Warning

NOTE: This story features dark and nasty themes of degradation, piss-play, and non-consensual hypnotic conditioning in a sci-fi dystopia. If that doesn't sound like something you want to read, well, you've been warned.

* * *

Huela's head spun as she stumbled awkwardly out of the coldsleep tube, gelatinous goop sliding off of her body, into the awful blast of an icy shower. Behind her, the empty shell chonked away down the line, replaced by an identical tube, occupied by a stranger's frozen face.

She hustled out to the lockers and retrieved her things, stepping into her most anonymous travel trousers.

She felt strange. Her first coldsleep experience had been dark and empty, but this time, her thoughts were swimming with half-remembered fragments. She'd woken up alone and disappointed from a sex dream before, but this time the feeling lingered in a way that even the antiseptic environment of the wake-up zone wasn't washing away. Her skin seemed somehow stretched tight, senses on alert.

Huela breathed deep.

She had made it. New planet, new identity cards, new job. She would be a farm machine tech, a step down in pay from her old post in the terraforming office, but she liked the sound of it. Solid, honorable, quiet.

It was still Company territory -- there was herdly anywhere else to go these days -- but it was a place she might be able to disappear for a while.

A window onto space showed one new star, larger than the others. If she watched long enough, she knew it would slowly grow into a sun.

She had a message, summoning her to Captain Verli's meeting room.

"Thank you," she said as she sat down across the table from him. He had probably saved her life. In theory, everyone had been guaranteed a spot on one of the Company's evacuation ships. But to the Company, she was not just any evacuee. She'd have laid even odds that they would simply have ejected her tube out the nearest airlock the moment they were in deep space.

"How were the accommodations?" grinned the captain, poking at a panel and glancing sideways at her. He was leering brazenly at her chest. It ought to bother her, but she brushed it aside.

"Fine," she said. "You wanted to see me?"

She'd hoped to spend the remaining hours of this trip hiding, until it was time to board the shuttle to her new settlement.

She couldn't fully trust this shady captain, even though he'd been recommended by one of her dissident friends. With most of her personal assets sitting abandoned and worthless on a dying planet, she hadn't been able to pay even Captain Verli's usual fare for interstellar transport, much less the extra smuggling fees -- but he'd said that as a friend of the underground, he sometimes did pro bono work.

Huela hadn't meant to become famous. She had only wanted to warn people about the possible catastrophe. At the terraforming office, she'd seen first-hand how the Company's razor-thin safety margins and lack of backup systems had created a risk of runaway atmospheric destabilization. Her warnings had been largely ignored at first, until they started coming true. By then, it was too late to do much other than evacuate the population.

By now, her old planet was an uninhabited husk, listed as Coming Soon in the Company planet directory.

The rapid re-emergence of the planet's poisonous natural habitat might have just been a regrettable disaster, but her videos had transmuted it into a juicy scandal. As the news grew more and more dire, she had seen her own face splashed across feeds from several sectors away.

Huela's friends in the underground had told her she was a hero -- that the outrage she had whipped up was the only thing that had shamed the Company into paying for a full evacuation of the colonists.

Oh, her former bosses, they hated her.

Captain Verli set his panel down on the table.

"Just wanted to make sure you came out of the bottle ok," he said. "You never know. The Company has eyes everywhere."

He stood up and walked around the table. A prickle went down her spine. She rose to face him, and was struck by a bizarre urge to drop to her knees.

What was wrong with her?

"Take off your shirt," he said.

This was not what pro bono work meant. She wanted to run. Instead, for some reason she couldn't understand, she found herself pulling the gray tank top over her head. In the rush to get out of the locker room, she hadn't bothered to put on a bra. He regarded her bare breasts thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded, lips curling.

"Lovely," he said, taking her nipple between his fingers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sparks flew behind her eyes.

She still wanted to run, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she wasn't sure why. She felt suddenly safe here. Safer than she had felt in a long time.

Something was very wrong. The tube. Had she been subjected to some sort of mental conditioning during coldsleep? She should feel horrified, but somehow it just didn't seem to matter.

"Turn around," he said. "Bend over and show me your cunt."

Huela didn't know why it felt so right and natural to slide her trousers down her hips and present her ass to him.

The door was right there. Out. Get out!

But that didn't make sense. Why would she leave, when this man was about to fuck her? The sense of disappointment, need, desire, that she had felt since waking up from a month-long wet dream was excruciating now.

His fingertips touched between her legs, teasing her, brushing lightly against her clit, and she was already so wet, and she wanted him with a fire that she hadn't felt in a long time.

He walked back around the table and sat down in his big padded captain's chair.

"Wait!" Huela said. She was still bent over, ass up. He hadn't told her to move.

"Yes?" he said, picking up his panel.

"Don't you want to fuck me?"

She sounded whiny in her own ears. Too desperate. She could feel a blush creeping across her face.

He was looking at his panel again.

"I have work to do, sweetheart, but I won't stop you if you want to suck my cock."

Relief flooded through her. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled under the conference room table, reaching for the tent in his trousers. She pressed her cheek against his hardness through the soft fabric, breathing in, and satisfaction bloomed in her belly.

Huela freed his cock and wrapepd her lips around it. As began to work her mouth up and down, drinking him in, he set the pad aside again and looked at her.

"Can't you go any deeper than that?"

Huela was already taking him as far as she ever had with any of her lovers, making obscene noises that rang hot and bright in her ears, letting slobber drip down her chin. But now she felt ashamed of herself for holding back when there was more she could have been doing to please him.

She went further, painfully far, pressing him down into her throat, past her defenses. Struggling, coughing, fighting to take him all the way. Every millimeter deeper filled her with pride, and sent shots of sweet arousal sizzling through her.

"I watched that viral whistleblower video you did," he said, leaning back and smiling down at her. "You looked very pretty with that self-righteous indignation in your eyes. You're even prettier gagging on my cock."

With a brush of his thumb, he wiped a tear from her cheek. Somewhere, deep down, she felt a spark of rage, but she couldn't remember exactlyswhat she had to be angry about.

Then his come was filling her throat, and his hands were in her hair, holding her close, her nose pressed against the pretty little curls around his dick, and she let all her thoughts fall away and simply luxuriated in the moment.

He released her, and she sagged gratefully to the floor at his feet, her hair pooling around her, drawing in gasps of ragged breath, unable to stifle a wide, victorious grin. He was breathing hard himself, and he whistled appreciatively.

"I'm sorry to have had to do this to you, sweetheart," Verli said. "But, well, the Company paid me enough to retire on. You know how it is."

She wasn't sure she did know how it was, but that was probably fine.

"Now, I really do really have to get back to work," he said, returning his panel again. It showed what looked like a series of bio-readouts blinking into higher activity as tubes dispensed their evacuees. "But you're welcome to rub one out before you go."

Huela didn't need to be told twice. Her fingers dove between her legs. Fuck, she needed this.

"Oh, and your shuttle is, uh number 3," he said, pitching his voice to carry over her cries of sweet release. "Have a safe trip."

* * *

Glancing nervously around the windswept fields, Lumai sidled into the side door to the big garage.

"Hey, bro," said Arlos, pulling him in with a wicked smile.

His friend punched him in the shoulder, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

In the wide-open gloom, her head and torso buried in the side panel of a dusty combine harvester, was the girl. Or at least, her ass, swaying occasionally as she worked, clad in simple red work trousers and chunky boots.

"You're sure that's her?" Lumai said.

"Yeah, yeah! C'mon."

They walked up to the side of the combine.

"I think I see it," the machine tech's voice echoed through steel housing. "There's a big rock caught in one of the camshafts. I can't understand how it could have got there."

"You've got a nice ass," Arlos said.

"What?" came the tech's voice, a little warily.

Behind them, the door cracked open again, and Lumai turned to see Rustin's big round face poking inside. Arlos waved the latecomer over impatiently.

"Are you sure sure?" Lumai hissed.

"We're going to touch you, okay?" Arlos called to her.

"Oh," she said, hesitantly. "Uh, ok, sure."

Arlos gave them a smug look. Rustin had his hand over his mouth, stifling a gleeful laugh.

Lumai felt something stir in his trousers.

Arlos laid his palm across the girl's ass. She didn't appear to react. Slowly, he moved his hand around so that his thumb was pressed between her legs, rubbing it along the crack of her ass and down her crotch.

Lumai watched the girl lean into his friend's touch like a cat, pushing her clit against his hand. A little moan of pleasure echoed from inside the machine.

Rustin loomed up alongside, reaching for her waistband. Lumai grabbed the other side of the waistband, and they pulled, tugging her pants down around her knees.

Arlos reached back between her legs, sliding a finger into her.

"How would you like to get a nice fat cock inside you, slut?" Arlos said.

"Hang on," came the voice. "Almost got it."

There was a clonk, as if a rock had been finally worked loose from where it was stuck.

"Okay!" she said, brightly.

Arlos already had his fly open, and Lumai watched his friend wrap his hands around the girl's hips and plunge straight into her dripping cunt.

"Dude, nice," said Rustin.

It was only a few seconds before Arlos shuddered to a stop with a theatrical groan. He and Rustin high-fived as he pulled out, leaving a trail of come dripping down the girl's leg.

"That's one," said Arlos, repeating the high-five with Lumai. "We're just getting warmed up."

Lumai thought Arlos sounded like he was trying to cover for his lack of stamina, but he decided not to razz the guy about it. He had better things to do.

"Next time, we'll be taking it nice and slow," Arlos went on, "Eh, little slut?"

She didn't have time to respond before Rustin was inside her, pumping hard and fast, and then finally slow and uneven, sinking down until his forehead touched the side of the combine.

He heaved a heavy, contented sigh as he, too, pulled out.

"I just want to see if it really is the girl from..." said Lumai, searching on his hand-panel for the video he'd saved. "Let her out of there."

Rustin stepped back, and the girl extracted herself from the machine, standing up between the three of them.

As he glanced at her, a droplet of come fell down between her legs, plopping into the underwear still bunched around her knees.

She wore a white shirt, partly transparent with grease and sweat. Her face was flushed, short curls tumbling around her temples, lips parted slightly, eyes shining hungrily.

On the screen was another version of her, but this one was an even bigger mess.

She was in what looked like a spaceport bathroom, surrounded by graffiti-scrawled walls.

Come dripped from her face and chest. Makeup was running around her eyes. And a man was pissing into her open mouth. Yellow liquid danced on her tongue, bubbled between her teeth and down her chin. She looked dazed, and happy.

Beneath the video was a title:

Remember her? Former "activist" Huela Coutranh is now a cock-hungry, piss-soaked whore

In the dim garage, the real live Huela looked curiously at him. He turned his panel, showing her the video.

"Thank you, sir!" said the tiny Huela on the screen, having swallowed the last of the anonymous videographer's piss.

In front of him, life size, her face twisted in sudden shock and horror. She staggered back, trying to pull her trousers up.

"What...?" she stammered. "Ww-why am I...?"

"You dumbass," Arlos said to him. "Don't make it weird."

"Hey, hey," Rustin was saying to her. "Take it easy. We're just having some fun with you."

She looked confused, but the anger was bleeding from her expression, and she didn't turn to run as Lumai had expected her to.

"That's right," said Arlos, putting a hand on Lumai's shoulder. "You've at least got to fuck my idiot friend before you go. He hasn't had a turn yet."

"Oh, yeah," the girl said.

Lumai did deserve a turn, he thought. He was done with high school and he still hadn't ever gotten laid. He wasn't alone, of course, not on a new-settled planet with an 80:20 colonist sex ratio in the farm zones. It was supposed to keep the population from growing too fast, before the planet could support them, he'd been told. Whatever, it fucking sucked.

He wondered what a girl like this was doing here. He had heard that there were people who would agree to have themselves conditioned into total sluts to land a huge contract with some Company executive.

It was bullshit, seeing those rich assholes have everything while he dug in the dirt. But now, for whatever reason, Lumai had a chance to take something that was theirs. Take it, and ruin it.

He smiled. On his panel, he pressed record.

"I want you to lie down and piss yourself for me, slut," he said. "Can you do that?"

"Dude, gross!" laughed Rustin. Lumai shot him a look.

"Ok," she said, beginning to pull her trousers back down.

"No, keep your clothes on for now, slut. And you'll address me as sir."

"Yes, sir."

She lowered herself to the dusty ground. A few seconds later, a dark stain began to spread across the crotch of her pants. Already rock-hard, he felt a surge of excitement.

"Very good," he said. He handed his panel to Arlos, who continued to record, and knelt next to her, fishing a marker from his pocket. A little pool was spreading around her where it had seeped through her garments.

She looked red, and embarrassed, and oh so cute, like she had just fallen there and was completely helpless.

But not ruined enough. Not yet.

"You're a good little piss whore, aren't you?" he said.

"Yes, sir," she breathed.

On her forehead, he wrote: Piss whore

"Would you like a drink?"

"Yes! Please, sir!" she begged.

"Take your pants off now," he said. She wiggled the sodden red things down her hips to her ankles. She was still wearing her boots, and he cut in before she got sidetracked.

"Good. Stop."

Lumai wondered briefly what kind of activist she'd been, before. One of the anti-Company people, probably. A bunch of idiots. Everyone hated the Company, of course, but there was no getting rid of it. There had been a girl like her at school who had tried to organize a boycott. As if you could stop breathing.

Maybe this girl Huela had come to the same conclusion as him. It had said she was a former activist.

Lumai imagined the dickwad fat cat who must have spent a fortune on this girl and then lost her, now being forced to go home to his ugly wife and nasty, spoiled kids. He smirked.

He stood over her, and released his own stream. It was difficult to angle his erection down onto her mouth, so he stepped back slightly, and she opened wide, twisting slightly to make herself into a basin for him.

He tossed the marker down to her.

"You can fuck yourself with this, if you want," he said indulgently, sweeping his arc across her chest, wetting her hair, letting her catch some more of it in her mouth, then back down to her cunt, where she was now eagerly ramming the marker into her come-dripping hole.

She whimpered in pleasure as his piss raked against her clit, and he held it there.

Rustin joined in, evidently having decided that this wasn't too gross for him after all. A second golden rainbow struck her between the legs, and she cried out.

"Come for me, slut," he said. "Show the world what a good little piss whore you are."

She jerked, throwing her neck back, wet hair slithering through yellowed mud. Her blush somehow deepened, and the marker rolled away as she quivered to a halt.

"Think fast," said Arlos, and Lumai turned just in time to catch his hand-panel before it hit him in the face.

His friend darted off and came back unspooling a hose.

"Get up, slut," Arlos said, turning a nozzle. "You're a fucking wreck."

She stood, shakily, and yelped as cold water began to blast her.

"My freaky friend over here has been taking his sweet time," Arlos said "But I'm ready for round 2. You ever taken three cocks at once?"

"Y-yes, sir," said the girl. Her teeth were chattering, but her eyes brightened. "Yes, please!"

"Later," said Lumai, glaring at Arlos. He opened his arms to her. "Come here. Take off those rags, and let's get you warmed up."

Shucking her sodden shirt, glistening with water droplets, she nestled into him, pressing her belly against his erection.

He pulled her down to a nearby bench, and lowered himself onto her, fitting his cock into her. It felt so right.

"I think we might keep you," Lumai said.

Her eyes were wide, looking up at him. A little uncertain. But she smiled.