The slave processing center was the first place every new slave went to be adapted to the needs of their new owner. It was where boys learned all the classes of slavery carried out in the world, because there were slaves: giant, muscular workers who looked more like gorillas than men; technical workers whose talent was that they could program faster than they could speak; or sex slaves for rich women. But all slaves started as males; for the unfortunate females, they were sent to brothels or reproduction centers.

I was in a dark, cold passenger compartment of a small transport with 10 or 11 other boys. I had been taken from my family's farm two days ago, as payment for my parents' debts. The farm had fallen on hard times. However, I had hopes of ending up as a technical worker. After all, I was elegant. I had good grades in school. I even had experience with nanobots, piloting, and remote robotic controls. Technical work was the best life for slaves. I would probably end up on a solitary planet in a mining exploitation somewhere, with all my needs covered. It wasn't freedom, but it was certainly better than ending up like most of the others on the transport. As I looked around, I could see that the others were all much bigger and more resilient than me, all except one. He was just a tiny boy with soft features, almost looking like a girl. He would surely end up as a pleasure slave, probably a toy for some old rich bastard.

Once we arrived at the center, we were gathered in a line. We were put on transport carts, boxes up to the waist, with our arms free, our feet apart, and our hands tied and connected to the back of the frame. Then each of us was loaded onto the transport line. Our clothes were cut off, and a tiny electric implant was inserted between two ribs at the height of our chests, for security. Each slave had one to immobilize them. It could paralyze you almost immediately or even kill you. Then we entered the classification room. We were separated into three categories by size. The future sex toy and I were the only two from our transport placed in the smallest category of boys. We were almost the same age, I calculated. He must have been barely 15 years old. He looked almost the same. I felt sorry for him, but I knew it was better that he ended up as a feminized slave than me. After all, we weren't men yet. On my planet, until the age of 16, boys lose their virginity and gain the rights of adult men.

The two of us were put in a line with boys of similar size, mostly small and slender. Then everything happened very quickly. They took him and another boy out of the line, and then they announced that there were no openings for technical or qualified workers today, but they needed a volunteer for a non-hazardous job, and the rest would go to a field in Epsilon3.09 - a forced labor camp. I made a quick decision and volunteered. I imagined that at least I would be safe. A moment later, my cart was mixed in along an...