Shay. The 20year old twink mightn't have the kind of shop-front fixtures Jackson really craved, but his ass was cute and tight. And his face was pretty enough. Barrhhh!!! The siren sounded again. The humans got to their feet. Some went for a piss or shit in the latrines, but swiftly all were lined up, ready for the alien Gharodite guards to enter and fix them into their coffle. They would then be lead to the washrooms where they would be well hosed down, medically examined, and even shaved of their facial hair in the same style as had been common on Earth (the Gharodites really were a weird lot with regards to their conservatism). "Dude, keep an eye on that Irish bastard today. He really wants my ass and he'll be looking for revenge" Shay whispered as he gave a parting kiss to his beloved Jackson. The two were assigned to different plots for fieldwork. Jackson and the other beefier guys did the more exacting work of ploughing and digging ditches. Shay and the twinks and the dudes over fifty were sent to tend to the crops. When they were ready, the Gharodite guards fastened the humans into the coffle lines. A neck collar and handcuffs bound one man back and front to another, and the metal band around their manhood was linked to the anal probe in the ass of the man in front. Thus securely shackled, they were lead out to the fields. As they trundled on, Jackson looked out and saw the other coffle-lines emerging from the various underground slave-pens on this Gharodite plantation. Long lines of naked human males, all similarly shackled, marched wearily to their day's work. He saw men of various ages and all skin tones. From late teens to about 50, black, white, brown, all colours, all slaves together. Here is where destiny had brought the once proud human species. He imagined them as they had been on Earth before the invasion. There, these men would have been office workers or execs wearing suits, or cops, or soldiers, or .... whatever... Now they were simply field hands, slaves, property of the superior alien race. Thwack!!! A stinging crack from the Gharodite overseers bullwhip to his bare ass-cheeks smacked Jackson from his daydream. Although the Gharodites favoured the anal device as an internal cattle-prod to corral the earthlings, they sometimes did resort to more traditional methods. "Move along there, human!". All the Gharodites evidently carried translation devices to allow them to communicate to their slaves, of whatever species. Jackson picked up the pace again. The soil of the Gharodite world was refined and easy enough on the bare human feet. The man in front of Jackson was, from the shade of his skin, a Latin American. Jackson watched his tight, tanned and hairy buns bounce with every step. The dude was about Jackson's age. A jock. Certainly not a twink. Jackson glanced down to the thin chain which linked his genitals to the probe up the latin dude's arse. He wondered, given all he had been through, if needs demanded it, could he imagine himself pumping that arse in front? Whereas twinks were an acceptable second best to pussy, a jock's or older man's hole was a distinctly unappealing prospect to him. He imagined it was the same with most of the guys. He had known of course, gays back home on Earth. From what he heard, it wasn't that different from how straight lads viewed things. A twink (or twunk) was a prize as sought after as a young buxom chick for guys outside of committed relationships. For single gays, after about the age of 30, most of a guy's attraction was considerably reduced. A forty year old butt, however in shape the owner might be, wasn't an appetising proposal. A gay dude past 35 was pretty much obliged to do all the work in chasing bussy, just as straight lads did with the girls. Was Jackson seriously beginning to think like a gay dude? Could he really actually be gay all along? Nah! He thought. It's just the demands of the situation. He liked Shay and all that. He was deeply fond of him. They had a passionate connection. Maybe he could say he loved him. But could he really be in love with him? Thwack! Another crack from the alien's bullwhip scored Jackson's arse. He was once again jolted back into full awareness. Nearly there. The fields lay just ahead. For a moment turning his head around to look at the man bound behind him, Jackson couldn't hold back a shiver of dread; The dude behind him, the dude who's man-meat was linked to the probe up Jackson's arse, the dude who all this time must have been watching Jackson's buns even as Jackson was with that latin dude in front was..... The Irishman....