New World Order: The Test, 3 of 3

“Okay,” the Director said, “be ready to leave first thing in the morning.

The New World Order that evolved after the capture of the country by the Empire required that the colony limit its’ population to a level that could be sustained by what food was left over after the mandatory quota exported to the Empire, and also that it supply the Empire with soldiers. The Empress knew that soldiers were also the best breeding stock for the future population of the colony, so she decreed that only soldiers would be allowed to breed and ordered the castration of all other males. This led to a system where all male children were raised as wards of the state and spent their time between the onset of puberty and adulthood in detention centers. The Empress also realized that there would soon be too many soldiers, so she initiated a test to weed out half of them at adulthood. Wilson, with his beard now as long as the width of his thumb was deemed an adult and either had to take his test or forfeit his nuts, which would also happen if he failed his test.

The Director, concerned about Wilson, had tried to convince him to forfeit the test and submit to castration, as that would make him eligible for higher education instead of the lifetime of toil in the mines that would be Wilson’s fate if he failed the test.

The test was between two boys, or more correctly, youths of the same weight from different detention centers and was comprised of three parts: The first was a Chess match, the second changed frequently and would only be revealed to the contestants at the time of the test, and the third was a no holds barred fight or wrestling match. The loser of two out of three of these contests was immediately castrated and sent to the mines or factories, and the winner was eligible for induction into the Army of the Empire.

Wilson was as good a Chess player as anyone, but he was a physical wreck. He was just under six feet tall and weighed over two hundred pounds, and a lot of it was fat. He was still an adolescent, with the only hair on his face concentrated on his chin.

He didn’t eat any more than the other boys, and for a while the Director thought that he might be a cum guzzler feeding off of other boys sperm at night, but he finally realized that the boy just had a slow metabolism and that he was predestined towards being fat.

“OB987945 reporting for testing, sir.” Wilson announced after entering the testing center. Like all of the other boys there, he was wearing an almost new sweatshirt and sweatpants with the logo of his internment center stenciled on them. There were about twenty boys milling around waiting to meet their opponents, so he took a seat along one wall and surveyed the crowd, wondering whom he would be up against.

His number was announced after about a half hour and he was ushered into the first testing room for the Chess match. He sat at the only vacant table, and soon another boy joined him. Wilson involuntarily shuddered when he saw him. His opponent was at least six feet tall, very muscular, and had an extremely bushy, although short, beard. He looked a lot older than he should be, but he had met the qualifications and Wilson had no choice but to face him.

Chess is one of the most cerebral pastimes known to mankind and it is an ideal test of intelligence. The analytical skills needed to play the game well are also desirable in a soldier so the Empire requires all applicants to learn the game, and it has always been one of the three tests. Wilson had nothing to fear from this guy, as he hardly knew how to move the pieces and had no concept of the strategy or long-range planning need to win, and Wilson easily trounced him in all three matches. ‘I’ve got it made!’ He thought. ‘I’ll just put this guy away on the second test and I won’t even have to fight him.’

The boys in the center had spent many hours speculating on what the second, unknown, test included. Some thought that since warriors were also future breeders it would be something sexual in nature, like the size of their genitals or their ability to produce sperm. Others, like Wilson, who were not very well endowed, hoped that it would be something more mental. The fact was, that no body knew what the second test included, as it constantly changed and wasn’t announced prior to the testing.

Wilson and the other boy followed the proctor down a long corridor, through several locked doors, and finally came to what would best be described as a twentieth century video game arcade. Wilson and the other boy were both awestruck: They had heard of these things, but thought they had all been outlawed and destroyed years ago.

“This test, gentlemen, is designed to test your hand-eye coordination, a quality that is essential for soldiers to have, as well as your ability to think and react quickly. It will be for one game only, high score wins.” The proctor informed them, before energizing one of the machines designed for two players and handing the contestants the controllers.

Wilson’s coordination was pretty good, but he had a hard time figuring out what he was supposed to be doing, and he gave up several thousand points before getting the hang of the game. He had regained the lead, and there were only a few more seconds of play left when disaster struck; one of the ancient transistors had reacted to the heat and was now causing Wilson’s controller to malfunction. He tried several times to loose a volley of shots that would have let him win the game, and every time he got no reaction from the firing button, and he lost the game.

“Sir!” He implored the proctor. “My controller failed!”

The proctor started the game up again and tested the controllers. The few minutes of cool down had temporarily cured the problem and the controller now functioned flawlessly, so the win was upheld and they moved to the arena for the tie breaking fight.

Only the proctor witnessed the first two tests, but the directors of both centers, a medical technician, and the enlistment officer from the Army all joined him for the fight and took their places outside the glass walls of the arena. The boys removed and carefully folded their clothes, which they would never see again. The victor would be issued an Army uniform, and the loser, after healing from his impending surgery, would be given clothing suitable for use in the mines or factories.

Wilson and his Director were both shocked at the sight of the opponent. He seemed to be solid muscle compared to the flabby Wilson, and had extremely long arms. He could stand back and pound the chubby boy to pieces without ever taking a blow himself. He was also exceptionally well hung, with huge balls and a soft cock longer than Wilson had ever seen, and if that wasn’t enough he slowly got an erection, which made him look twice the man Wilson was.

“All is fair, gentlemen, except for attacks on the eyes.” The proctor informed them over the intercom. “If you are knocked down you must get up within a count of five or you will be declared the loser. If there is no winner after thirty minutes both of you will be declared losers. You may start now. Good luck to each of you.”

The boys faced off in opposite corners, and slowly approached the center of the ring. The first two tests had been conducted in silence, with the only conversation between the contestants being Wilson’s three announcements of ‘checkmate’, but talk was permitted during the fight.

“Hey, fat boy.” Wilson’s opponent taunted, flexing a powerful hand “They ain’t even gonna have to nut you afterwards, cause I’m a gonna crush them useless little peas of yours my own self. I ain’t jizzed in two weeks, and after I’m finished I’m a gonna run old John Henry up your buttery little ass and shoot so hard you’ll taste it in your mouth.”

A flicker of light caught Wilson’s attention, and he quickly turned his head to see what it was, and noticed that it was a reflection from the Director’s gold class ring.

“Ain’t a gonna work, fat boy, try’en to trick me like that.” The other boy said, sensing a ruse.

The ring glimmered again, and when Wilson turned to look the other boy lashed out with a tentative kick towards his balls. Wilson saw it coming and dropped his hands to protect himself and grabbed the other boy’s foot. Caught off balance, the other boy twisted around and stumbled, and in the fraction of a second he was vulnerable Wilson instinctively slammed his own foot up between his opponent’s legs, catching him squarely in his massive scrotum and causing him to go down hard, clutching his balls.

“One.” The proctor announced as Wilson stomped his opponent on the back of the head, driving his face into the mat and breaking his nose. “Two…Three….Four….Five! We have a winner!” The least qualified person to ever take the test had just won the shortest match in the history of the tests!

The Director was ecstatic, as he had just won fifty Dirkuras from his counterpart, and he hurried to join the others in the arena to congratulate the winner of the test. The medical technician wheeled in a cylinder of anesthetic gas, fitted a mask over the nose and mouth of the suffering loser, and opened the valve. The youth finally relaxed the grip on his balls and obediently rolled onto his back and spread his legs, euphorically unaware of what was about to happen.

“Execute due process unto the loser.” The proctor stated officially to the medical technician. The former ‘John Henry’, now an insignificant ‘Wee Willie’, was taped to the youth’s abdomen to keep it out of the way. His scrotum was shaved, disinfectant and a tourniquet applied, and finally a small slice was made and his massive testicles exteriorized. They were quickly tied off and severed and a drain tube was installed before the incision was sutured. A special jock strap with a hole below the band for the penis and absorbent padding in the pouch was put on him, where it would stay for ten days until the stitches were removed. Three weeks later he would be hard at work in the mines.

“You may now exercise the victor’s privilege.” The proctor told Wilson, noting that the boy had gotten a hard on watching the castration.

Wilson looked at the hairy ass of the youth who had just lost his nuts and was beginning to regain consciousness, and said, “No. I would rather use my hand or the milking machine.”

“Well, you can do either one later, I guess.” The flustered proctor said. He had never seen a victor refuse a piece of ass from a new eunuch.

This should have been the end of the story, with Wilson joining the Army, getting married, and living happily ever after, but it was not to be.

“Welcome, soldier, into the Army Of the Empire.” The enlistment officer extended his hand to the boy.

Wilson, instead of accepting the handshake, simply said. “Fuck the Empress. I won’t serve in her Army.”

It was now the recruiting officer’s turn to be flustered, as he had never had this kind of thing happen. Had Wilson’s words been uttered in the homeland or in a secluded area he would have probably been beaten to death, but the New World Order held freedom of speech to be an absolute right, and he was protected by the Empress’s own laws.

“Do you refuse service in the Army of the Empire?” The recruiting officer asked.

“Yes.” Wilson answered tersely.

“Execute due process unto the refuser.” The proctor stated. He had to check his notebook to see what the proper procedure was, as he had never encountered this situation.

This also could have been the end of the story, with the nutless Wilson spending the rest of his days as an Army field whore or toiling in the dankest, foulest mine in the colony, but that also was not to be.

It started as the Miner’s Revolt, and quickly spread throughout the colony.

Many lives, and many balls on both sides of the ocean were sacrificed before the colony, led by Wilson, won her independence from the Empire, and that is why today, even while Wilson still lives, his image appears on the face of every coin and piece of currency in the Republic, and his battle cry, ‘Fuck the Empress’, is engraved on the back. That is also why every baby boy born for many years had ‘Wilson’ for a middle name, and explains why men refer to their gonads as being their ‘Willies’.