It took a long time before anyone bothered with him. Hours maybe. It was hard to tell time here. #143 was getting hungry. The man who entered looked to be a prison guard in full uniform. Much better for the slight chill.
“Prisoner number 143,” the man asked.
“Yes sir,” #143 answered hesitantly. “Um, sir. I don't know who I am.”
“Asking questions without permission will earn you a lashing, prisoner,” the guard said strictly. “I'll let it slide this once. Mostly because I can't be bothered. Not because of any mercy. We all know don't deserve mercy.” The man looked down at a clip board.
“Ah. Say's here you were given the full deal. Identity wipe and all. No wonder I don't have any other records of you. They're all destroyed. All I have is your number and sentence. Oh boy, you're going to be here a while. I don't know who you were. Now no one does. It's part of your dishonorable punishment. Stripped of everything that makes you you. Even your features have been altered. Don't know why the computer gave you blue hair. Maybe random. Maybe to make you stick out more. Less able to hide. You've been given a weak form to not cause trouble and an adorable appearance. That last past wasn't for you but to give us guards some fun as your caretakers.” #143 didn't like the sound of that.
“Now, it's off to the dining hall with you first.” The guard handcuffed #143's hands behind his back and marched him out into the corridor. Not that the guard even remotely needed to restrain him. The guard, though not a particularly large man was still way out of #143's petite abilities to fight. Cold concrete walls surrounded them as they traversed the hard floor with one par of thick leather boots and one par delicate soft feet.
The dining hall was full of prisoners. Every single one of them bigger and tougher than #143. And not least, every single one of them had been given a full uniform. Long sleeved. Full pants. Dark brown, same as #143 thin loincloth. Their numbers marked on their chests. They geared and cat called from their tables at the sight of the skinny half naked blue haired boy being lead in handcuffs down the middle of the hall.
Why was he singled out so much!? What had be possibly have done to deserve this? There must have been a mistrial or something. Irrelevant now. Whoever that was apparently didn't exist anymore and all that was left was #143, a complete stranger, to take the punishment. At least the food the other prisoners were eating looked good. #143 could use a good solid meal. He literally couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything.
However, instead of the canteen, #143 was lead to an odd protuberance lower down in the wall. It looked like a large purple dildo with rills along the top and bottom of it. At it's bace, almost up against the wall was a red button.
#143 was confused. But before he could ask permission to ask what this was, the guard fitted him with a special gag that forced him to gape and clamped down on his tongue so it was forces to stick out and pant like a dog. He was shoved down onto his knees facing the dildo. It looked very big up close.
“This is how you will be fed from now on. Take that whole thing down your throat until you're able to press your teeth down on that button at the end. The feeding tube will squirt your sustenance into you. Hold down the button there until the pump turns all the way off and you hear the ping. Only then may you stop deep throating it. Failure to accept the feeder will result in punishment.”
#143 stared at the huge dildo as if staring down the barrel of a gun. It was so long and thick and he was so small. How would that ever fit!?