The New Terrans

Chapter 2

A Visit to Civilisation

The domes of Circe loomed ahead of me and I contacted the airship controller. From there it was easy, the automated system guided my ship onto the field, then to the covered isolation berth and parked it with absolute precision. As the servicing units moved into position and began to connect the web of cables and pipes needed for the servicing of my ship after four months wandering my allotted service area, I descended the ramp and walked to the dressing station to be fitted with my quarantine suit and the regulation chastity device. 

As always a droid waited as I disembarked to fit the required chastity belt onto my genitals. It was an old model, showing signs of regular repair in the joints of its rubber ‘body’. I submitted to this regular ritual, grateful at least that the droid had been fine tuned to be careful. When it was secure, I turned and presented my butt for the required ‘injection’ of a dose of gel that helps control my libido. The droid inserted its dildo penis and dosed me. For a couple of years now I’d noticed something about it felt different to the normal droid fuck and impregnation, but I put it down to wearing the chastity belt and the tension I always felt about these visits and my enforced chastity. 

The chastity device encases my penis and my balls separately, so they are displayed encased in the metal prison. The metal tube fits tightly over my penis, preventing any flexing, and holding it firmly in a downward curve. My scrotum is confined in a metal ‘cage’ over which the penis tube curves, and this is all held in place by a metal waist band fitted and locked on. The construction and the tailored fit make it impossible to remove without the electronic key code and keys. The Quarantine suit followed, the same dayglow orange as my ‘normal’ catsuit, but now with a full face hood and mouth mask with the chastity device displayed through a reinforced opening at the crotch. 

This, they say, is to show that our ‘dangerous’ sexual organs are fully restrained and controlled. In fact, it is to reduce the impact of the pheromones we release when we meet any other male. These cause any male within about two meters to get an erection and to become very attracted to us. The special mouth mask is supposed to prevent us mutants from giving anyone ‘head’. In fact, it’s possible to give another mutant ‘head’ while wearing it — because we’re flexible. You can eat wearing the mask, but it’s tricky. The whole outfit is designed and intended to humiliate us and ensure we are treated like some sort of dangerous criminal. The droid ‘dressing’ me was typically, not very communicative — it’s function being purely to ensure all Mutants are secured as prescribed and this one did the job efficiently. Someone had evidently adjusted its sensors as it was not as mechanical as the droids on some of my earlier visits.

Once dressed I moved to the Controller's office and presented my reports and logbooks each on their individual memory chips.

“Welcome back, Fifty.” Smiling, my Controller asked, “Had any difficulties?”

“No, sir.” I grinned. “Just the usual ‘inspections’ from the Guardians. Some of them give me quite a workout …” The Controller was always friendly, and I knew he was an engineer and a wizard with micro-electronics — something that didn’t quite fit with his role as a Station Controller.

His rather attractive son entered as I said this and went on to discuss my report and observations of the environment I’d covered. The young man busied himself with some repair task on what looked like a droid neural node, though I caught the quick look at my imprisoned genitals. Like everyone in Circe, he wore tight leggings and top, though his had a loose ‘skirt’ from the waist that hung over his butt, and to my disappointment, his 'package'. 

I knew the young man serviced all the autonomous units on the station and, of course, the Companion Droids assigned to us Mutants. He’d done a lot of work on the electronics on my ship after a small accident caused a problem and serviced the Droid’s Charging Station. He was always supervised when aboard, and, of course, I was forbidden to be present. The youngster was something of a genius when it came to anything needing fine control and sensors. He was always busy when I was in ‘port’, and an absolute genius with any AI systems that needed repair. His parent thought the world of him, and what little contact I had told me this kid was far cleverer than his apparent status and current position demanded.

The Controller laughed, and his son glanced at me quickly, his cheeks slightly pink. It was common knowledge that the Guardians made good use of any Mutant that crossed their paths, or that they encountered at any of the stations we maintained. Not that we minded. Human company and, of course, sex, was always a bonus. Compo was good, sometimes pleasantly companionable even, but he wasn’t human, and he couldn’t initiate any sexual activity, though he was pretty damn good at sex. ‘He’ was little more than a complicated sex toy. Having to tell your partner exactly what you want him to do to, and with, you rather takes some of the eroticism out of it. The encounters with the odd Guardian — strictly forbidden and, for the mutant, punishable according to the law — were a welcome, if dangerous, treat.

“Good, your ship will get a full going over.” Checking the screen he nodded. “Yes, the lift gas will be fully replaced and the standby tanks refilled. Power plant will get the full works, and we’ll restock your food supplies. You’re to get a full medical as well.” His grin was back. “It’s a not the usual doctor. She's one of the MP ones. She checks all the people her mob round up.” Hesitating, he added, “She insists on an in person medical.”

“Oh well,” I shrugged. “Could be worse. I could be required to attend the Institute …”

“Don’t make jokes like that! The bloody Mutant Police … and fucking vigilante ‘mutant hunters’ …" He stopped, fighting to suppress his outburst. "Damn, you obviously don’t hear everything the bloody Command Council is doing … As if we haven’t got enough problems, they’re arguing about who should be the Admiral …” The outburst surprised me. Stopping, he adding with a glance at his son now studiously focussed on his task, “I didn’t say that.”

“I didn’t hear a thing.” So that was why everyone was tense. Pausing, I asked, “My companion droid wants a full service and he says he’s due an upgrade. Can it be done?”

“Sure. Jorge’ll give the droid unit a thorough overhaul and do the upgrade. Have you used him lately?”

“Yes.” Nodding I said, grinning at the reaction from his son. Jorge’s ears were now crimson. “On the way in. He’ll be full of my … Five days wearing this …” I gestured. “It gets very uncomfortable. Makes even Compo feel like a real lover …”

“Point taken!” The Controller waved his hands and laughed. “Okay, we’ll give him a full flush and recharge his lube tanks and the desensitiser unit.” Handing me a chip, he smiled. “Take this to the Commissariat, they’ll assign your suite and issue your shopping tokens. Enjoy your stay.”

“Like this? Enjoyment isn’t on the menu …” I quipped, watching the young man now pretending to be engrossed in his work. “I hope that medical involves a bit of milking! I’m going to need it.” My Controller was a nice guy — good looking too. He wasn’t like some Mutant Controllers, a rigid ‘by the Rules’ man, and he was always considerate when it came to dealing with the six of us mutants under his Control. I was the youngest, and after five years, knew what I could get away with when talking to him. His wife ran the Commissariat and, like him, was always firm but considerate. 

“Yeah, true.” He flushed, and laughed. “Oh, just to warn you, there’s a lot of anti-mutant stuff going round, and a Special undercover MP unit trying to, they say, expose ‘undetected’ mutants.”

“Undetected mutants?” Grinning, I teased. “Damn, how do they think any mutants get away with it? Bald as a billiard ball everywhere, a cock that’s always solid … You can’t miss us!” I laughed, but I noticed the worried glance the youngster threw my way. “I never had a chance …”

“Er, so everyone thinks, but there are a few …” He stopped suddenly, frowning, his son now really concentrating on his work, his ears red. “Just mind how you go, you really don’t want to get these guys after you. Listen, I’ve already said way too much. See the commissariat for your stores. The Medical is scheduled for six this evening in the isolation suite. Don’t be late.”

“Don’t worry.” Shrugging, I said, “I didn’t hear what you didn’t say. Us Mutants are deaf, stupid, and to be kept away from everyone …”

 Circe is, like all human settlements on New Terra, surrounded by a wall crowned by a shallow transparent dome. As I said, New Terra has some pretty nasty predators, and this helps keep them out of the settlements. Humans don’t really fit the biosphere either, so for any non-mutant, some environmental control is necessary. Us mutants? We fit anywhere …

The Commissariat building was a short walk through the main business and shopping centre of the town. I thought about the Controller’s son, Jorge. Slim, within a few years of my own age, very short blonde hair, with a nice tight butt and a fairly bulky ‘package’ in the crotch of his rubber working pants. I’d been a bit naughty teasing the Controller and enjoying his son’s responses, but hell, when you’re a mutant, an outcast from the community and your sexuality and mutation on full display … I was used to the stares now, and just ignored them. This, after all, was what ‘they’ imposed on me, not my choice. Besides it gave me a buzz seeing their expressions as I passed, careful to avoid any physical contact with anyone.

When you live alone, work alone and spend most of your time isolated in what is essentially a hostile environment, you hone your senses. You notice little details. I began to notice that some of those I passed glanced sideways at people apparently studying goods, or talking to a companion who seemed to be watching the young men I passed. The dots connected. These must be the Mutant hunters.

There’s an advantage to wearing a quarantine suit — possibly the only one — the full face hood has lenses covering my eyes. I was able to stop and apparently admire something as a cover for taking a closer look at these ‘hunters’. It also gave me a chance to check on whether or not I was being followed. I couldn’t see anyone, but then, dressed as I am, why bother? I stood out like a supernova. Reaching the Commissariat, I was relieved to see that there were a couple of other mutants, seated apart as required, there as I presented my chip.

“Back for your regular restock and ship overhaul, Fifty?” The Commissariat clerk behind the counter handed over a roll of purchasing tokens. “If you need more, you’ve a good surplus balance on your account.” She smiled as I collected the clip with it’s roll of metal tokens, then placed the chip card with my meal vouchers in front of me. With her eyes, she indicated an ordinary looking couple sat under the window. “Head into the cafeteria. A table has been set up for you — middle of the room. You can’t miss it.” Again she indicated the couple. “Mind how you go.” 

“Er, yes. Middle table?” I grinned behind my anti-fellatio mask. “My usual then.”

Turning to go, I heard very softly, “Watch that pair. Real bastards, especially the woman.”

Thus warned, I was very careful to avoid looking at them directly, and made my way to the table she’d indicated. It wasn’t where I normally took my meals. My usual table was in a corner at a window which allowed me to see and be seen. Now I was at the focal point of the room, and I didn’t need to be a genius to work out that this was so I could not be approached, or talk to anyone without the other person being seen. 

What the hell was going on here? Circe was normally fairly relaxed, though, of course, I had to stick to the rules. Now it almost stank of fear and suspicion. Maybe I should try accessing a few more ‘information’ channels and see if I could work it out. These were always censored, and really should be classed as entertainment for all the ‘news’ you got from them. Asking questions would simply attract the wrong kind of attention and maybe get me a spell in the Institute of Order. Not something I wanted at all …

The android waiter brought my meal, and I enjoyed it, home cooked, and way better than the prepared food I carried aboard the ‘Mutant Wanderer’ as I’d unofficially named my airship. That was good, nourishing and what my body needed, but something like this, fresh prepared and served, was way better. And somebody had gone to the trouble of cutting the meat and the vegetable portions exactly to size so I could easily get them past the anti-fellatio mask without dropping half of it, or smearing it over the mesh.

I made my way back to the Controller’s building stopping to buy a few small items, just for the hell of it and to see if I could spot any of the ‘special’ mutant hunters. I got back to the Control Building in a very thoughtful mood. I was early for the medical.